Mike Heck Quotes

Show me somebody who is always smiling, always cheerful, always optimistic, and I will show you somebody who hasn't the faintest idea what the heck is really going on.

After Sunday sunset comes the days outside of the usual grind. Days when you can just be yourself. No one is breathing down your neck, telling you what to do. I don't know, something like that.

I couldn’t help but think, wasn’t it crazy how a song can do that? How it could make you feel seen, understood, and be part of something bigger. And I looked at Sara, and I knew she got it. She really got it.

You're young, and that means you have the privilege to make mistakes. That's the beauty of youth. And you have all the time in the world to correct them. You'll never know if something will work unless you take the risk. Give it a shot

Rich Purnell sipped coffee in the silent building. Only his cubicle illuminated the otherwise dark room. Continuing with his computations, he ran a final test on the software he'd written. It passed. With a relieved sigh, he sank back in his chair. Checking the clock on his computer, he shook his head. 3:42am. Being an astrodynamicist, Rich rarely had to work late. His job was the find the exact orbits and course corrections needed for any given mission. Usually, it was one of the first parts of a project; all the other steps being based on the orbit. But this time, things were reversed. Iris needed an orbital path, and nobody knew when it would launch. A non-Hoffman Mars-transfer isn't challenging, but it does require the exact locations of Earth and Mars. Planets move as time goes by. An orbit calculated for a specific launch date will work only for that date. Even a single day's difference would result in missing Mars entirely. So Rich had to calculate many orbits. He had a range of 25 days during which Iris might launch. He calculated one orbital path for each. He began an email to his boss. "Mike", he typed, "Attached are the orbital paths for Iris, in 1-day increments. We should start peer-review and vetting so they can be officially accepted. And you were right, I was here almost all night. It wasn't that bad. Nowhere near the pain of calculating orbits for Hermes. I know you get bored when I go in to the math, so I'll summarize: The small, constant thrust of Hermes's ion drives is much harder to deal with than the large point-thrusts of presupply probes. All 25 of the orbits take 349 days, and vary only slightly in thrust duration and angle. The fuel requirement is nearly identical for the orbits and is well within the capacity of EagleEye's booster. It's too bad. Earth and Mars are really badly positioned. Heck, it's almost easier to-" He stopped typing. Furrowing his brow, he stared in to the distance. "Hmm." he said. Grabbing his coffee cup, he went to the break room for a refill. ... "Rich", said Mike. Rich Purnell concentrated on his computer screen. His cubicle was a landfill of printouts, charts, and reference books. Empty coffee cups rested on every surface; take-out packaging littered the ground. "Rich", Mike said, more forcefully. Rich looked up. "Yeah?" "What the hell are you doing?" "Just a little side project. Something I wanted to check up on." "Well... that's fine, I guess", Mike said, "but you need to do your assigned work first. I asked for those satellite adjustments two weeks ago and you still haven't done them." "I need some supercomputer time." Rich said. "You need supercomputer time to calculate routine satellite adjustments?" "No, it's for this other thing I'm working on", Rich said. "Rich, seriously. You have to do your job." Rich thought for a moment. "Would now be a good time for a vacation?" He asked. Mike sighed. "You know what, Rich? I think now would be an ideal time for you to take a vacation." "Great!" Rich smiled. "I'll start right now." "Sure", Mike said. "Go on home. Get some rest." "Oh, I'm not going home", said Rich, returning to his calculations. Mike rubbed his eyes. "Ok, whatever. About those satellite orbits...?" "I'm on vacation", Rich said without looking up. Mike shrugged and walked away.

So, do I think it’s OK not to know what you believe and still be a part of the Church? Heck, yeah. In fact, I think that’s exactly what following Jesus is about.

It would have been easy to keep Carpenter. But Mike had wanted us to have the same last name, arguing that we wouldn't feel like a family otherwise. And I had wanted to feel like a family with him, truly. Isn't that a reasonable choice when you're starting a life with somebody? Try to please him and hope like heck he'll try to please you back? Duncan had teased me about the name constantly. I'd rolled my eyes, but there was no denying that it was a downgrade. Helen Dull was a terrible name. I tried to see it as a personal challenge - to prove the name wrong in every way. In the end, I failed: Helen Dull had been a much diminished version of Helen Carpenter. Though that was hardly the name's fault. it takes a lot more than just a name to bring you down that low.

2.      I’ve never wielded a sword in my life, nor have I ever been to ‘Hyrule’, wherever the heck that is. And I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure elves don’t exist. 3.      Intergalactic bounty hunter? I’m a game designer for crying out loud. I don’t want to save the galaxy. Also, I’m a guy. No chance there. 4.      Yeah right. Like I’m gonna write stories on games. Who would ever read those?

I believe you should do three things every single day of your life,” he said. “One, you should laugh. Two, you should think. Pause and think about your life. And third, you should cry. Get yourself into a state of emotion where you shed a tear. If you do all three of those things—laugh, think, and cry—well, that’s one heck of a day.” Eight

says- Last night, I lay in bed looking up at the stars in the sky and thought to myself, Where the heck is the ceiling?

which he made by soaking powdered nutgalls in water…” “What the heck are powdered nutgalls?” Chip asked. “It’s what you get after riding a horse at high speed for an hour,” Mike grumbled, gingerly adjusting the seat of his pants.

Looking at this calendar, what are the worst two months of the year when the barrel would be completely empty—meaning everything is crap. Your answer is November and December. Would Aunt Bee ever consider moving in these months? Heck, NO! She is focused on holidays, baking, and hunkering down for the winter.

When the rain delay ended, the Cubs came out looking fresh and hungry. Schwarber raced out to the plate and lashed a single to start things off. The Cubs scored two runs. Cleveland tried to fight back one more time, but this time the comeback fell short. Mike Montgomery was on the mound for Chicago. Michael Martínez was the batter. He chopped a ground ball to third base. “Tough play,” Joe Buck said on television, but third baseman Kris Bryant had no doubts, and he grabbed the ball and threw it across the infield. As he threw, he smiled. That’s the part every Cubs fan remembers. The smile. Martínez was out, the Cubs were champions, and 108 years of sadness, heartbreak, and absurdity came down crashing. And I’ve always wondered: What the heck did Jason Heyward say?

The next morning a squawking Fuzzbucket awoke Michele from her tossing and turning. Her head hurt from dreaming a series of chasing, getting-caught, getting-away dreams. She felt exhausted and not ready to hear about anymore crises from the three kids standing at the foot of her bed. "Michael! Move that drippy bottle," she grumbled. "It's a clue," Michael told her. "Big deal," Michele said, feeling ill at her brother and more ill at herself for taking it out on him. "Sorry, Mike," she added, reaching for the limp note he held out to her. She yawned. Rubbing the sleep from the corners of her eyes, she read the clue in a mumbled monotone: If not finding the head is what you fear, You'd better check out the Van . . ." "What the heck does this mean?" Michele asked irritably. "The rest of the word is washed away. It's just a smear of blue ink." She tossed the note back at them. "We know what it means!" Jo Dee squealed. "At least Brian does." Michele rubbed her tangled hair. The top of her head felt like a pile of pinestraw and she wasn't sure she liked Brian seeing her all messy. He just stood there in his neat jeans and tee shirt looking smart. "Oh, all right," she grumbled. "I give up. What does it mean?" "Well," said Brian. "I thought at first Van might be the beginning of the word "Vandyke" which is a pointy kind of beard like the artist Van Gogh wore." Michele yawned again and stretched back on her pillow as though she were bored and could doze off. "I know that," she barked. Brian sighed and turned on his heels. "C'mon, kids, let's leave Sleeping Ugly alone and start on this clue ourselves." "Wait!" Michele said, sitting upright. "I'm sorry. My head just hurts," she said, rubbing it dramatically as evidence. "Throbs—or rings?" Brian asked with a smile. "Clangs like a bell," Michele said, grinning back at him.

What the heck are powdered nutgalls?” Chip asked. “It’s what you get after riding a horse at high speed for an hour,” Mike grumbled, gingerly adjusting the seat of his pants.

We have to get those ten or fifteen emotions down to three or four. When I try to think what Kobe would want to have happen in a situation like this, I think he would want to get back to the bouncing ball as soon as possible. We have an important game Tuesday. We should want to bounce the ball. We should want to squeak our sneakers. We should want to compete like crazy, and we will. Let’s respect that we have our health. Let’s respect that we have the ability to do this, to play basketball, and let’s try to have a heck of a lot of fun while we’re doing it.