Lamar Quotes

I remember you was conflicted Misusing your influence Sometimes I did the same Abusing my power, full of resentment Resentment that turned into a deep depression Found myself screaming in the hotel room I didn’t wanna self destruct The evils of Lucy was all around me So I went running for answers Until I came home But that didn’t stop survivor’s guilt Going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes I earned Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was But while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city, I was entering a new one A war that was based on apartheid and discrimination Made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what I learned The word was respect Just because you wore a different gang color than mine's Doesn’t mean I can’t respect you as a black man Forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets If I respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us But I don’t know, I’m no mortal man, maybe I’m just another nigga

Unlike your half-blood prince, this is a classic.” “Half-Blood Prince is a great book.” “Of course it is. What could be better than stories of clueless teenagers sent off to… Bale, what is that?” “What, this?” Lamar’s voice took on a sharp edge. “Is that a wand?” “It’s a stick.” “Are you pointing a wand at me?” “Who, me?” “Bale, if any Latin comes out of your mouth, it better be a litany of the saints, because I will end you.

Am I the only one who measures time using songs? “Oh it only took me 4 songs to get here! that’s not to long!

We need a new ethic of place, one that has room for salmon and skyscrapers, suburbs and wilderness, Mount Rainier and the Space Needle, one grounded in history.

If I told you that a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?

I would rather my heart be without words than my words be without heart.

It’s not the art, it’s the heart. What [God] reads during our worship is the inner attitude. Worship is spiritual; it’s organic; it’s relational.

When I worship, I would rather my heart be without words than my words be without heart.

When Lamar and I huddle up to do a conspiratorial cramming session, I don’t know if we sound like cryptic geniuses, or raving loons that make no sense.

It's that find some inspiration, it's that crack the installation, it's that quantum jump and that fist pump and that bomb detonation...

You ever met one of those guys who, in a totally calm and composed way, can scare the shit out of you? Like an MMA fighter, or the fat Kardashian sister who married Lamar Odom?

You haven’t prepared yourself for worship if you just practice musical art

Get God on the phone!

Am I radiating openness? Do you feel the warmth of the springtime sun when I'm near? If so, please understand that sensation is actually my fiery disdain.

Mencintaimu; serupa mengagumi kunang-kunang; yang mengantongi matahari di belakang ekornya. Hingga, Sepekat apapun sebuah malam, dia akan begitu mudah menemukanmu.

Kau; Sebuah kota yang hanya dapat kukunjungi di malam-malam seperti ini, Rambutmu lampu-lampu, dan wajahmu adalah lukisan yang akan memaksaku untuk selalu kembali.

What are we doing on the plane ride back home? I heard Lamar [Jackson] is leading us in high knees. Ravens flock, let's fly.

You don’t apologize for who you are. I’m an old lady now and perhaps that doesn’t mean much in the world we live in, but I exist and I shouldn’t have to be sorry for that. As a woman, you have to know that. Don’t ever apologize for who you are,

Bitch don't kill my vibe.

We’re sorry,” Lamar said quickly. “We’ll go. We don’t have any drugs.” “Says who? Says you?” The guard wore an odd expression, and his words were harsh and fast; he seemed not to be responding to what they were saying. He looked

Lamar, why do they go into a trance when I change into this?” I ask as I go phantom and change into the Egyptian Princess outfit before turning whole again. The guys…don’t go into a trance. Not even Ezekiel, and he missed it the first time. It makes me look like a liar. Weirdly, I take offense to feeling like a liar. It’s weird because I’m the DEVIL’S FUCKING DAUGHTER and THE APOCALYPSE, but being thought of as a liar irks me. My priorities are so messed up.

Se si escludono istanti prodigiosi e singoli che il destino ci può donare, l’amare il proprio lavoro (che purtroppo è privilegio di pochi) costituisce la miglior approssimazione concreta alla felicità sulla terra: ma questa è una verità che non molti conoscono.

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

Rinduku kuyup, setiap membaca namamu setelah hujan.

Selepas hujan, pelangi pasti ada, karena ini malam, dia berbaris di hatimu.

Semakin senyap sebuah malam, dia justru akan menceritakanmu dengan semakin lantang.

Jika merindukanmu adalah sebuah kesalahan, maka, aku adalah orang yang gemar melakukan kesalahan.

I'd told the truth. That shouldn't be wrong, but the truth could be a weapon depending on who used it.

You don't have to know someone your whole life to know them. Not really. Lonely is the same everywhere.

Sarah Aisling: I can’t defend against these charges because I can’t afford a litigator. But I can’t afford a litigator because I’ve been charged. Judge: You should have had insurance against contract suits. Sarah Aisling: I did. Judge: So what’s the problem? Sarah Aisling: They canceled my insurance when I filed the claim. Judge: So sue them! Sarah Aisling: I can’t, I don’t have a litigator. Judge: That’s very cute, Mrs. Aisling.

By connecting Oswald to several parts of the JFK–Almeida coup plan, those working for Marcello, Trafficante, and Rosselli could ensure that when Oswald surfaced as the main suspect, the CIA and other agencies would have to cover up much information to protect the coup plan—which is exactly what happened

Change isn't like a shutter click. It's never instant.

Solo l'amare, solo il conoscere conta, non l'aver amato, non l'aver conosciuto. Dà angoscia il vivere di un consumato amore. L'anima non cresce più.

Kendrick stopped writing to make others feel comfortable; instead, he chose to elevate his thinking and make people catch up to him.

You're judged by the companies you keep.

Cardplayers are fools leaving their hopes and dreams to paper kings and queens.

Jika perbincangan kita telah usai, maka hadirlah sebuah kekosongan, dialah janji yang dialamatkan pada sepi, janji yang pasti ditepati oleh ampas kopiku, sendiri.

Aku sering mengirimu puisi, bukan bunga. Karena bunga akan layu di depanmu. Malu.

Rinduku; di kota-kota suci, dari rahim bunda, Makkah, & Jerussalem. Terakhir di Cirebon, ; sebuah tempat di mana dengan mudah kumenemukanmu, lalu mencintaimu.

Kau tahu “rindu” itu apa? Menurutku; Semacam rasa pahit dalam kopi, dan kesamaran makna dalam puisi.

Apa yang aku inginkan dari pria? Apa yang aku harapkan dari suami? Bagaimana dengan cinta? Deri sudah melamarnya! Bukankah itu bukti cinta?

Once the beast's breath fogs your lens, it's too late to run!

You see what you want to see. The truth is that the glass is both half empty and half full. What you can control is how you choose to see it.

But when I saw the price of water I nearly choked. In the last hour it had gone up tenfold. Buying some more information, I learned that there had been an attack, this time at a water treatment facility in Brookhurst. A corporation from a competing Karitzu paid a mercenary firm to blow it up, and raw sewage was now spilling into the aquifer. My God! Did this happen before my shower? What about the toilet? Christ, I may have just blown six hundred caps on a single flush! Hell, for the next few hours I couldn’t even afford to wash my hands.

Wolves rarely attack humans, and they do not howl at the moon. (There is no record of a nonrabid wolf killing a human in North America since the arrival of Europeans.)” They are neither innate cowards nor wanton killers.

Mr. Raney named the porpoises - Sister Woman, and Renford, and Lamar, and St. Elmo - and could recognize them, and call each by its name, even at night, six feet long, some of them, with a million sharp teeth and a naughty grin. Often when he floated past in the boat and watched their playful wheeling, in and out among the cypress knees, he called out to them, "Lamar, we are all alone in the world!" or "Renford, cork is an export product of India!

All experienced murderers seek cover. By putting the Agency’s fingerprints on [Mafia] operations, the mob could anticipate that the CIA would [be forced to] cooperate in the cover-up of crucial information related to JFK's assassination

With the edge of my spoon I shave layers off a swirling cake-batter-flavored peak, cause a chocolate-chip avalanche, and imagine the poor people at the melted base of Mount Yogurt screaming in terror at the wrath of their god. She is displeased.

I got this cousin, Lamar,' he said. 'Total fool. And by fool I mean motherfucker wouldn't find water in a swimming pool. But, like all fools, he once spoke a sentence of true wisdom. We'd been talking about this brother, who had a certain . . . fondness for the kind of place you and I find ourselves in right now, and Lamar, in the midst of all his usual ignorant bullshit, said, "You got to be wary of a man who spends all his time watching titties bounce."' Floyd threw his head back and laughed. 'Shit still gets me.

Hey, Jason,” he said. “What do you think the guard would do if he saw us?” “Shoot us?” Jason whimpered, eyeing Lamar warily. “Worse,” Lamar said gravely. “Community service.” Jason wasn’t sure what it meant, but he held his eyes open wide as though it was something terrible.

Orpheus was the Mozart of the ancient world. He was more than that. Orpheus was the Cole Porter, the Shakespeare, the Lennon and McCartney, the Adele, Prince, Luciano Pavarotti, Lady Gaga and Kendrick Lamar of the ancient world, the acknowledged sweet-singing master of words and music.

When a scientist tells you that ‘the science is settled’ in regard to any subject,” Lamar said, “he’s ceased to be a scientist, and he’s become an evangelist for one cult or another. The entire history of science is that nothing in science is ever settled. New discoveries are continuously made, and they upend old certainties.

Fire so hot she can burn hell-spawn and roses from Eden. Her infamous chakrams that now never miss, no matter the lack of skill. And she’s not even at full power yet,” Lamar states in a hushed tone. “She planned on defeating Jahl. She redesigned herself, and somehow tied it all into a death, as though she genuinely planned it step by step.

He didn’t like losing to a girl, the Achilles’ heel of misogynists everywhere.

I usually eat cereal every morning.

Like a person, the corporation only did what was in its own interest, only without the burden of consequences or conscience.

Life's the picture. But all good photographers know you gotta have the right lens.

The most important person you will ever talk to is yourself

I didn't make you do it. The devil didn't either. It's all you, Panda.

Our backgrounds were different, but the traditions of death surpassed culture. Everyone mourned with food.

There’s beauty in completion. And always faith in the unknown.

What you do in the darkness comes out in the light.” From the darkness to the light.

Economics is always, like religion or politics, something we create together in response to the world we live in.

As several historians have pointed out, it would have made little sense for Fidel to do something that would risk having his country invaded in retaliation, just to make Lyndon Johnson President.

Conditions for statehood would be achieved when the settlers outnumbered the Indigenous population, which in the cases of both the Mexican cession area and the Louisiana Purchase territory required decimation or forced removal of Indigenous populations. In this US system, unique among colonial powers, land became the most important exchange commodity for the accumulation of capital and building of the national treasury. To understand the genocidal policy of the US government, the centrality of land sales in building the economic base of the US wealth and power must be seen. Apologists for US expansionism see the 1787 ordinance not as a reflection of colonialism, but rather as a means of “reconciling the problem of liberty with the problem of empire,” in historian Howard Lamar’s words.

Lamar studied the monitor. Bonnie’s head was up and turned to the side, his eyes appearing to watch the camera. “Well, go find your sister then,” he told Jason. “I don’t need her permission to be bored!” Impatiently, Jason climbed up and out of the control room. “Everyone is so sensitive,” Lamar muttered, suddenly realizing he was alone in the control room. He climbed out, but Jason was already gone.

Vulnerability--not hunger, not anger, and certainly not spite--is the key to predator-prey relationships. The skill and viciousness of the hunter matters less than the size, speed, strength, health, and ferocity of the hunted. Vulnerability explains why large predators tend to kill the old, young, and sick members of prey populations. Predators eat the mild and weak because those are the animals they can catch and kill.

I knew how easy it was to make people believe a lie, but I didn't expect the same people, confronted with the lie, would choose it over the truth. . . . No amount of logic can shatter a faith consciously based on a lie.

What a good government does, what a republic does, is moderate competition; allow the tug of war, but never let one side walk away with the rope. They also establish rule of law, and a safety net below which people cannot fall. Everybody can vote, everybody can share power, no matter how rich or poor. Everybody has rights, and the republic is strong enough to enforce those rights. Police, health, mail, education, the things that everybody needs are guaranteed. Corporations can compete, but they are kept reasonably honest and not allowed to over leverage and risk people other than themselves. People will abuse the system, some corps will get away with crime, but the distribution of a minimum amount of power and resources to all people hedges the damage. And it forces the wealthy, not to be slaves to the poor, but to have a modicum of concern for them, because they can vote.

How is it that people look at the same city and see such very different places? The answer lies in history, or, more accurately, in how people have chosen to remember the past. The habit of regarding culture and nature as binary categories has shaped how we view cities and their dynamic environments. The result is a kind of intellectual myopia in which 'history is experienced as nostalgia and nature as regret--as a horizon fast disappearing behind us.

He was a nuanced mosaic of varied influences, pulling into one body the lush humility of southern rap stalwarts like OutKast and Goodie Mob, the lyrical dexterity of Nas and Eminem, and the straight-ahead tough talk of Pusha T and Killer Mike.

A 20 year old woman in Houston, Texas, was arrested at Lamar University, after posting a tweet. The message on Twitter was bragging about how she still had a warrant in Pearland, Texas, and how the "pigs" would absolutely never be able to catch her.   Since her full name (Mahogany Mason-Kelly, hardly a common name) and her school information was easily found on her Twitter account, she was quickly arrested. It was then found that she had originally given the police officers her sister's name during the arrest.

It's always been theoretically possible for a man to destroy himself. We always think it won't happen on our watch, that it will be some other generation that destroys the world. That, in the end, is what makes us blind to the possibility, which is the very thing that makes it possible.

In Paris (though he had just come four thousand miles from the river where it was born, though Bessie Smith herself had sung at a Negro dance ten miles from Briartree while they were packing for their trip abroad, and though Duff Conway, the greatest horn man of his time—for whose scratched and worn recordings Jeff was to pay as high as fifty and sixty dollars apiece—had been born and raised in Bristol, son of the cook in the Barcroft house on Lamar Street) Jeff discovered jazz. He fell among the cultists, the essayists on the ‘new’ American rhythms, including the one of whom Eddie Condon, when asked for an opinion, later said, “Would I go over there and tell him how to jump on a grape?

a tragic roster of activists and innocents had died for the crime of being black or supporting blacks in their state. There was Willie Edwards Jr., the truck driver forced off a bridge to his death by four Klansmen in Montgomery. There was William Lewis Moore, the man from Baltimore shot and killed in Attalla while trying to walk a letter denouncing segregation 385 miles to the governor of Mississippi. There were four young girls, Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson, and Cynthia Wesley, killed by the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham. There was thirteen-year-old Virgil Lamar Ware, shot to death on the handlebars of his brother’s bicycle in the same city. There was Jimmie Lee Jackson, beaten and shot by state troopers in Marion while he tried to protect his mother and grandfather during a protest. There was the Reverend James Reeb, the Unitarian minister beaten to death in Selma. There was Viola Gregg Liuzzo, shot by Klansmen while trying to ferry marchers between Selma and Montgomery. There was Willie Brewster, shot to death while walking home in Anniston. There was Jonathan Myrick Daniels, a seminarian registering black voters who was arrested for participating in a protest and then shot by a deputy sheriff in Hayneville. There was Samuel Leamon Younge Jr., murdered by a gas station owner after arguing about segregated restrooms.

Lamar Alexander, the senator from Tennessee and the most senior Republican on the committee, was asking his last questions when a witness interrupted him to point out that Congress was responsible for setting the right level for the minimum wage. Senator Alexander replied that if he could decide, there would be no minimum. No minimum wage at all. Not $15.00. Not $10.00. Not $7.25. Not $5.00. Not $1.00. The comment was delivered quite casually. It wasn’t a grand pronouncement shouted by a crazy, hair-on-fire ideologue. Instead, a longtime U.S. senator stated with calm confidence that if an employer could find someone desperate enough to take a job for fifty cents an hour, then that employer should have the right to pay that wage and not a penny more. He might as well have said that employers could eat cake and the workers could scramble for whatever crumbs fall off the table. For

When we blame those who brought about the brutal murder of Emmett Till, we have to count President Eisenhower, who did not consider the national honor at stake when white Southerners prevented African Americans from voting; who would not enforce the edicts of the highest court in the land, telling Chief Justice Earl Warren, 'All [opponents of desegregation] are concerned about is to see that their sweet little girls are not required to sit in schools alongside some big, overgrown Negroes.' We must count Attorney General Herbert Brownell Jr., who demurred that the federal government had no jurisdiction in the political assassinations of George Lee and Lamar Smith that summer, thus not only preventing African Americans from voting but also enabling Milam and Bryant to feel confident that they could murder a fourteen-year-old boy with impunity. Brownell, a creature of politics, likewise refused to intervene in the Till case. We must count the politicians who ran for office in Mississippi thumping the podium for segregation and whipping crowds into a frenzy about the terrifying prospects of school desegregation and black voting. This goes double for the Citizens' Councils, which deliberately created an environment in which they knew white terrorism was inevitable. We must count the jurors and the editors who provided cover for Milam, Bryant, and the rest. Above all, we have to count the millions of citizens of all colors and in all regions who knew about the rampant racial injustice in America and did nothing to end it. The black novelist Chester Himes wrote a letter to the New York Post the day he heard the news of Milam's and Bryant's acquittals: 'The real horror comes when your dead brain must face the fact that we as a nation don't want it to stop. If we wanted to, we would.

If you tell people you’re writing a book about the Beatles, at first they smile and ask, “Another one? What’s left to say?” So I mention “Baby’s in Black,” or “It’s All Too Much,” or Lil Wayne’s version of “Help” or the Kendrick Lamar battle rhyme where he says “blessings to Paul McCartney,” or Hollywood Bowl, or Rock ’n’ Roll Music, or the Beastie Boys’ “I’m Down”—but I rarely get that far, because they’re already jumping in with their favorite overlooked Beatle song, the artifact nobody else prizes properly, the nuances nobody else notices. Within thirty seconds they’re assigning me a new chapter I must write. And telling me a story to go with it. Every few days, I get into a Beatles argument I’ve never had before, while continuing other arguments that have been raging since my childhood. And though I’ve spent my whole life devouring every scrap of information about them, I’m constantly learning. I guarantee the day this book comes out, I will find out something new. Things like that used to pain me. But that’s what it means to love the Beatles—you never run out of surprises.

But it's not your fault. You can't control what other people do. No, but I was responsible for my own actions. At some point we had abandoned responsibility and began fostering corruption in others so that we might shield ourselves from persecution by virtue of a common guilt. We did this in the name of profit, and we justified our crimes with the rationalization that, somewhere down the line, better people would safeguard our victims from us. I wasn't a looter or a moocher. I wasn't a producer either. None of us were. We certainly weren't capitalists. We were pillagers. Decency exists. That alone must make it important; even the great Darwin himself would say that. But we tried to cut decency out of others so as to lower the bar for ourselves. We are relative creatures. The man who teaches his slaves to read is a saint in a world where slavery is legal, and a monster where it isn't. We aren't born knowing if we're good or bad. We decide by comparing ourselves to others - and by that yardstick it's no different to measure by our own successes than our neighbors failures, save that it's easier to corrupt the neighbor.

Nonetheless, as Seattle's leaders and residents would discover, this new urban environment was a palimpsest of exploitation, conflict, compromise, adaptation, and defeat. Physical forces and creatures beyond human control always pushed back. So, too, did the people who suffered from the changes. The new urban ecology was never the result of purely natural forces but the combination of human power magnified or thwarted by an unpredictable physical environment. The non-human environment that enfolded the city was not predetermined, nor was the poverty that the decades of shaping and reshaping Seattle had aggravated. In the end, the ecology of urban poverty was altogether a human creation.

Because salmon have both united and divided a people, they present us with an opportunity to think ethically about this place, Seattle. The challenge, though, is to move beyond the habit of trying to dominate nature to the more feasible goal of governing ourselves, and to tame our reflexive impulse to put ideas into neat categories. An evolving ethic of place, like any ethic, is neither a divine commandment nor doctrinaire mandate. It is a product of history and thus it is ever changing. It must be, in other worse, a deliberate and enduring dialogue between humans and their environments.

judge flipped open the file, lifted his pen, and announced, “Court rules in favor of the plaintiff.” My jaw dropped. How could he? I could feel my temper flushing a shade of pink up my neck. How could I have lost this? I had clawed through law school on the belief that my gut instincts were generally right. Growing up poor in small Mississippi towns, I had learned at an early age to anticipate other people’s reactions. And when my gut failed me, I had my fists. Too bad I couldn’t throw a punch at the county judge. Darla Lamar was at my elbow, tugging on my secondhand jacket. I gingerly pulled away, afraid the fabric would pop a seam. “What does he mean?” Darla asked in a frightened whisper. Keeping my voice low, I said, “Darla, we lost. The judge found in favor of your landlord.” Darla’s face contorted. “Where does that leave me? And my kids? You said we was going to win.” Oh, no, I had not said that. My trial practice prof had beat

DeVoto himself had clearly concluded, go with your gut and do what you know is right: do whatever you can to make the world a better place for those who come after you.

I could only imagine the carnage that would come with talking to thirteen-year-old Lucca about my period; there would be blood, sweat, and tears, most of which came from Lucca, who'd probably sob himself into a puddle of nervous sweat. I'd be the one bleeding, of course.

The Lamar Life stationary carried on its letterhead an oval portrait of Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus Lamar, for whom the Company had been named: a Mississippian who had been a member of Congress, Secretary of the Interior under Cleveland, and a U.S. Supreme Court Justice, a powerful orator who had pressed for the better reconciliation of North and South after the Civil War.

Ministry to the disability community is often an afterthought because for years we have been building our churches backward.

wealthy Georgian named Charles Augustus Lafayette Lamar, who bought the Wanderer, a luxury yacht, in New York and outfitted her for slaving. Around the time Meaher made his bet, Lamar was being lionized as a hero in newspapers across the nation as tales of the Africans he smuggled into the country spread. Relying on family money to make his start, Lamar was involved in horse racing, gold mining, road building, and the shipping of cotton. However, it appears he was not particularly good at any of those endeavors, and was repeatedly bailed out of financial disasters by his father, Gazaway. A family history going back three hundred years contains a small mention of Charles, describing him as “a dangerous man, and with all his apparent recklessness and lawlessness, a cautious man, too.” Perhaps not too cautious, as he was known to often resort to violence. While serving as an alderman on the Savannah City Council in 1853, he was arrested for “disorderly conduct and fighting in the streets.” In 1858, he shot out a friend’s eye while attempting to defend his uncle in a fight. Ultimately, he was the last person killed in the Civil War, in a small battle fought in Columbus, Georgia, seven days after the surrender at Appomattox.

Lamar, Sr. began coaching his son at a young age, throwing the football with him and helping him get faster. By the age of eight, Lamar could outrun many high school track athletes.

My mom always says sorry is like pulling a nail from the board: The hole’s still there no matter how much you want it not to be.

language and literacy education is a political act and that equitable teaching means educating youth about the working of anti-Blackness while shedding light on what Blackness is, its heritage, language, beauty as critical components in disrupting the school-to-prison nexus.

Hate didn't change a thing. There was only forward.

Admiral Nimitz never raised his voice and I never heard him curse during the many years I served with him,” wrote Lamar.

Hugh leaned on the corral’s fence. That was a problem. The only way to hold off Nez was to project a show of strength. The alliance had to appear unbreakable, otherwise Nez would expect them to fracture and attack anyway. Lamar was right. They had to overcome that burden. They had to appear completely united. “There is a tried-and-true method of making an alliance appear secure,” Lamar said carefully. Hugh glanced at him.

A union,” Lamar said, as if worried the word would cut his mouth. “What union?” “A civil union, Preceptor.” “What the hell are you on about?” Lamar took a deep breath. “Marriage!” Bale yelled out. Hugh stared at Lamar. “Marriage?” “Yes.” They had to be out of their minds. “Who would be getting married?” “You.” The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, and he said the first thing that popped into his head. “Who would marry me?

You’re handsome, a big, imposing figure of a man, and um…” Lamar scrounged for some words. “And they’re desperate.” “What the hell have you been smoking? I’m penniless, I’m exiled, I own nothing…” He left out broken. “And a recovering alcoholic.” Lamar nodded. “Yes, but again, they’re desperate. And we’re running out of food.” Hugh shut his eyes for a long moment. The world was sliding sideways, and he really needed to get a grip. “Who would I be marrying?” “The White Warlock.” Hugh’s eyes snapped open. “You want me to marry a man?” “No!” Lamar shook his head vigorously. “It’s a woman. A woman. Not a man.

Did you come up with this idiotic idea?” Hugh demanded. “It was a joint effort between me and my equivalent on the other side,” Lamar said. “If it helps, your prospective bride has to be talked into the marriage as well.” “Perfect. Just perfect.” He reviewed his options. He had none. He could marry some woman and feed his troops, or he could let them get slaughtered. What the hell, he’d done worse in his life. “I’ll see her,” he said. “That’s all we ask,” Lamar said.

I’m Kyomi, Lamar’s fiancée,” she

LaMar S. Williams, an employee in the Missionary Department, who began to send pamphlets and overruns of the church magazines each month, sometimes several hundred pounds per shipment.94 A short time later, in 1960, church leaders requested that Glen G. Fisher, who had just been released as president of the South African Mission, visit Nigeria on his way home

Dreaming about and trying new possibilities is one benefit of taming the distractions of our technological age. But if your soul is seeking quietness and all you’re doing is substituting rushing around the Internet with rushing around the clock or project list, peace will still be elusive. The real issue is the distraction and disquiet themselves, not whether they have wireless service attached.

Does it matter if my doing is done without thought to my being? If I must sacrifice my spirit on the altar of the urgent or even the perfect project d’jour, what meaning has my life ultimately than in hurrying by the minutes and leaving only nothing of eternal value? What difference does it make, if I rush from website to website, or from project to project? At the end of my days, my in-box will still be full.