O'sullivan Quotes

If you are different from the rest of the flock, they bite you

Gods can screw anything and anybody. For reference, see history. Atticus O'Sullivan

Do Angels have assholes?" Atticus O'Sullivan - Hexed

It's so strange that the more successful you become, the more people want to give you things. And the more you can afford, the more people want to give you things for nothing. It doesn't seem right.

TOGETHER we stand, TOGETHER we fall, TOGETHER we win, and winners take ALL. -Temple College Volleyball Team

I remember a time where Trolls were a fictitious monster from fairy tales, not arseholes on the internet looking for attention.

She knew that she must sit quietly and patiently and, like her beloved butterflies, eventually he would come to rest.

I just want to live for the moment. Tomorrow's not important, next month is not important, what's happened in the past is not important. That is my journey.

Sometimes, the small victories are the most important.

He was gorgeous, sexy, compelling. But he was lethal. Deadly. Frightening.

That's the famous vampire Helgarson you're riding with, isn't it? Is he fond of lattes?" "I don't know." I looked over at Leif, who was grinning-he was hearing both sides of the conversation, of course-and said, "Malina wants to know if you like lattes, and I want to know if you're famous." "No to both," he said, as we screamed onto the 202 on-ramp. "Sorry, Malina," I said to the phone. "He's not famous." "Perhaps it would be better to call infamous. It is irrelevant at this point. What is relevant is that my sisters and I are not great warriors. Were the odds even and they did not cheat with modern weapons, I would say, yes, we could walk in and win a magical battle against most opponents. But we are outnumbered more than three to one." "How many are there?" "Twenty-two. Some of them have firearms, but they are not great warriors either. And while they may be expecting you, Mr. O'Sullivan, they will not be expecting Mr. Helgarson to get involved. I imagine the two of you together will be quite formidable." "She's complimenting our martial prowess, Leif," I said to him. "I feel more manly already," He said. The short distance on the 202 was already covered and we were merging onto the southbound 101. "Hey, Malina, tell me how much you want to see us play with our swords.

People look for explanations for changes in their bodies, something to account for every unpleasant feeling. There is an unwillingness to accept behavioural or emotional factors, or the effects of aging, as an explanation.

The best government is that which governs least.

John O’Sullivan has forcefully argued that the simultaneous presence in the highest offices of Reagan, Thatcher and Pope John Paul II was the cause of the Soviet collapse.

So, all in all, the whore's drawers are back up, and with any luck they'll stay that way.

What then is prayer? Prayer is nothing else than talking to God, conversing with God Himself.

I got really bored, so I decided to pick a theme song! Something appropriate. And naturally, it should be something from Lewis’s godawful seventies collection. It wouldn’t be right any other way. There are plenty of great candidates: “Life on Mars?” by David Bowie, “Rocket Man” by Elton John, “Alone Again (Naturally)” by Gilbert O’Sullivan. But I settled on “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees.

Says O'Sullivan to me, "Mr. Fay, I'll have a word wid yeh?" "Certainly," says I; "what can I do for you?" "Sell me your sea- boots, Mr. Fay," says O'Sullivan, polite as can be. "But what will you be wantin' of them?" says I. "'Twill be a great favour," says O'Sullivan. "But it's my only pair," says I; "and you have a pair of your own," says I. "Mr. Fay, I'll be needin' me own in bad weather," says O'Sullivan. "Besides," says I, "you have no money." "I'll pay for them when we pay off in Seattle," says O'Sullivan. "I'll not do it," says I; "besides, you're not tellin' me what you'll be doin' with them." "But I will tell yeh," says O'Sullivan; "I'm wantin' to throw 'em over the side." And with that I turns to walk away, but O'Sullivan says, very polite and seducin'-like, still a-stroppin' the razor, "Mr. Fay," says he, "will you kindly step this way an' have your throat cut?" And with that I knew my life was in danger, and I have come to make report to you, sir, that the man is a violent lunatic.

Her phone beeps and she pulls it out again. She frowns. I give her a side-eye. “Everything all right?” She scrolls through her email. “Earth to Gail?” Nothing. “Gail Morgan O’Sullivan.” “What? Oh!” She shoves her phone into her back pocket. “Sorry, sorry. Do you ever feel like you’re forgetting something?” “My underwear. All the time,” I say with dead seriousness. “Sometimes I give myself a wedgie just to make sure I have them on.

A relieved Colonel O’Sullivan found himself at last surrounded by his fellow countrymen; next destination: his beloved U.S. of A.

The idea of Pope St. Pius X was the same when he granted a plenary indulgence at the hour of death to those who say at least after one Holy Communion the following prayer: "Eternal Father, from this day forward, I accept with a joyful and resigned heart the death it will please You to send me, with all its pains and sufferings.

All my patients are individuals with their own story to tell, their own set of problems and their own solution. Even where the symptoms of their distress are very similar, the roads that bring them to me are not. Each of them teaches me something important, just as each new patient I meet reminds me that there is always more to learn.

When I look into my future, what I wish for isn't a job or a title or anything like that. I'm not Mandy, who wants everyone to admire and love her. For me, it would be enough to have one person. Someone who looks into my eyes and really sees me. To have that, that one person and this whole big ocean to explore and take care of, to keep for those who come after me. That would be enough for me.

A spirit of satirical frivolity so dominated Britain in the 1960s that one critic feared the country "would sink giggling into the sea.

I'm going to fuck the fear turkey.

All shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well. Julian of Norwich

feet were designed to feel the world beneath them. To be connected.

Witches’ Warts! Looks like I’m going to have to break witch law again.

I’ve tried a number of religions and gurus in my time, including Buddhism, but ultimately they didn’t do as much for my peace of mind as snooker.

Physical manifestations of unhappiness are something we all experience; it's not a personality flaw or a sign of weakness, it's a part of life.

People stop looking for answers when they find one they can relate to.

I want to know her. Not just her body, but the secrets those blue eyes hide. Her spirit, her dreams, her fears. I want to unravel the mystery of Caitlin O’Sullivan.

Praise can be a fuel of survival in the education system for kids like me.

Father O’Sullivan.

Did you never hear how the life of a man is divided? Twenty years a-growing, twenty years in blossom, twenty years a-stooping, and twenty years declining.

Twenty years a-growing, twenty years in bloom, twenty years a-stooping, and twenty years declining.

the Lisbon girls “Alone Again, Naturally,” Gilbert O’Sullivan us “You’ve Got a Friend,” James Taylor the Lisbon girls “Where Do the Children Play?,” Cat Stevens us “Dear Prudence,” The Beatles

John O’Sullivan has forcefully argued that the simultaneous presence in the highest offices of Reagan, Thatcher and Pope John Paul II was the cause of the Soviet collapse.3 And my own experience confirms this.

Our bodies are biologically programmed to react to essential oil constituents, which interact with a variety of receptor sites, neurochemicals and enzymes, giving them a potential for therapeutic activity.” Robert Tisserand   “Essential

A champion thinks: ‘That’s going in the hole, pot the blue and get on to the pink; that’s the shot.’ Embrace the moment, I told myself. This is what top sport is about, this is how you separate yourself from the pack. You grab these opportunities, and commit.

Even though I was still running well, I didn’t feel good in myself. It’s funny: to the outside world I looked in great nick – healthy, trim, fit. Everybody was saying, you’re looking well, but I was in pieces. I wasn’t eating my way out of depression, but I was running my way out of my depression. But even the running didn’t always do the trick.

For me so far, falling in love has been nothing like fishing. It is more like making music. Trying to find a melody and matching the words, and then when they're together, getting lost in it. Carried away. You carry it in your body so that sometimes it bursts out of you and other times it's quiet and so unconscious that you're humming and you don't even notice it.

Shall we expect some transatlantic military giant, to step the Ocean, and crush us at a blow? Never!-All the armies of Europe, Asia, and Africa combined, with all the treasure of the earth (our own excepted) in their military chest; with a Buonaparte for a commander, could not by force, take a drink from the Ohio, or make a track on the Blue Ridge, in a trial of a thousand years," Abraham Lincoln proclaimed in 1837, two years before O'Sullivan's manifesto. "At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time or die by suicide.

With all my demons, and my mum away, and dad away, and the drink and drugs, the kids, the maintenance, the keeping fit, the obsessions, the depressions, in between all that I’ve managed to win four world titles, four UKs and four Masters. I don’t know how. I’ve won 24 ranking events, 10 Premier Leagues, more than 50 tournaments altogether. It’s not bad going for such a fuck-up!

To try is to risk failure. But risks need to be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing. The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing and is nothing. They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they cannot learn, feel change, grow, love and live. Chained by their certitudes, they are a slave; they have forfeited their freedom. Only a person who risks is free. —Leo Buscaglia

Drugs and oils work in opposite ways. Drugs toxify. Oils detoxify. Drugs clog and confuse receptor sites. Oils clean receptor sites. Drugs depress the immune system. Oils strengthen the immune system. Antibiotics attack bacteria indiscriminately, killing both the good and the bad. Oils attack only the harmful bacteria, allowing our body’s friendly flora to flourish.” David Stewart, Ph.D., R.A., The Chemistry of Essential Oils, 2005

When I stopped taking drugs I got really depressed. I was struggling with life. It’s a bit chicken and egg. I was depressed because I’d stopped drinking and taking drugs, but I only drank and took drugs in the first place because I was depressed. Ultimately I’d rather be clean and depressed than on drugs and depressed. At least there’s a way out, and you’re reliant on your natural feelings – if you’re down you really are down; if you’re up, you are genuinely up.

Those who struggle with the diagnosis may seek the opinion of doctor after doctor in the hope of finding a different explanation — and validation of their suffering. Repeatedly normal test results begin to seem a disappointment, so desperate is the patient’s search for another answer. Some find themselves pushed into a corner where they accept the role of the undiagnosed, someone who cannot be helped, because anything is better than the humiliation of a psychological disorder. Society is judgmental about psychological illness and patients know that.

First Law” coined by British political pundit John O’Sullivan: “All organizations that are not explicitly right-wing will over time become left-wing.” Hebrews 2:1 warns of a similar tendency when it comes to theological matters: “Therefore, we must give the more earnest heed to the things we have heard, lest we drift away.” Nothing in the world comes so naturally to a Christian as putting away his oars of resistance and floating off on the cultural tides. This is especially true when you know that the firm ground of Scripture you’re standing on is increasingly becoming a deserted island.

It would be easy, but misleading, to see the rise of terrorism expertise as simply a response to an increase in political violence. This simplistic empirical approach neglects the reflexive relationship between experts and their objects of knowledge. Others have suggested that we view terrorism expertise as a product of political propaganda by governments seeking to demonize their enemies and draw attention away from their own use of violence. But this “critical” approach (see, for example, Chomsky 2001; Herman and O’Sullivan 1989), which argues that terrorism experts constitute an “industry,” funded and organized by the state and other elite interests, neglects the agency and interests of the experts themselves, and the ways in which these interests may either harmonize or clash with those of the state, the media, and the “terrorists” themselves.

Mr. Melville is evidently trying to ascertain how far the public will consent to be imposed upon. He is gauging, at once, our gullibilty and our patience. Having written one or two passable extravagancies, he has considered himself privileged to produce as many more as he pleases, increasingly exaggerated and increasingly dull…. In bombast, in caricature, in rhetorical artifice — generally as clumsy as it is ineffectual — and in low attempts at humor, each one of his volumes has been an advance among its predecessors…. Mr. Melville never writes naturally. His sentiment is forced, his wit is forced, and his enthusiasm is forced. And in his attempts to display to the utmost extent his powers of “fine writing,” he has succeeded, we think, beyond his most sanguine expectations… We have no intention of quoting any passages just now from Moby-Dick. The London journals, we understand, “have bestowed upon the work many flattering notices,” and we should be loth to combat such high authority. But if there are any of our readers who wish to find examples of bad rhetoric, involved syntax, stilted sentiment and incoherent English, we will take the liberty of recommending to them this precious volume of Mr. Melville’s.

Western medicine’s love of drawing people into diagnostic categories and applying disease names to small differences and minor bodily changes is not specific to functional disorders – it is a general trend. Pre-diabetes, polycystic ovaries, some cancers and many more conditions have all been subject to the problem of over-inclusive diagnosis. My biggest concern in this regard is the degree to which many people are wholly unaware of the subjective nature of the medical classification of disease. If a person is told they have this or that disorder, they assume it must be right. The Latin names we give to things and the shiny scanning machines make it look as if there is more authority than actually exists. To a certain extent, Sienna pursued each diagnosis she was given, but other people have diagnoses thrust upon them, having no idea that there might be anything controversial about it – and having no idea that they have a choice. Western medicine’s hold on people, and its sense of being systematic and accurate, makes it a powerful force in the transmission of cultural concepts of what constitutes wellness or ill health. But Western medicine is just as enslaved to fads and trends as any other tradition of medicine.

We are the nation of human progress, and who will, what can, set limits to our onward march?

Have a plan, challenge yourself, play hard, have fun, be bold, make friends, always learn, love what you do, and just do it.

Pinned to the left-hand wall opposite the construction schedule was another butcher-block-size sheet almost identical in form, except this one, O’Sullivan said, was called a “submittal schedule.” It was also a checklist, but it didn’t specify construction tasks; it specified communication tasks. For the way the project managers dealt with the unexpected and the uncertain was by making sure the experts spoke to one another—on X date regarding Y process. The experts could make their individual judgments, but they had to do so as part of a team that took one another’s concerns into account, discussed unplanned developments, and agreed on the way forward. While no one could anticipate all the problems, they could foresee where and when they might occur. The checklist therefore detailed who had to talk to whom, by which date, and about what aspect of construction—who had to share (or “submit”) particular kinds of information before the next steps could proceed.

The philosophy is that you push the power of decision making out to the periphery and away from the center. You give people the room to adapt, based on their experience and expertise. All you ask is that they talk to one another and take responsibility. That is what works. The strategy is unexpectedly democratic, and it has become standard nowadays, O’Sullivan told me, even in building inspections. The inspectors do not recompute the wind-force calculations or decide whether the joints in a given building should be bolted or welded, he said. Determining whether a structure like Russia Wharf or my hospital’s new wing is built to code and fit for occupancy involves more knowledge and complexity than any one inspector could possibly have.

I’m proud that I’m not someone who says ‘I can’t do that’. I’m someone who says ‘I won’t know until I try’.

I hope that more women learn to believe in themselves, because when we dig deep it’s amazing what lies inside.

I’m proud that I’m not someone who says, ‘I can’t do that.' I’m someone who says, ‘I won’t know until I try.

Land was more optimistic, "As long as there are some who hang on to their generations and traditions like the Butterfields do here there is an example if someone wants to stand up and show what we have lost. 

O’Sullivan immediately proposed that the army form into companies of fifty men each, commanded by a captain supported by one lieutenant and four sergeants. But, sadly, this ‘cou’d not be followed, they must go by tribes ; such a chife of a tribe had sixty men, another thirty, another twenty, more or lesse ; they wou’d not mix nor seperat, & wou’d have double officers, [that] is two Captns, & two Lts, to each Company, strong or weak. That’, O’Sullivan pithily observed, ‘was uselesse.’ This irregular, clan-focused arrangement was both a strength and a weakness of this embryonic army.

At length, one evening towards the end of March, the mental clearness of Orange somewhat revived, and he felt himself compelled to get up and put on his clothes. The nurse, thinking that the patient was resting quietly, and fearing the shine of the lamp might distress him, had turned it low and gone away for a little: so it was without interruption, although reeling from giddiness, and scorched with fever, that Rupert groped about till he found some garments, and his evening suit. Clad in these, and throwing a cloak over his shoulders, he went downstairs. Those whom he met, that recognized him, looked at him wonderingly and with a vague dread; but he appeared to have his understanding as well as they, and so he passed through the hall without being stopped; and going into the bar, he called for brandy. The bar-tender, to whom he was known, exclaimed in astonishment; but he got no reply from Orange, who, pouring himself out a large quantity of the fiery liquor found it colder than the coldest iced water in his burning frame. When he had taken the brandy, he went into the street. It was a bleak seasonable night, and a bitter frost-rain was falling: but Orange went through it, as if the bitter weather was a not unwelcome coolness, although he shuddered in an ague-fit. As he stood on the corner of Twenty-third Street, his cloak thrown open, the sleet sowing down on his shirt, and the slush which covered his ankles soaking through his thin shoes, a member of his club came by and spoke to him. "Why, good God! Orange, you don't mean to say you're out on a night like this! You must be much better--eh?" he broke off, for Orange had given him a grey look, with eyes in which there was no speculation; and the man hurried away scared and rather aghast. "These poet chaps are always queer fishes," he muttered uneasily, as he turned into the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Of the events of terror and horror which happened on that awful night, when a human soul was paying the price of an astonishing violation of the order of the universe, no man shall ever tell. Blurred, hideous, and enormous visions of dives, of hells where the worst scum of the town consorted, of a man who spat on him, of a woman who struck him across the face with her umbrella, calling him the foulest of names--visions such as these, and more hateful than these, presented themselves to Orange, when he found himself, at three o'clock in the morning, standing under a lamp-post in that strange district of New York called "The Village." ("The Bargain Of Rupert Orange")

Yesterday afternoon I took from amongst my books a novel of Rupert Orange, and as I turned over the leaves, I fell to pondering how difficult it is to obtain any of his works to-day, while but a few years ago all the world was reading them; and to lose myself in amaze at our former rapturous and enthusiastic admiration of his literary art, his wit, his pathos. For in truth his art is a very tawdry art to my present liking; his wit is rather stale, his pathos a little vulgar. And the charm has likewise gone out of his poetry: even his 'Chaunt of the Storm-Witch,' which we were used to think so melodious and sonorous, now fails to please. To explain the precise effect which his poetry has upon me now, I am forced to resort to a somewhat unhappy figure; I am forced to say that his poetry has an effect on me like sifted ashes! I cannot in the least explain this figure; and if it fails to convey any idea to the reader, I am afraid the failure must be set down to my clumsy writing. And yet what praise we all bestowed on these works of Rupert Orange! How eagerly we watched for them to appear; how we prized them; with what zeal we studied the newspapers for details of his interesting and successful life! ("The Bargain of Rupert Orange")

Amid this social intercourse, however, he avoided sedulously a meeting with Mrs. Annice; he had decided not to see her for a while. Indeed, it was not till an evening late in February, after dinner, that he took a cab to her house near Washington Square. He found her at home, and had not waited a minute before she came into the room. She was a tall woman, and wonderfully handsome by gaslight; but she had that tiresome habit, which many women have, of talking intensely--in italics, as it were: a habit found generally in women ill brought up-women without control of their feelings, or command of the expression of them. ("The Bargain of Rupert Orange")

5th May 2016 The first final day 10.39 p.m. –March train station, England Eight minutes. Chris looked up at the analogue dials of the train station clock, its ticking unperturbed by what was about to happen. It read ten thirty-nine. He stood and watched the seconds pass by slowly. Eight minutes, that was all he had to wait. Looking around the station he noted how dilapidated it was. The benches that were once sky blue were now covered with an assortment of profanities –as were the walls behind them. Pictures of male genitals and insults to people’s mothers were lit by a dull orange light in the roof of the old station and the flickering of a half-empty vending machine. The old Chris might have had an opinion about it. Not now. Not anymore. Instead, reading the walls

appearing through the vegetation and driving into his uncle with its tusks, or through him. The risk sent his heart pounding. There was speed, everything was accelerated. The unpredictable movement of Daygo seemed more pronounced, more full of life. He ran, aware of its wonder as life happened and bubbled and changed all around him. He gloried in the privilege to be there, to witness it, to be aware of it all unfolding before his eyes, within his body, pounding in his ears, whishing through his nose and mouth; he could smell the forest sharply, the scene changing, moving, assaulting his nostrils. He imagined himself high up above, looking down at all the frantic activity happening below in the forest and trees, up and down the mountain. He wondered if such

The best coaches have a growth mindset and know how to motivate, communicate, and inspire their athletes to achieve more than they ever would on their own. They instill a love of the game, a passion for achievement, and model the character and values that they preach to their athletes. They know when a kid needs a hug and when he needs a metaphoric kick in the rear. All high performers can point to various coaches as major contributors in their ultimate success, and most lifelong athletes can point to a coach who taught them to love sport and to be active for life.

Winning is ephemeral and success is perishable, but true excellence is resilient and enduring.

Physical, Mental, Cognitive, and Emotional Development: LTAD is a holistic approach to development, and all training, competition, and recovery must take into account not only the physical component but the mental, emotional, and cognitive development of the athlete.

Winning coaches demand a quest for excellence rather than short-term successes. But excellence requires patience, and many parents and coaches don’t have the patience to achieve excellence.

It has been proven time and again that a 5:1 ratio of positive to negative comments provides children with the best education and motivation to be successful. The coach that is constantly pointing out the negative, and never providing praise when it has been earned, is dangerous for your child and will lead to their emotional breakdown.

Perhaps most importantly, through sports we can demonstrate to our kids that life is definitely not fair, often unjust, and quite often may end in failure, but that is fine. It is how we handle this adversity that matters most.

She said she was going to do it. She said it was the only way she would ever be free.

things you do are the things you do. Nothing can change the facts. Others might lie or distort those things, but they never go away. Your choices, your actions are forever. You leave a footprint that can be followed if someone is determined to look closely enough.

A lie told often enough becomes the truth. —Vladimir Lenin

National identity may be the most intractable of the Left’s difficulties. Leftists of all kinds are extremely reluctant to accept that culture, language, and a shared history are vital supports for national community. To explain what holds the nation together, they offer two answers: liberal institutions and social-democratic transfer payments.

Great coaches instinctively know that every player responds differently to praise and to criticism, and they know what to dole out and when to dole it out. Bad coaches know only what worked for them as players and cannot understand why everyone does not respond the way they did.

If your child is going to be a high performer, he needs control over his athletic experience. The sport must be his choice, his performance must be based upon his efforts and motivation, and his development must be a result of his failures and successes. As a result, the outcome of his achievement belongs to him and him alone.

There was nothing more satisfying than taking all the jumbled pieces and putting them together one by one to recreate the picture—the story—of the crime in question.

The most powerful leadership tool we all have is our own example. —John Wooden

Competence: refining the technical, tactical, and sport-specific performance elements

Confidence: developing an athlete’s self-belief and self-worth, as well as their resilience and mental toughness

Connection: building social bonds between teammates, coaches, and support staff

Character: developing the moral character of athletes—items such as empathy, respect, and integrity—so that athletes are also good role models

Don’t React. Respond!

Head Coach Urban Meyer lays out a simple equation: E + R = O (Event plus Response equals Outcome).

Life was quite often like business. Even when your journey veered off-track, you simply recalculated and adjusted your trajectory

I hit a low place,” she began. “Perhaps it was the idea that fifty was looming. I don’t know, but I felt off. Out of sync with myself.

last person besides her husband to see

up at that, and he was sure he

Yes.” A smart witness never said more than necessary to answer a question. It was the first rule defense lawyers taught their clients. It was also the principal focus of an ADA when questioning a witness for the defense—make them say more than they intended.

Six of one, half a dozen of the other,

What now, Judith O'Sullivan? Where to now?

As eager American settlers poured into the Mexican territory of Texas, editor John L. O’Sullivan wrote that “it is our manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by Providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions.” The populace was soon persuaded that it was America’s “manifest destiny” not only to inhabit Texas, but to fill up the entire continent, from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic shore.

. . . my father had been brutal on me, but with him out of my life I had in turn become tough on myself. I knew enough about the game to be a pro but had never learned to have fun at it.

Programs written in dynamically typed languages require large suites of tests to give some assurance that simple type errors cannot occur.

Whatever our function does, it will need to have the type String -> String; in other words, it must accept a string and return a string.

Pat and Isabel O’Sullivan walked along the station platform in a sedate manner, as befitted the head girls of St Clare’s. A giggling group of second formers fell silent as they approached, looking at the twins in awe. ‘They look nice,’ whispered one new girl to her neighbour. ‘Who are they?’ ‘Our head girls – the O’Sullivan twins. And they are nice – very nice.’ The twins heard and shared a secret smile, which held more than a touch of pride. ‘Just think of it, Pat. You and I, head girls of St Clare’s,’ said Isabel. ‘I still expect to wake up and find out it was all a dream.’ ‘More like a dream come true,’ said Pat happily. ‘And Mummy and Daddy were almost as pleased for us as we were for ourselves.

Eternal Father, from this day forward, I accept with a joyful and resigned heart the death it will please You to send me, with all its pains and sufferings.

That Canadian team had a bunch of guys who are in the 1 percent: Crosby, Getzlaf, Perry, Carter, Richards and Weber - guys who would win Olympic gold and make $8 and $10 million a season down the line. Though a player might be in that 1 percent, no team is, not as a group.