Mccoy Quotes

Hell wasn't a major reservoir of evil, any more then Heaven, in Crowley's opinion, was a fountain of goodness; they were just sides in the great cosmic chess game. Where you found the real McCoy, the real grace and the real heart-stopping evil, was right inside the human mind.

Black Court vampires. I just shortened it some." Ebenezar tsked. "Blampires. That's the problem with you young people. Shortening all the words.

There're things we keep hidden from one another. Things we hide from ourselves. Things that are kept hidden from us. And things no one knows. You always learn the damnedest things at the worst possible times.

There were people who called themselves Satanists who made Crowley squirm. It wasn't just the things they did, it was the way they blamed it all on Hell. They'd come up with some stomach-churning idea that no demon could have thought of in a thousand years, some dark and mindless unpleasantness that only a fully-functioning human brain could conceive, then shout "The Devil Made Me Do It" and get the sympathy of the court when the whole point was that the Devil hardly ever made anyone do anything. He didn't have to. That was what some humans found hard to understand. Hell wasn't a major reservoir of evil, any more than Heaven, in Crowley's opinion, was a fountain of goodness; they were just sides in the great cosmic chess game. Where you found the real McCoy, the real grace and the real heart-stopping evil, was right inside the human mind.

And I looked out at the dog, and McCoy trying to cradle her in one arm and cut the rope with t’other, and I said, ‘What goes around, comes around, daddy.’ “And he just smiled. A wicked smile. And he nodded. And he kept on driving, turning left onto the road to the church.”  

There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do.

Hell wasn't a major reservoir of evil, any more than Heaven, in Crowley's opinion, was a fountain of goodness; they were just sides in the great cosmic chess game. Where you found the real McCoy, the real grace and the real heart-stopping evil, was right inside the human mind.

People often miss things that don't exist--miss things that were but are not anymore.

If we wait until life is in order before making our decision, we'll never make any

The white flashed back into a red ball in the southeast. They all knew what it was. It was Orlando, or McCoy Base, or both. It was the power supply for Timucuan County. Thus the lights went out, and in that moment civilization in Fort Repose retreated a hundred years. So ended The Day.

Baby, I'm not afraid. I've been to hell and back. I'm a free spirit, a wild child and a renegade.

Where you found the real McCoy, the real grace and the real heart-stopping evil, was right inside the human mind.

The marks on our lives are like music notes on the page--they sing a song.

Let's go sit and hate a bunch of people.

BILLY: Did you ever watch Star Trek? MACHIAVELLI: Do I look like I watch Star Trek? BILLY: It's hard to tell who's a Trekkie. MACHIAVELLI: Billy, I ran one of the most sophisticated secret service organizations in the world. I did not have time for Star Trek. (pause) I was more of a Star Wars fan. Why do you ask? BILLY: Well, when Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock beamed down to a planet, usually with Dr. McCoy and sometimes with Scotty from engineering... MACHIAVELLI: Wait a minute--what's Mr. Spock again? BILLY: A Vulcan. MACHIAVELLI: His rank. BILLY: The first officer. MACHIAVELLI: So the captain, the first officer, the ship's doctor, and sometimes the engineer all beam down to a planet. Together. The entire complement of the senior officers? BILLY: (nods) MACHIAVELLI: And who has command of the ship? BILLY: (shrug) I don't know. Junior officers, I guess. MACHIAVELLI: If they worked for me I'd have them court-martialed. That sounds like a gross dereliction of duty. BILLY: I know. I always thought it was a little odd myself.

We all tell little lies about ourselves, Our past, our presents. We think some of them are minuscule, unimportant, And others, large and incriminating. But they are the same. Only God Has enough of the story to judge our souls.

Sometimes, you simply must give yourself permission to fall apart.

Those who look for a reason to fear will find one, and those without reason will follow.

It's peculiar to me,' she said, 'that everybody pays so much attention to living and so little to dying. Why are these high-powered scientists always screwing around trying to prolong life instead of finding pleasant ways to end it? There must be a hell of a lot of people in the world like me--who want to die but haven't got the guts.

there is no new experience in life. something may happen to you that you think has never happened before, that you think is brand new, but you are mistaken. you have only to see or smell or hear or feel a certain something and you will discover that this experience you thought was new has happened before.

McCoy looked at him with true regret and sighed heavily. “You’re management now, Garrett. There’s no going back. And you can’t have your . . . your boyfriend working under you.” Ty opened his mouth, and McCoy held up his hand. “If you make a joke, I’ll shoot you.

I was gypsy when gypsy wasn't cool.

I've never been fooled by the romantic, grand gestures. Love is all about the little things, the everyday considerations, kindnesses, and pardons.

I wanted to become a person who didn’t envy others. After all, life wasn’t a competition, it was a personal journey

They tried to define her. Some called her perpetually enigmatic. Some said she was fucking crazy. I didn't matter to her what they called her. She knew she was Free.

And I stood there and took it because I was an object. We were all objects to Marcus McCoy.

I'll just stay ten feet away from him at all times so I don't accidentally trip and fall and land lips first on his mouth.

Dear God, that man has a magnificent body.' ............. 'It’s like having a cupcake thrust in front of your face and not being allowed to have a lick of the icing.

Kiss me one last time Skye... before I die. I want to enter heaven with the taste of you on my lips.

Why did you save my life?” “Because I would rather endure the hell of this Earth with you than spend an eternity in paradise without you,” he replied without hesitation.

Whenever one would see a little filly that caught his eye, he would look at her and simply say one word that would alert the others that she has been claimed and was strictly off-limits to the rest of the McCoys. Stepping closer to the table, he loudly proclaimed, "Tag!" As soon as the word had left Aron's mouth, the younger men looked up at him in suprise. Issac bit back a snort, and Jacob simply said, "Thank God." Their brother has finally decided to come out of hiding.

Man is guaranteed only those rights which he can defend.

He kicked my ass, but he also treated me like a person and not just some girl.

You know...acting like a dick...won't make yours any bigger.

I would rather drown in the depths of Love than splash around on the shore of complacency.

Let’s go sit and hate a bunch of people.

But now they’ve got Mr. Blackbourne following McCoy. See? He’s in deep shit now if Mr. Blackbourne’s the one hunting him.

You win some, you lose some, let Karma takes its course… - Cocoy McCoy -

West Virginia had the Hatfield and the McCoys. Shakespeare had the Capulets and the Montagues. Salvation had the Martins and the Sweets.

When I was six, I discovered a terrible truth: I was the only human being on the planet. I was the seed and the sower and I made myself several seconds from the event horizon at the end of time - at the x before time began. Indeed, there were six billion other carbon-based sapient life forms moiling in the earth, but none of them were the real McCoy. I'm the real McCoy. The rest? Cardboard props, marionettes, grist for the mill. After I made me, I broke the mold under my heel.

With four-to-one odds against us, our ability to leave the encounter without serious damage becomes seriously impaired." "Spock," McCoy said gently, "your bedside manner is flawless. You mean, we're all going to be blown to hell." Spock hesitated, then nodded.

The past is a black, heavy thing. It will quietly smother our spirits if we let it. You must make peace with it and move forward.

Tomorrow was a new day, with no memory or sentiments of yesterday.

I don't know why, but I didn't want her to call me Dick anymore. It was feeling kind of fake. 'Maybe we should use our real names outside of class. Yours is Rosetta, right?' 'Yes. Rosetta Vaughn.' 'All right,' I said. 'Well, mine is - ' 'Seth McCoy. I know.' She kind of wrapped her arms around herself like she was getting cold. 'I've known since February fourteenth, actually.' She's memorized the date she found out my name? What the hell? She laughed. 'Don't freak out! I only remember because it was Valentine's Day.' As if that explained it. 'And why do you remember learning my name on Valentine's Day?' 'Kendall Eckman was running after you in the hall screaming, "Seth McCoy, if you don't buy a rose from me, I'll kill you!" She was doing that Valentine's drama club fundraiser. Remember?' 'Actually, yes.' What I remembered was getting stoned with Isaac before school, and Kendall harshing my mellow the minute we walked in the door. Rosetta was looking like there was more to this story. 'And after she kept asking, you bought a red one?' 'Right. And I passed it off to -' I'd been about to say 'some chick,' but with how intently she was watching me, I was getting a different idea. '-you, right?' She extended her arm to pass me an imaginary rose in the same way I must have handed her a real one. Then she imitated the corny voice I must have used. 'Here, beautiful. Have a wonderful Valentine's Day.' Oh, Christ. The stupid shit I said sometimes.

Exitus Acta Probat---the outcome justifies the deed.

The world is too large and too diverse for us to stay rooted in social convention when it no longer strengthens the people for whom it was created.

It's our duty to love the poor, the orphaned, the weary and burdened. Matthew 11:28. Love can be its own kind of war.

I'd rather apologize to you for not being who you want me to be than apologize to God for not being who I should be.

Tears were misunderstood, she thought, and used inappropriately most often. They were designed as a private response of being. Because sometimes life filled you to the brim and spilled over. Tears were the body's way of cleansing the overflow of emotions, from sorrow to joy and so many others that couldn't be described.

Also,' McCoy continued, 'this is the yearly reminder that our beloved scoreboard's birthday, the anniversary of its donation to the school, is coming up in just a few short weeks. So everyone get ready, prepare your offerings, and be ready to celebrate this great occasion!' The PA system went quiet. I stared at the ceiling. Did he just say 'offerings?' For a scoreboard?

Somewhere along the line Coltrane's soprano sax runs out of steam. Now it's McCoy Tyner's piano solo I hear, the left hand carving out a repetitious rhythm and the right layering on thick, forbidding chords. Like some mythic scene, the music portrays somebody's - a nameless, faceless somebody's - dim past, all the details laid out as clearly as entrails being dragged out of the darkness. Or at least that's how it sounds to me. The patient, repeating music ever so slowly breaks apart the real, rearranging the pieces. It has a hypnotic, menacing smell, just like the forest.

Fuathan don’t come out until after dark. Sunlight kills them.’ ‘Like vampires?’ ‘Kind of. Very mean, sub-aquatic vampires who don’t need to drink your blood, but might do it anyway, just for fun.

She has a fiery soul that cannot be tamed. She has free spirit that cannot be maimed. She moves with the wind and flows with the river. She howls at the moon and smiles at the sun. Just when you think she is finished, she declares, “I’ve just begun.” Like wild flowers, she grows where she decides to push through fallow ground. Like wild fires, she spreads with speed that can’t be drowned. She has mystery in her blood, magic in her touch and regardless of her frame she can be too much-wild woman. She is not predictable, controllable nor the people pleasing kind. That’s why she is called wild woman and can never be defined.

I have a voice just as much as you do. It’s a choice we make every minute. What truths are important enough to say aloud and what ones are important just to know. That’s the power. You’ve got to be discerning. You can change your mind any time you want, but you can’t take your words back. Not ever.

I took a deep breath and sighed in awe. My proverbial penis had just gotten a serious chubby.

Is this bitch crazy? I don't want to 'accidentally' drown

I have a problem with state lines, anyway. They interrupt things. They fragment ecosystems, which are nature's most gracious and logical land divisions.

The idea of fate permeated the religion of the Vikings at every turn. Everything in the universe, even the Gods, was subject to it.

This quest is not a summer's game. It is not safe, it is not tame. Consider this before you pack - Some of you may not come back.

…the relationship with complete honesty doesn’t exist. Everyone keeps something to herself. We do it to protect something. Ourselves or our lovers or our relationship.

Testing has found that professional interrogators perform within the 45 to 60 percent range in sorting truth from lies, little better than flipping a coin.

should get it x-rayed

Human hearts are full of strife. It's a fallen world, my dears. We can only do our best to establish safe havens where we can.

Isn’t there something I can talk about that won’t remind you that you wish you were dead?’ I asked. ‘No,’ she said.

the smartest man in the room doesn't visit many rooms.

It only takes one minute to find a really good book, but it can give you a lifetime of memories when you read a really good book that leaves you with lasting impression.

Most used bookstores look like they defeated their owners at some point. Maybe once upon a time, the collection was carefully curated, but eventually fatigue set in and the place was overrun, one dog-eared copy of Cold Sassy Tree at at time.

I know that no one is my judge. I live according to my own conscience and value discernment which is governed by Holy Spirit. I know my intentions and I walk my path with a clear conscience. Be careful not to make assumptions. I don't even allow my left hand to know what my right hand does. What makes you think I should explain my every unction and action to you?

We can't force life to do what we want when we want it. We can't change yesterday or control tomorrow. We can only live today as best we can. And it just might turn out better than expected

I encourage you to remember that you are, indeed, as the stars. You glow with the same intensity. The answers that you seek outside of yourself may very well be found within the cosmic intelligence inside you. Go ahead; show the world what you are made of! Sparkle, shine, light the way, and brightly blaze as you are meant to do.

It's peculiar to me,' she said, 'that everybody pays so much attention to living and so little to dying. Why are these high-powered scientists always screwing around trying to prolong life instead of finding pleasant ways to end it? There must be a hell of a lot of people in the world like me - who want to die but haven't got the guts -

What you feel for me, is it caused by your vampirism, or do you yourself feel that way? Because, I mean, I guess I AM, technically, like a walking hamburger. Who wouldn't want a free meal?" I asked tentatively.

Psychology’s service to U.S. national security has produced a variant of what the psychiatrist Robert Lifton has called, in his study of Nazi doctors, a “Faustian bargain.” In this case, the price paid has been the American Psychological Association’s collective silence, ethical “numbing,” and, over time, historical amnesia. 3 Indeed, Lifton emphasizes that “the Nazis were not the only ones to involve doctors in evil”; in defense of this argument, he cites the Cold War “role of …American physicians and psychologists employed by the Central Intelligence Agency…for unethical medical and psychological experiments involving drugs and mind manipulation.” 4

We tell ourselves our beliefs are persecuted despite being overrepresented in government, and this is especially tone-deaf when compared to the actual persecution and marginalization of people of color, women, and immigrants.

I wasn't raised to let a woman walk through a dimly lit parking lot alone. Wasn't born in a cornfield, you know.” Velia turned. “No, I didn't know. So, you're quite a gentleman. Don't we sound like a good pair—the devil woman and the gentleman?

Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful and that we are small and insignificant. Meterologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. What does it tell you?

It's just human, or inhuman, nature: People will find a way to make a big deal out of their differences-the smaller, the better. It reminded me of the Mantagues and the Capulets (if I wanted to think highbrow), or the Hatfields and the McCoys (if I wanted to go lowbrow)...or the Jets and the Sharks (if I happened to feel musical).

I am care free by nature but that doesn't mean that I am careless or that I care less. I simply pass on passive-aggressive. Why dodge bullets? This world is not a place for cowards. If we are going to shoot then let's freaking shoot straight. Energy is easily recognized and understood. I don't make time anymore for people that I have to interpret beyond what they say and what they are really saying. It's not my Aspie nature. It is my angel nature. I know every thing isn't always black or white, but I am so over engaging with people who are 50 shades of grey. Be real with me or be gone....because if we aren't Really present with others then we are disconnected anyway.

He looked at me with such raw need that my heart skipped a beat. He licked his lips and slowly lowered his head to mine. Does it even matter if he only wants me for my blood?

I stood up in a flash and flushed a light shade of furious.

So you believe in blood sucking fangers, but you don't believe in the existence of werewolves. What kind of narrow minded crap is that?

At least I could tell she wouldn't try to kill me in my sleep now.

Sorry. Didn't mean to step on any dead toes.

Oh, shut up Hagan. I'm not doing it for you; I'm doing it for me. I don't want your blood getting all over my outfit.

What did you think was going to ensue when you chose Hagan's big ass to train me? That guy is wicked fierce and a total badass.

I guess when you're happy where you are, the grass don't seem so green on the other side of the fence. Maybe it never was.

Being exactly who you are is a powerful energy force.

This “wrong” place is telling you everything you need to know about yourself to get into the right one.

McCoy: Representing the High Tier...Leonard James Akaar. Spock: The child was named Leonard James Akaar? Kirk nods. McCoy: Has a kind of a ring to it don't you think, James? Kirk: Yes, I think it is a name that will go down in galactic history, Leonard. What do you think, Spock? Spock: I think you both will be insufferably pleased with yourselves for at least a month...sir.

Goddess Rising This is for the women Who have walked with hidden shame Stirring like all is well Though weighted down in pain. This is for her Inner Child Who longs to forget Her innocence stolen Body, soul and spirit rent into pieces- fragments-broken-bent This is for the Maiden Longing to belong -To another - In hopes to make right the darkened wrongs Not realizing-blinded by oozing wounds Her own innate delicious power Thick within her womb This is for the Mother Breaking eons of fettered chains For the children she has birthed Through blood and breaths of change She calls them Redemption Regardless of their names This is for the Crone Who called her shattered pieces Home To herself- To all her luminous bodies Where she never dared to feel Making strong her bones Crushing~ oppressors With the swaying of her hips Her hands soaring like doves Honey dripping from her lips This is for the Wild Woman Who traversed the Underground Leaving her footprints While taming the Hellhounds. Like a seed breaking fallow ground Emerging fruitful garden No longer bound By the nightmare of the past Awakened from the Dream- Of Separation SHE. IS.- merging realms between. This is for the woman, for the Goddess For me For you Rising from our ashes Making ALL things new~

I watched him suck on the bag and I shivered involuntarily at the sudden memory of Jameson’s fangs sliding into my neck. I vividly remembered the instant feeling of ecstasy that overtook my body last night when he fed from me and the intense orgasms that followed.

I’m not staying Archer, I can’t trust you not to hurt me again if it serves whatever purposes you decide to come up with that day. I want nothing more to do with you…with any of you. I’m done with vampires. You all have done nothing but bring me pain since I met you.

McCoy, drained and hollow-eyed, couldn't take his eyes off the life vest belonging to the boy who'd slipped away from the group during the night. The empty vest spooked McCoy. All its straps were still tightly tied-it looked like some trick that Houdini might've played. Then McCoy peered into the water and got another shock: the boy was floating below him, spread-eagled, about fifteen feet below the surface. He lay motionless until a current caught him; then it was as if he were flying in the depths. Jesus, McCoy thought, Mother of God. He started saying the rosary over and over. McCoy had never been overly religious; his mom was the spiritual one in the family. But now he began the process of what he'd later call his purification; he'd started asking God to forgive him of his sins. He was resolved to live but he was getting ready to die.

There are parts of me that are broken. Thank you, they don't need fixing. There are places and people that I don't 'fit in' with. Thank you, I don't belong. There are words that have a comletely different meaning to me than for others. Thank you, I appreciate my own unique values. There are moments that I feel all alone in the world. Thank you, I rather enjoy and appreciate my solitude. There are people who judge me because they find me to be too shallow or too deep. Thank you, I love exploring the entirety of the ocean. There are people who truly love and value me just as I am. Thank you, you enrich my life profoundly. There is always room for expansion to grow, grace for every mistake, strength made perfect in every weakness and highest kudos for the courage to continue this adventurous soul mission called Life. Thank you, I am truly happy to be here.

We are a couple of messy bisexuals.” “Speak for yourself. I didn’t cheat on anyone. You’re a messy bisexual. I’m an untidy queer.” “I’m sorry that you’re stuck here in my attic with my bullshit.” “Your attic is fine. Your bullshit is fine. But you know, Lee, what you did to Vincent… it’s everything people say is shitty about us. That we can’t make up our minds. That we can’t be with one person. That we cheat.” “That’s not fair,” I say. I’m not trying to defend what I’ve done, but I also don’t think I should be expected to model ideal bisexual behavior—whatever that is—at all times. When straight people cheat, they aren’t failing the whole straight population. They are just failing one person.

All at once Sherman was aware of a figure approaching him on the sidewalk, in the wet black shadows of the town houses and the trees. Even from fifty feet away, in the darkness, he could tell. It was that deep worry that lives in the base of the skull of every resident of Park Avenue south of Ninety-sixth Street—a black youth, tall, rangy, wearing white sneakers. Now he was forty feet away, thirty-five. Sherman stared at him. Well, let him come! I’m not budging! It’s my territory! I’m not giving way for any street punks! The black youth suddenly made a ninety-degree turn and cut straight across the street to the sidewalk on the other side. The feeble yellow of a sodium-vapor streetlight reflected for an instant on his face as he checked Sherman out. He had crossed over! What a stroke of luck! Not once did it dawn on Sherman McCoy that what the boy had seen was a thirty-eight-year-old white man, soaking wet, dressed in some sort of military-looking raincoat full of straps and buckles, holding a violently lurching animal in his arms, staring, bug-eyed, and talking to himself.

To My Priestess Sisters To my priestess sisters: the keepers of mysteries, the medicine women, the story keepers and story tellers, the holy magicians, the wild warriors, the original ones, the ones who carry the ancients within the marrow of your bones, the ones forged in the fires, the ones who have bathed in thier own blood, the heroines who wear thier scars as stars, the ones who give birth to their visions and dreams, the ones who weep and howl upon the holy altars, the avatars, the mothers, maidens and crones, the mystics, the oracles, the artists, the musicians, the virgins, the sensual and sexual, the women of our world- I honor you. I stand for you and with you. I celebrate both your autonomy and our sisterhood of One. We are many. We are fierce. We are tender. We are the change agents and we are radically holding and clearing space for the bursting forth of the holy seeds of the collective conscience and consciousness. We are manifestors and flames of purification and transformation. We are living our lives in authenticity, vulnerability, transparency and unapologetically. We are committed to integrity, impeccability, accountability, responsibility and passionate love. We are here on purpose, with purpose and give no energy to conformity, acceptance or approval. We are the daughters of the earth and the courageous of the cosmos. Priestess, keep living your life passionately, raising the cosmic vibrations and lowering your standards for no one. You are brazenly blessed and a force of nature. Nurture yourself and one another. You are a crystalline bridge between realms and uniting heaven and earth. You are a priestess and you are divinely anointed, appointed and unstoppable.

But the attitude that Viking society held up as the ideal one was a heroic stoicism. In the words of archaeologist Neil Price, "The outcome of our actions, our fate, is already decided and therefore does not matter. What is important is the manner of our conduct as we go to meet it." You couldn't change what was going to happen to you, but you could at least face it with honor and dignity. The best death was to go down fighting, preferably with a smile on your lips. Life is precarious by nature, but this was especially true in the Viking Age, which made this fatalism, and stoicism in the face of it, especially poignant. The model of this ideal was Odin's amassing an army in Valhalla in preparation for Ragnarok. He knew that Fenrir, "the wolf", was going to murder him one way or another. Perhaps on some level he hoped that by gathering all of the best warriors to fight alongside him, he could prevent the inevitable. But deep down he knew that his struggle was hopeless - yet he determined to struggle just the same, and to die in the most radiant blaze of glory he could muster.

Well the end is coming, isn't it? We spend our entire lives running from it. No speaking of it allowed. Fearing it for our loved ones." She shook her head and folded the burp cloth in her hand. "But after all we've seen of the world, I decided I'll get more joy out of the days I have left if I just acknowledge that death is part of life. The leaves on an apple tree blossom yield and fall. No use fretting over the sweetness of the fruit. Got to pick it when it looks ripe and move on. It's the fool who's forlorn over what he imagines he's lost. I'm sure that's in the Gospel somewhere." Even if it wasn't, Rachel would amend the text to her liking. The Word according to Rachel, as some complained. Not Marilla of course. Rachel was her closest friend, so she kept quiet, in Cuthbert fashion.

I know you are tired. I know you are hurting. I know that even among the crowds and or with your closest loved ones, you feel terribly alone in the world. I know that in the quietness, a thousand hell hounds are barking and snarling at your heels. They tell you, "Everything is wrong with you. You are a failure. You will never live to see your dreams and visions come to pass. You know you should just throw in the towel. No one would even miss you if you were gone. Exit from this cruel insane assylum you call home. We will even tell you how to end 'it'." But don't you dare entertain those hounds of hell, no, not even for one moment. See, you not only have the elixir of Life inside of your organs and your veins; you are the Elixir of Life of a Celestial domain. For every hell hound nipping at your ears, there are eight hundred angels rushing to you with every holy breath....you take. Every step you make fuels the fire of Love in your behalf. See, nothing is wrong with you. Every thing is right with you. You are cut from iron. You have long exchanged your velveteen fabric and cotton stuffing for blazen guts and a heart of gold. You are the head and not the tail. You are the water in the desert, the ripple in the steam, the sword AND the stone and you, glorious being, are not alone! We are one and we are many. We've known lack, but we are plenty. We are not on the cusp of a break through. We are the cusp and we are the break --- through. We are the old and we are the new. Who knew? You did. You do. And don't you ever forget that.