Jonas Direct Quotes

I talk very often in my films that Paradise is not yet lost, there are little bits of Paradise preserved. I am very interested to keep and protect what has really come to us from the past, and to protect what is essential to human beings. I have one song on that subject, and that song you know I was singing three weeks ago with the Big Band group. I was singing, "We are not going to betray you/those who were before us/I am with you here and now/we are not going to betray you/you who did everything to make sure that humanity would go to some other more subtle direction..." So, in that sense I am very conservative. I want to conserve the best that has been done before us by others before us, in that sense.

They shift the blame rather than taking the responsibility for their wrongs. Those under witchcraft’s control think they never do anything wrong. When caught they say there is nothing for which to repent. They tell you directly, “I haven’t done anything wrong” or “I did what I thought was right. I don’t have anything to feel sorry about.” They never manifest any true repentance or humility.

You don’t turn a river by abruptly trying to get it to change direction. You don’t have that much power. No matter how strong you are. The river will just overwhelm you and obstinately carry on pretty much as before. You can’t make it change direction overnight. No one can. On the contrary, you have to start by flowing with it. You have to capture its own force and then slowly but surely lead it in the desired direction. The river won’t notice it’s being led if the curve is gentle enough. On the contrary, it will think it’s flowing just the same as usual, seeing as nothing seems to have changed.

You don't turn a river by abruptly trying to get it to change direction. You don't have that much power. No matter how strong you are. The river will just overwhelm you and obstinately carry on pretty much as before. You can't make it change direction overnight. No one can. On the contrary, you have to start by flowing with it

Like the prophet Jonas, whom God ordered to go to Nineveh, I found myself with an almost uncontrollable desire to go in the opposite direction. God pointed one way and all my "ideals" pointed in the other. It was when Jonas was traveling as fast as he could away from Nineveh, toward Tharsis, that he was thrown overboard, and swallowed by a whale who took him where God wanted him to go...But I feel that my own life is especially sealed with this great sign, which baptism and monastic profession and priestly ordination have burned into the roots of my being, because like Jonas himself I find myself traveling toward my destiny in the belly of a paradox.

At one point we would have called these affairs consensual, for they were, and were conducted with my vague understanding that they were happening. Now, however, young women have apparently lost all agency in romantic entanglements. Now my husband was abusing his power, never mind that power is the reason they desired him in the first place. Whatever the current state of my marriage may be, I still can't think about it all without my blood boiling. My anger is not so much directed toward the accusations as it is toward the lack of self-regard these women have - the lack of their own confidence. I wish they could see themselves not as little leaves swirled around by the wind of a world that does not belong to them, but as powerful, sexual women interested in engaging in a little bit of danger, a little bit of taboo, a little bit of fun. With the highly objectionable move toward a populist insistence of morality in art, I find this post hoc prudery offensive, as a fellow female.

He lifted one bottle into the light. " 'GREEN DUSK FOR DREAMING BRAND PUREE NORTHERN AIR,' " he read. " 'Derived from the atmosphere of the white Arctic in the spring of 1900, and mixed with the wind from the upper Hudson Valley in the month of April, 1910, and containing particles of dust seen shining in the sunset of one day in the meadows around Grinnell, Iowa, when a cool air rose to be captured from a lake and a little creek and a natural spring.' "Now the small print," he said. He squinted. " 'Also containing molecules of vapor from menthol, lime, papaya, and watermelon and all other water-smelling, cool-savored fruits and trees like camphor and herbs like wintergreen and the breath of a rising wind from the Des Plaines River itself. Guaranteed most refreshing and cool. To be taken on summer nights when the heat passes ninety.' " He picked up the other bottle. "This one the same, save I've collected a wind from the Aran Isles and one from off Dublin Bay with salt on it and a strip of flannel fog from the coast of Iceland." He put the two bottles on the bed. "One last direction." He stood by the cot and leaned over and spoke quietly. "When you're drinking these, remember: It was bottled by a friend. The S.J. Jonas Bottling Company, Green Town, Illinois- August, 1928. A vintage year, boy... a vintage year.

fucking ungrateful, misogynistic, prejudiced, racist, undeserving bastard.” Travers’s face sort of froze, and then it was like he looked lost—that was the only word I had for it. That one expression was enough; something about the fight in the mountains, being wounded, being saved by Truth, had affected him deeply, and not in a good way. He just turned without another word and walked out. “What the hell was that about?” Jonas asked, to no one in particular. Since the question hadn’t been directed at anyone in particular, no one answered it. In fact, the silence was a little thick. It was Deputy Al from the back of the room. “Sorry I’m late, but damn, Anita, you cuss real pretty.

They seem too technical, and I need not literature but the living God. Sitivit anima mea. The strong living God. I burn with the desire for His peace, His stability, His silence, the power and wisdom of His direct action, liberation from my own heaviness. I carry myself around like a ton weight.

The dog can either enjoy the ride and run smoothly alongside the cart, or he can stubbornly resist the direction of the cart while being dragged behind anyway. If we resist what happens, then we get dragged behind just like that dog. That’s called suffering.

Ontology as the ground of ethics was the original tenet of philosophy. Their divorce, which is the divorce of the "objective" and "subjective" realms, is the modern destiny. Their reunion can be effected, if at all, only from the "objective" end, that is to say, through a revision of the idea of nature. And it is becoming rather than abiding nature which would hold out any such promise. From the immanent direction of its total evolution there may be elicited a destination of man by whose terms the person, in the act of fulfilling himself, would at the same time realize a concern of universal substance. Hence would result a principle of ethics which is ultimately grounded neither in the autonomy of the self nor in the needs of the community, but in an objective assignment by the nature of things.

It’s too late to save Micah’s dad, but we were able to save you, you fucking ungrateful, misogynistic, prejudiced, racist, undeserving bastard.’ Travers’s face sort of froze, and then it was like he looked lost. He just turned without another word and walked out. ‘What the hell was that about?’ Jonas asked, to no one in particular. Since the question hadn’t been directed at anyone in particular, no one answered it. In fact, the silence was a little thick. It was Deputy Al from the back of the room. ‘Sorry I’m late, but damn, Anita, you cuss real pretty.’ It made people laugh, at least a little.

I've seen people spend a lot of time wishing things are not the way they are. This kind of activity is a waste of mental and emotional energy that needs to be directed toward how God intended you to live today.

In 1943, while Jonas Salk was working on an influenza vaccine, there were ten thousand cases of polio in the United States; in 1948, when Salk was typing polio viruses, there were twenty-seven thousand cases of polio; in 1952, when Salk was first testing his ideas on how to make a polio vaccine, there were fifty-nine thousand cases of polio. Almost every American was directly or indirectly affected by this disease.

IT WAS ALMOST December, and Jonas was beginning to be frightened. No. Wrong word, Jonas thought. Frightened meant that deep, sickening feeling of something terrible about to happen. Frightened was the way he had felt a year ago when an unidentified aircraft had overflown the community twice. He had seen it both times. Squinting toward the sky, he had seen the sleek jet, almost a blur at its high speed, go past, and a second later heard the blast of sound that followed. Then one more time, a moment later, from the opposite direction, the same plane. At first, he had been only fascinated. He had never seen aircraft so close, for it was against the rules for Pilots to fly over the community. Occasionally, when supplies were delivered by cargo planes to the landing field across the river, the children rode their bicycles to the riverbank and watched, intrigued, the unloading and then the takeoff directed to the west, always away from the community. But the aircraft a year ago had been different. It was not a squat, fat-bellied cargo plane but a needle-nosed single-pilot jet. Jonas, looking around anxiously, had seen others—adults as well as children—stop what they were doing and wait, confused, for an explanation of the frightening event. Then all of the citizens had been ordered to go into the nearest building and stay there. IMMEDIATELY, the rasping voice through the speakers had said. LEAVE YOUR BICYCLES WHERE THEY ARE. Instantly, obediently, Jonas had dropped his bike on its side on the path behind his family’s dwelling. He had run indoors and stayed there, alone. His parents were both at work, and his little sister, Lily, was at the Childcare Center where she spent her after-school hours. Looking through the front window, he had seen no people: none of the busy afternoon crew of Street Cleaners, Landscape Workers, and Food Delivery people who usually populated the community at that time of day. He saw only the abandoned bikes here and there on their sides; an upturned wheel on one was still revolving slowly. He had been frightened then. The sense of his own community silent, waiting, had made his stomach churn. He had trembled. But it had been nothing. Within minutes the speakers had crackled again, and the voice, reassuring now and less urgent, had explained that a Pilot-in-Training had misread his navigational instructions and made a wrong turn. Desperately the Pilot had been trying to make his way back before his error was noticed. NEEDLESS TO SAY, HE WILL BE RELEASED, the voice had said, followed by silence. There was an ironic tone to that final message, as if the Speaker found it amusing; and Jonas had smiled a little, though he knew what a grim statement it had been. For a contributing citizen to be released from the community was a final decision, a terrible punishment, an overwhelming statement of failure.

I love you,” he said, as direct and blunt and sweet as always. My heart did a little flip. “Lachlan brought dinner. Ramsey got wine. I got the flowers.” “Thanks for that,” Lachlan said from downstairs and I glanced past Jonas to Lachlan stood at the bottom of the steps. “I also got dessert, so that the chocolate orgasm you have later will be one hundred percent courtesy of me.” I had to bite back a smile. “And if we’re taking score,” Lachlan continued. “I’m also in love with you. I just—prefer to do acts of service like beating the shit out of assholes for you.

I love you,” he said, as direct and blunt and sweet as always. My heart did a little flip. “Lachlan brought dinner. Ramsey got wine. I got the flowers.” “Thanks for that,” Lachlan said from downstairs and I glanced past Jonas to Lachlan stood at the bottom of the steps. “I also got dessert, so that the chocolate orgasm you have later will be one hundred percent courtesy of me.

Not a direct quote, but referenced in the author's note at the end - Sister Elizabeth Kenny, was instrumental in developing a new method of treating polio. Barbara Johnson, a laboratory technician who was paralyzed with polio after a workplace accident but went on the work with Sabin as his statistician. Isabel Morgan vaccine successfully induced immunity in monkeys and was the basis of Jonas Salk's entry into the vaccine race. We'd be talking about the Morgan vaccine if she hadn't refused to test the vaccine on children. Elsie Ward perfected the technique for growing the virus outside a living body. Her technique allowed Salk's lab to make enough of the virus to put in the vaccines for millions of children. Whistleblower Bernice Eddy reported that test monkeys who got the vaccine from Cutter laboratories were developing polio, thus alerting officials that Cutter would be releasing unsafe vaccines for use. -- Her concerns were ignored and caused 200 children to acquire Polio through the vaccine. Many of the children were paralyzed. Some died. Federal regulations of vaccines was tightened because of this - and her. Eleanor Abbott invented the game Candy Land to amuse patients after she herself was hospitalized for the disease.

The reserve clause implies two points: Do your very best to succeed . . . . . . and simultaneously know and accept that the outcome is beyond your direct control.

When spoken to directly she was called “whatsyourname,” and indirectly … there was essentially no reason to discuss her an individual.

It was possible that the country’s new leader was a bit more clever, because he gave up Nazism once he saw the direction it was heading, and started referring to his convictions as “Christian Nationalism” instead. So he had avoided internment when the Allies got a foothold in the war, and he was able to start a political career without a waiting period.

Ariel signed. "I will take these matters into consideration," Flounder translated, "and will either return here myself in three days or send a messenger in my place." "Understood," the seagull said with a bow. "Understood, My Queen," Flounder corrected politely. "My Queen? How does that work with the Law of the Worlds- that of the Dry World and the World Under the Sea?" Ariel found herself almost rolling her eyes and making that wide, sighing smile she used to with Flounder. But the little gull looked at her, at her, while she signed. Not at her hands, or Flounder as he had spoken. There was a friendly heart under Jona's direct and inappropriate questions. Ariel just shook her head and dove back under the water, tossing a sign over her shoulder as she went. "The Queen says you may call her Ariel," Flounder said. Also, under his breath: "You have no idea what an honor that is.

Our social duty is to feel a concern for all mankind, to work together, and to help each other. “For all that I do,” says Marcus, “should be directed to this single end, the common benefit and harmony.