Miles Carter Quotes

You shouldn't judge someone until you've walk a mile through an underground tunnel in her uncomfortable shoes

I mean she's Cleopatra... shouldn't she and Antony have known better? They were so different..." "Variety is the spice of life" "And from a thousand miles apart" "Absence makes the heart grow fonder

These kids are all trying so hard to be weird. I'm genuinely weird, so I can spot the effort a mile away.

He hadn’t factored in her being hundreds of miles away from home with no family or friends. I’ve been a complete wanker, he chastised himself. “Bloody hell, I hadn’t taken that into account. Maybe Kat’s right,” he remarked, fixated on the TV.   

I should've seen this coming miles away; should've known that you would never bare your soul to me like I bared mine to you.

Outside the window, there slides past that unimaginable and deserted vastness where night is coming on, the sun declining in ghastly blood-streaked splendour like a public execution across, it would seem, half a continent, where live only bears and shooting stars and the wolves who lap congealing ice from water that holds within it the entire sky. All white with snow as if under dustsheets, as if laid away eternally as soon as brought back from the shop, never to be used or touched. Horrors! And, as on a cyclorama, this unnatural spectacle rolls past at twenty-odd miles an hour in a tidy frame of lace curtains only a little the worse for soot and drapes of a heavy velvet of dark, dusty blue.

So goodbye from Alaska, where I am the most important person for twenty miles in any direction. (I'm the only person for twenty miles in any direction.) Maddie

For mile after mile the strangler vines choked the sal trees, one grey trunk encircling another, until the whole jungle resembled some terrible tangled knot in which it was impossible to tell murderer from victim.

I matched him glare for glare and refused to back down. I’d learnt that much, working with the guys we recruited for protection work. Forget your average heavy…we used the elite. Ex-commandos used to living behind enemy lines on nothing more than fresh air and dung beetles, and who could zero in on a target using mouse farts three miles away.

There's something about the joint witnessing of the world that gives the experience a sense of permanence.

To whom it may concern, I don't know what brought you to this little shed, but I hope you'll be happy here - for however long you need to stay. I've taken the liberty of restocking the woodpile and bringing some new blankets and a few dishes, some matches and a mirror (because even though you may be the only person for twenty miles in any direction, most people feel better when they know what their hair looks like). Help yourself to the canned goods - that's what they're here for. But most of all, be careful and take care of this place. It's special to me. Maddie (and me, too - Logan)

He’s the kind of man everyone notices. He doesn’t stand a chance of staying undercover. He stands out from a million miles away. The fact that he doesn’t realize that only makes him more attractive.

Henry vio como desaparecían entre los árboles, y tan pronto como ya no pudo ver su pelo oscuro, cerró los ojos. Estos seis meses eran de ella para hacer lo que ella quisiera; no tenía ni voz ni voto sobre ellos, y tenía que respetarlo que sin importa lo mucho que le doliera verla marcharse con James. En menos de medio año, volvería a ser suya, y se aseguraría de recordarle por qué se había casado con él en primer lugar. Hasta entonces, la espina que James había clavado en su corazón sólo podía hacerlo más profundamente, pero como había hecho durante los últimos miles de años, tendría que soportarlo. Por Kate. Por sus vidas juntos. Y porque no tenía otra opción. -Henry-

The only way out of this was to figure out a compromise they could both live with. Maybe I could convince Miles and Savannah to forgo the public apology if I met them over coffee. Maybe I could convince Evie to stop crying foul. And hey! After that maybe I could spin straw into gold!

We head for 680, which will take us seventeen miles south to the next attack, the third that month. October 1978. Carter was president. Grease had been the huge summer movie, and John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John’s “Summer Nights” was still a radio mainstay, though the Who’s “Who Are You” was climbing the charts. The fresh-scrubbed face of thirteen-year-old Brooke Shields stared blankly from the cover of Seventeen. The Yankees beat the Dodgers in the World Series. Sid Vicious’s girlfriend Nancy Spungen bled to death from a stab wound on a bathroom floor at the Chelsea Hotel. John Paul II was the new pope. Three days before the San Ramon attack, the movie Halloween was released.

So, fiancé is it, now? I guess it was easier to say than to say she is the woman who took off on a brisk jog a thousand miles away from you shortly after the question was popped. Or sayin' you're the asshole her brother wants to kill for stickin' your dick in his sister after you were friends in high school.

So, fiancé is it, now? I guess it was easier to say than to say she is the woman who took off on a brisk jog a thousand miles away from you shortly after the question was popped. Or sayin' you're the asshole her brother wants to kill for stickin' your dick in his sister after you were friends in high school

You can't rely on the attainment of goals or journeys, no matter how big or small, for your happiness, because the attainment of that goal will only bring you temporary gratification. If you want to be happy, then you must enjoy it all, at whatever point you're at, from the beginning to the end. Because ultimately happiness is the acceptance of the journey as it is now, not the promise of the other shore.

maybe it was the loneliness of being on your own when you're surrounded by people, in the same way that you can sit alone on a mountain top and not feel remotely lonely, whereas find yourself in a middle of a city surrounded by people and you can feel totally isolated

Indeed, for one day, William Frederick Cody stole center stage from a world war. The accolades were indeed impressive. Said Lieutenant General Nelson A. Miles: "Colonel Cody was a high-minded gentleman, and a great scout. He performed a great work in the West for the pioneers and for the generations coming after them and his exploits will live forever in history." In the years following, former president Theodore Roosevelt, in accepting an honorary vice-presidency in the Buffalo Bill Memorial Association, called Cody "the most renowned of those men, steel-thewed and iron-nerved, whose daring opened the West to settlement and civilization ... an American of Americans.... He embodied those traits of courage, strength and self-reliant hardihood which are vital to the well-being of the nation." If Cody's fame and popularity seem strange to us today-he was, after all, celebrated for his prowess in killing, both buffalo and Indians-it is because his virtues were nineteenth-century virtues, and we live in an age of disillusion and cynicism.

Negroes raised during the Civil War. Continued Cody: "On the second day out we suddenly discovered on the opposite side of the Saline River, about a mile distant, a large body of Indians, who were charging down upon us. Major Armes, placing the cannon on a little knoll, limbered it up and left twenty men to guard it; and then, with the rest of the

10 miles inland, hunkering under a ceiling of low cloud, lay before me like a pool of mercury. In the seventeenth century, the Brahan Seer, a sort of Scottish

We need them? Is that the best reason you can come up with? He laughed, a rasping, mechanical sound. "The kings of the ocean are gone, and what is our argument for their return? We need them? We? Their murderers? The ones that made the water bitter in their mouths, and killed the food they ate? The ones that made the ocean boil red with their blood for miles around? Men need them? Those vermin? Those stringing insects? Struggling pustulent humanity--needs them? Do you think a whale cares? You might as well need the sun to rise at midnight because you're feeling a bit chilly. Yes, of course, certainly we need them, But the question is, do we deserve them?

We need them? Is that the best reason you can come up with? He laughed, a rasping, mechanical sound. "The kings of the ocean are gone, and what is our argument for their return? We need them? We? Their murderers? The ones that made the water bitter in their mouths, and killed the food they ate? The ones that made the ocean boil red with their blood for miles around? Men need them? Those vermin? Those stinging insects? Struggling pustulent humanity--needs them? Do you think a whale cares? You might as well need the sun to rise at midnight because you're feeling a bit chilly. Yes, of course, certainly we need them, But the question is, do we deserve them?

Leaving the Connecticut River March 8, 1704 Temperature 40 degrees The only good thing about this rough land was firewood. No human had ever gathered a fallen branch here. So they could stay warm, but they had nothing to cook over the flames. It seemed to Eben the Indians ought to worry more about this than they did. They spent every daylight hour looking for game, found nothing and did not mention it. Instead, they sat by the fire, smoked and told war stories. It was the captives who discussed food, describing meals they had had a month ago or hoped to have in the future. They discussed pancakes, maple syrup and butter. Stew and biscuits and apple pie. Ruth said to Mercy, “You and Eben and Joseph are so proud of your savage vocabulary. Tell them they’re Indians, they’re supposed to know how to find deer.” “There aren’t any deer,” said Joseph. Ruth snorted. “We just have stupid Indians.” Suddenly the whole thing seemed hilarious to Mercy: a little circle of starving white children, crouching in the snow, and a little circle of apparently not starving Indian men, sitting in the snow, all of them surrounded by hundreds of miles of trees, while Ruth spat fire. “Ruth,” said Mercy, “do you know what your name means?” “My name is Ruth.” “Your name is Mahakemo,” Mercy told her. “And it means ‘Fire Eats Her’.” Mercy began to laugh, and Joseph and Eben and Sarah laughed with her. Even Eliza looked interested, but Ruth, furious to find that the Indians were laughing at her instead of being respectful of her, began throwing things at Mercy. Mercy rolled out of range while Ruth pelted her with Joseph’s hat and Tannhahorens’s mittens and then with snowballs; finding them too soft, Ruth grabbed her Indians powder horn. Mercy jumped up and ran away from Ruth and out into the snow, and in front of her were a pair of yellow eyes. The eyes were level with Mercy’s waist. They were not human eyes. No deer for humans also meant no deer for wolves. Mercy meant to scream, but Tannhahorens got there first, in the form of a bullet. Wolf for dinner. It turned out that the English could eat anything if they were hungry enough.

The Connecticut River March 2, 1704 Temperature 10 degrees “Oh, Eben!” breathed Mercy, thrilled and astonished. “Guess what?” The glare off the ice was bothering him, and as the temperature rose, the snow on the frozen river was turning to slush. His moccasins were soaked and his feet were so cold he could hardly bear the pressure of each step. “What?” “I can figure out Mohawk words, Eben!” she said excitedly. “Sun was one of the first words Tannhahorens taught us. And we learned to count, so I know the number two. Thorakwaneken means ‘Two Suns.’ Your master’s name is Two Suns! And cold--that’s the word we use most. Eunice’s master is Cold Sun.” She turned her own sunny smile on him. Eben was unsettled by how proud she was. He did not want to compliment her. Uneasily, he said, “What does Tannhahorens mean?” “I haven’t figured that out. He’s told me, but I can’t piece together whatever he’s saying. I don’t know what Munnonock means either.” Mercy darted across the slush to her Indian master, and although they were too far away for Eben to hear, he knew she was asking Tannhahorens to explain again the meaning of his name and hers. He knew, everyone on the frontier knew, how quickly captive English children slid into being Indians, but he had not thought he would witness it in a week. He had thought it would be three-year-olds, like Daniel, or seven-year-olds, like Eunice. But it was Mercy. Ruth walked next to Eben. For once their horror was equal. A mile or so of silence, and then Ruth spoke. “The Indians have a sacred leader. Their powwow. He has a ceremony by which all white blood is removed. They say it is a wondrous thing and never fails.” They walked on. The temperature had dropped again and each of Eben’s moccasins was solid with ice. Every time he set his foot down, he stuck to the congealing slick of the river and had to tear himself free. Soon the moccasins would be destroyed and he would be barefoot. “I know now why it never fails,” said Ruth. “The children arrive at the ceremony ready to be Indian.

I didn’t mean hang glide. I meant do things that give you an adrenaline rush?” “I still get one every time I take off. When I’m barreling that plane down the runway at a hundred and eighty miles an hour and I pull back on the yoke to lift the nose and we break from the ground…it’s like the first time, every time.” “So you’re a thrill seeker.” Carter shrugged. “At times. Life without a little thrill is boring, beautiful.

Unfortunately, I had no choice. I’d have to travel two hundred miles through the desert to some isolated oasis and find one needle of a scroll in a haystack of mummies. I didn’t see how we could accomplish this in the time we had left. Worse, I hadn’t yet told Carter my last bit of information about Zia’s village. I could just keep my mouth shut. That would be the selfish thing. It might even be the right thing, as I needed his help, and I couldn’t afford to have him distracted. But I couldn’t keep it from him. I’d invaded his mind and learned his secret name. The least I could do was be honest with him. “Carter…there’s something else. Set wanted you to know. Zia’s village was named al-Hamrah Makan.” Carter turned a bit green again. “You just forgot to mention this?” “Remember, Set is a liar,” I said. “He wasn’t being helpful. He volunteered the information because he wanted to cause chaos between us.” I could already tell I was losing him. His mind was caught in a strong current that had been pulling him along since January—the idea that he could save Zia. Now that

Shortly after the burial of the woman, I got sick with a burning fever. Late in the evening I started for Lamy Junction, the nearest store, a distance of 12 miles, to get a bottle of Carter’s little liver pills, my favorite remedy when feeling badly. I secured a room in the Harvey hotel and taking a dose of pills, went to bed for the night. Next morning I felt worse and was burning up with fever. Still

As a boy, he had worked as a carter for the 5th Duke of Portland, wheeling stone from the local quarry, used to construct a vast network of underground rooms that extended for twelve miles under the Welbeck estate. There was a ballroom that could accommodate 2,000 people and a riding school with a gallop a quarter of a mile long, lit by 8,000 jets of gas. One tunnel led to a suite of rooms covering four acres, and another to stables, cow-houses and dairies, where more than sixty people were employed.

Invincible, or A Knight’s Tale, Patch Adams, or Remember the Titans. U571, Legally Blonde, The Replacements, Mystery Alaska, Coach Carter, Erin Brockovich, Working Girl, G I Jane, Miracle, Secretariat, Braveheart, Apollo 13, Gladiator or 8 Mile … I

Shortly after this incident, Cody was ordered to ride from Lamed to Fort Hays, a distance of sixty-five miles, to advise General Sheridan that the Kiowa and Comanche were on the warpath. In his memoir, Sheridan wrote: "This intelligence required that certain orders should be carried to Fort Dodge, ninety-five miles south of Hays. This too being a particularly dangerous route-several couriers having been killed on it-it was impossible to get one of the various `Fetes,' `Jacks,

You wouldn’t believe what that would fetch. Of course the really valuable ones are the doubles, but they’re rare.” “You mean two eyes from the same person? From someone who’s lost both eyes?” Mr. Carter nodded. “I’ve got three pairs and they’re worth more than the rest put together.” He put out a hand toward a blue velvet box, then changed his mind. The doubles were too valuable to show a child. “I tell you,” said Mr. Carter, “if this house went up in flames, it’s my collection I’d save.” “After you’d saved your wife and the twins,” said Maia. He looked up sharply. “Eh? Yes. Yes, of course--that goes without saying. Now, what was it you wanted?” “Miss Minton wondered whether you might have a map or a chart of the country round the house. It’s just to borrow for a little while.” Mr. Carter sighed, but he got up and began to rummage in a number of drawers. “Here you are,” he said, returning with a rolled-up chart. “It covers ten square miles behind the house. Bring it back.” Maia thanked him and left. She had never seen such a sad room or such a sad hobby.

wired and had an ill-at-ease feeling and he wanted it gone. Dan knew one more way to get rid of it. He opened the chest of drawers and pulled out a few pieces from his old training kit. A pair of black shorts, and one of his running tops with the logo peeling way. He pulled them on and considered the cold outside but looking for gloves was too much aggravation. He went out, shivering in the pre-morning cold, his hands freezing in the breeze from the Thames Estuary. He ran down to the seafront, his badly aching legs easing into a running stride by the time he reached the concrete sea wall. The first hint of the fiery sun showed in the distance over the estuary mouth., a monster slowly rising from the sea. One mile down, his lungs heaving, heart thumping, Dan was finally warming up. But the angst wouldn’t let go. How far did he need to go to get rid of these demons? Running was good like that. It was like bleach for the mind. When he was three miles into the run his body stopped complaining. By now a third of the

He gave her a lopsided grin that buckled her knees. Stole her breath. Made her heart zing a hundred miles an hour. Maybe it was a good thing Caden Wallis didn't smile more often.

Another time, while on patrol with a small four-man team from my SAS squadron, out in the deserts of North Africa, we were waiting for a delayed helicopter pick-up. A 48-hour delay when you are almost out of water, in the roasting desert, can be life-threatening. We were all severely dehydrated and getting weaker fast. Every hour we would sip another small capful from the one remaining water bottle we each carried. Rationed carefully, methodically. To make matters worse, I had diarrhea, which was causing me to dehydrate even faster. We finally got the call-up that our extraction would be at dawn the next day, some 20 miles away. We saddled up during the night and started to move across the desert, weighed down by kit and fatigue. I was soon struggling. Every footstep was a monumental effort of will as we shuffled across the mountains. My sergeant, an incredible bear of a man called Chris Carter (who was tragically killed in Afghanistan; a hero to all who had served with him), could see this. He stopped the patrol, came to me, and insisted I drink the last remaining capful from his own bottle. No fuss, no show, he just made me drink it. It was the kindness, not the actual water itself, that gave me the strength to keep going when I had nothing left inside me. Kindness inspires us, it motivates us, and creates a strong, tight team: honest, supporting, empowering. No ego. No bravado or show. Simple goodness. It is the very heart of a great man, and I have never forgotten that single act that night in the desert. The thing about kindness is that it costs the giver very little but can mean the world to the receiver. So don’t underestimate the power you have to change lives and encourage others to be better. It doesn’t take much but it requires us to value kindness as a quality to aspire to above almost everything else. You want to be a great adventurer and expedition member in life and in the mountains? It is simple: be kind.