Orphan X Quotes

A guy can love a million women. But a man, a man loves one woman a million ways.

Respect for women is essential,” Jack tells him. “Women’s rights and economic development within a country are highly correlated. Treating women properly is not just a moral position—which it is—or an American value—which it is. It’s a strategic imperative, and you will always, always lead by example in this regard.

Pursue what is meaningful, not what is expedient.

How you do anything is how you do everything

Compare yourself to who you were yesterday, not to who someone else is today.

There is no emotion more useless than self-pity. Evan

Every time I consider myself an adult, I think back five years to when I also thought of myself as an adult. And I’m aghast at how staggeringly blind I was. Maybe what I hold to be true right now will seem just as ignorant when I reflect back on it years from now.

Next time, he thinks. The two best words in the English language.

I'm not saying it's easy. I'm saying it's worth doing. Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

Always respect life. Then you'll value yours. The hard part isn't turning you into a killer. The hard part is keeping you human.

Look at me closely. Ask yourself: Do I look scared?

Then he is a monster!" the Prince crowed, "and I must slay him at once. The Formula works!" "Your Formula must result in a great deal of fighting," I mused. "Oh, yes, when applied correctly mighty and noble battles result! Of course I always win—the value of Prince X is a constant. It cannot be lesser than that of Monster Y—this is the Moral Superiority Hypothesis made famous five hundred years ago by my ancestor Ethelred, the Mathematician-King. We have never seen his equal, in all these centuries.

NEXT TIME.” The two best words in the English language. Freedom and possibility. Progress, not perfection. Just do something a little bit better than the last go-round and your place in the world would get a little bit clearer.

Women’s rights and economic development within a country are highly correlated.

If you have to be hit over the head to learn something about yourself, you’ll be someone who thinks that people only learn if you hit them over the head.

People talk about starting over,’ he said. ‘But you can’t start over. All you can do is change direction.

How you do anything is how you do everything.

Remember what Confucius say: ‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.

Evan sits on the floor, hard; the collective wisdom of four cultures distilled into a single ass kicking.

Envision someone else, someone better than you. Stronger. Smarter. Tougher. Then do what that guy would do.

If you don’t know what to do, do nothing.

Maybe that’s all growing up is. Knowing in real time that you don’t know anything.

Think this through,” Evan said. “Do I seem like a guy who doesn’t know what he’s doing?

I’ll tell you this: Parenting ain’t for sissies.

When you get stuck, remember that you can deal with physical issues intellectually and intellectual issues emotionally. You can work out emotional issues psychologically and psychological issues spiritually. Those are the spokes of the wheel—one breaks, you can use another to fix it.

To destroy something you cannot be is to embrace your darkest heart, to yield to an ungodly desire. It is to be hijacked by what you aren’t rather than nourished by what you are. Because what you are is nothing.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been out in the cold, nose up to the glass, looking in. I may not get to come inside, Jack. But I’m sure as hell not gonna let the wolves in at everyone else. No. That’s one thing I’m good for.

Anticipation of pain leads to fear, and fear amplifies pain,” he says. “Expectation of relief from pain increases the opioids in the brain, makes the hurting stop. How your mind reacts to pain determines how much pain you actually feel.

She was every Cora she'd ever been: Cora X, Cora Kaufmann, Cora Carlisle. She was an orphan on a roof, a lucky girl on a train, a dearly loved daughter by chance. She was a blushing bride of seventeen, a sad and stoic wife, a loving mother, an embittered chaperone, and a daughter pushed away. She was a lover and a lewd cohabitator, a liar and a cherished friend, and aunt and a kindly grandmother, a champion of the fallen, and a late-in-coming fighter for reason over fear. Even in those final hours, quiet and rocking, arriving and departing, she knew who she was.

battle that rages inside every person.’ ‘The two wolves.’ ‘That’s right. One wolf is anger and fear and paranoia and cruelty. The other is kindness, humility, compassion, serenity. And the boy asks his grandfather, “Which wolf wins?” You remember the answer?’ ‘ “The one you feed.” ’ ‘That’s right.

I usually find,” Evan said, “that people will show you how they want to be treated if you pay attention.

His training had consisted of learning a little bit about everything from people who knew everything about something.

Evan needed to get food, and then he had people to kill.

be one thing at a time, one thing and one thing only.

He could handle chaos in the world as long as there was order at home.

If you have to ask for respect, you’re not gonna get it.

Dogs are always who they are. Why can’t people just be dogs?” Evan didn’t speak for a moment. “Because we’re not good enough.

Another Jackism: When they come to kill you, you don’t get to tell them you aren’t ready.

Most husbands seek to kill their wives’ loves so we’ll love only them. They are insecure little boys.

A diamond’s just a lump of coal that knows how to deal with pressure.

And I may not have the standing to tell you this, but I want you to know I’m proud of you. I see you, and I’m proud of you.

The Unofficial Eleventh Commandment: Don’t fall in love with Plan A.

You can’t help people more than they want to help themselves.

The Fourth (Commandment) wasn't working, so he dug the the Fifth: If you don't know what to do, do nothing. There was no situation that could not be made worse.

Act like the person you want to be.’” It was one of Jack’s favorite quotations; just thinking of him put a rasp in Evan’s voice. “If we want to get through whatever’s coming, we’re gonna have to face it head-on.

That’s right. One wolf is anger and fear and paranoia and cruelty. The other is kindness, humility, compassion, serenity. And the boy asks his grandfather, ‘Which wolf wins?’ You remember the answer?” “‘The one you feed.

People are messy. Relationships aren’t linear. They knock you on your ass. Make you detour, reverse, change focus. You can’t be perfect unless you’re alone, and then guess what? You’re alone. So you’re still not perfect.

You are safe. You are loved.’” Her eyes glimmered. “Can you imagine?” Walking behind Jack in the woods, placing his feet in Jack’s footprints. “Yes,” Evan said. “Maybe that’s all anyone needs,” Joey said. “One person who feels that way about you. To keep you human.

Comedy is tragedy plus x, with x being an amount of time defined by the person experiencing the tragedy. Some people need less time than others. I joked about Dad’s death as it was happening. But that gave some friends the impression they could join in . No . My dad, my jokes. A Facebook friend posted one day after Dad died: “Welcome to the Dead Dad Club.” I hated him instantly. He was an Early Orphan. I scrolled through his profile pictures, I saw smiles . Life had gone on for him. I didn’t want to be in his stupid club, I didn’t want to read his wry asides.

It has nothing to do with rough or gentle. Privileged or broke, everyone has their own path to the light. Sometimes those of us who came up hard are forced to see what actually matters. If we survive, that is. The world doesn’t allow us not to see. We are forced into understanding, into grace. It’s either that or prison, or drugs, or the cold, hard earth.

That’s just the circus roaring its insanity at the periphery.” “It’s not insanity. It’s real.” “What is? Your fear? Resentment? Grief? Insecurity?” Finally the left side of Jack’s mouth curls up a millimeter or two. “Your rage.” “Yes. Sure. All of that.” “Of course they’re real. However. When they’re roaring? They are insane. They are discordant. They are running you instead of your running them.” “So what am I supposed to do?” “Invite them in, one at a time. Have each one pull up a stool. Listen to what it has to say. Whether it’s shrilling or plucking or thundering away. Learn its timbre, its pitch, its intensity. Then assign it its place in the pit below you. Each one. Grief, fear, rage. Set the orchestra in order a section at a time.

But she was barely listening. “There’s this newish thing from Amazon? Called an AMI—an Amazon Machine Image. Basically it runs a snapshot of an operating system. There are hundreds of them, loaded up and ready to run.” Evan said, “Um.” “Virtual machines,” she explained, with a not-insubstantial trace of irritation. “Okay.” “But the good thing with virtual machines? You hit a button and you have two of them. Or ten thousand. In data centers all over the world. Here—look—I’m replicating them now, requesting that they’re geographically dispersed with guaranteed availability.” He looked but could not keep up with the speed at which things were happening on the screen. Despite his well-above-average hacking skills, he felt like a beginning skier atop a black-diamond run. She was still talking. “We upload all the encrypted data from the laptop to the cloud first, right? Like you were explaining poorly and condescendingly to me back at the motel.” “In hindsight—” “And we spread the job out among all of them. Get Hashkiller whaling away, throwing all these password combinations at it. Then who cares if we get locked out after three wrong password attempts? We just go to the next virtual machine. And the one after that.” “How do you have the hardware to handle all that?” She finally paused, blowing a glossy curl out of her eyes. “That’s what I’m telling you, X. You don’t buy hardware anymore. You rent cycles in the cloud. And the second we’re done, we kill the virtual machines and there’s not a single trace of what we did.” She lifted her hands like a low-rent spiritual guru. “It’s all around and nowhere at the same time.” A sly grin. “Like you.

The last ounce of what he had to give was the ounce that had saved his life.

koan,

Oh, yes, when applied correctly mighty and noble battles result! Of course I always win—the value of Prince X is a constant. It cannot be lesser than that of Monster Y—this is the Moral Superiority Hypothesis made famous five hundred years ago by my ancestor Ethelred, the Mathematician-King. We have never seen his equal, in all these centuries.

Jack had taught him this along with so much else. How to find peace. How to embody stillness. How to punch an eskrima dagger between the fourth and fifth ribs, angling up at the heart.

Epogen,

He was Chester the Molester. A rich businessman looking to adopt. A dealer in human organs on the black market.

His pleasures now were simple. Using his skills to help those not merely in need but also worthy. And sipping sparkling water alfresco on a glorious California night.

What we resist pursues us. What we accept transforms us.

Women are fucking Swiss Army knives. Throw anything at them and they figure out which part of them to use to fix it, care for it, make it better. They can hear if a baby’s cough is just a cough, can smell if something’s burning in the next room. They can see when our arrogance is serving us. And point out when it’s not.

In fact, South Texas and Alaska might be the last places in the country where law enforcement would want to roll up on a property and have a look-see.

You are good at this. Most men are not. Or at least that’s what they tell themselves until they believe it. And so they can use incompetence to get out of work.

Maybe the only way to get anywhere worth being is to pick up the heaviest thing you can carry. And carry it.

she stepped back into a fighting posture, hands raised, jaw set. The man in the middle reached inside his loose-fitting jacket. They swept forward. Ten yards away. Behind them a form swung down from the metal overhang and crouched on the landing to break his fall, one hand pressed to the concrete. Soundless. * * * Evan couldn’t fire his ARES. Not with Joey in the background. But that was okay. He was eager to use his hands. Joey spotted him through the gap between the advancing men. They read her eyes, the change in her stance. They turned. Three men. One pistol drawn, two on the way. Evan moved on the gun first. A jujitsu double-hand parry to a figure-four arm bar, the pleasing snap-snap of wrist and elbow breaking, and— —Jack sways in the Black Hawk, hands cuffed behind him, wind blasting his hair when— —the pistol skittered free across the tracks, the guy on his knees, his

You’re very close with your nephew.” “Yes. Sometimes there are special relationships like that in families, you know?” He did not. She continued, “Where there is no static in the line. You just get each other.

He considered. “When you come into a situation, don’t want anything. Don’t want approval. Don’t want to scare people. Don’t want anyone to like you. Don’t need to prove anything to them or make them angry. Then you can see what’s really happening.

When you’re at a wall, start climbing.

Blood in, blood out. You kill to get in. They kill you before they will ever let you leave.

ALPR is?” she asked. “Automated license-plate recognition,” Evan said, relieved to be back on familiar turf. “Police cruisers have sensors embedded in the light bars that scan the plates of all surrounding vehicles. They can swallow numbers eight lanes across on cars going in either direction up to eighty miles per hour.

He hangs out near campuses at lunch, after classes, his skateboard rat-a-tat-tatting across sidewalk cracks just barely past school-ground limits. The girls cluster and giggle, and he chooses one to peel off the herd. He tells her to snap pictures. He tells her to get a secret Facebook account, one her parents don’t know about, and upload them there. He tells her that everyone does this in high school, and he’s mostly right, but not everyone is hooked into a scheme like this. He targets Title I schools, broke girls, easily impressed, looking for a dream, a romance, a way out. Girls whose parents lack the resources to do much if they disappear. The secret Facebook page links go to Hector Contrell. The genius of it is, the girls create the sales catalog themselves.

From Contrell the links go to all sorts of men with unorthodox tastes. Austrian industrialists. Sheikhs. Three brothers in Detroit with a padlocked metal shed. Online they can peruse the merchandise discreetly and, if need be, ask for more product information—different photographic angles, specific poses. They make their selections. Given immigration confusion, gang influence, and splintered family trees, disappearances aren’t rare when you’re dealing with broke ethnic girls. They’re a renewable resource. Hector Contrell comes in the black of night, and another girl vanishes off the streets and wakes up in a stupor in Islamabad or Birmingham or São Paulo. Some of the girls are kept. Some are designated for onetime use.

One day after school, Addison’s blue eyes peer out from beneath his scraggly bangs and pick her and only her. That night she touches up her eyeliner, sheds the flat-front Dickies with the worn knees, checks the lighting. This choice, this moment, is going to be a portal to a Whole New Her. But after she uploads the selfie, nothing magical happens. Staring at the image she has released into the world, she feels an unease begin to gnaw at her. She decides to stop after the one photo. But Addison needs more; they’ve been requested from a buyer in Serbia. In a ganja haze, he catches her in the alley outside her family’s one-bedroom apartment. When his low-rent hipster charms fail him, he tells her what she’d better do. Big-shotting in the Crenshaw night, he lets fly that he works for someone who will hurt her and her family if she turns off the tap.

learning a little bit about everything from people who knew everything about something

You know what heaven would be for me now?” Evan looked down at the table. In the mound of loose puzzle pieces, he made out a bright blue eye—Johnny’s. “To see him for one minute more doing something mundane,” Deborah said. “Something I never bothered to pay attention to. Eating an apple. Picking at his dirty fingernails. To watch him watching TV. That’s all heaven is. It was right there, every instant of my life before. And I couldn’t see it.

Mason had that made,” Deborah said of the puzzle. “One of those custom ones. He wanted Ruby to be able to put the family back together again. Thought it would be … hmm, therapeutic. But it just sits there. And sits there.

Our beliefs have no time to age.

May we all live up to his example; may we all try to be the one who hears a new

astute.

One hears only those questions for which one is able to find answers. —Nietzsche

Because you can’t take a breath from the past. And you can’t take a breath from the future.

Recent experience had taught him the two were intertwined: suffering and salvation.

I was taught that the point of education is to learn how much you don’t know.

Wyoming’s got the strongest privacy laws in the country, basically zero regulatory oversight. Hide a trust inside a tangle of private companies with concealed ownership and you’re invisible. Even Russians oligarchs and Argentine mobsters have caught on.

Where did it all go wrong?' Heiner thought vacantly. At first, it was just a feeling of infatuation. All he wanted was to touch her just once. He dared not want her. So, with persistence, he became the marquis' dog. To gain a higher position, to gain more power, to become a "suitable" person. To get a little closer to her. Because there was no way she would pay attention to a soldier who was an orphan and all he knew was to kill people... Heiner looked down at his hand on the window pane. He could still smell the blood that had long since been washed away. He tightened his fists. I know that I am a dirtier and lower human being than you if I am to blame for wrongdoing. I know that I am more of a sinner, having killed countless people and sent my colleagues to their deaths. He didn't want to admit it. He wanted to put all the blame on her. You are so happy being noble while I rolled through the mud to bring you peace. You have no idea whose blood was shed and whose lives were sacrificed. The hardest and saddest thing in your life is not improving your piano skills, that's all. So... I hated you for it. A wave of every dirty, inferior emotion flooded his chest. Heiner's body slowly collapsed. She alone was the reason he struggled so much, but in the end, it turned out like this. Heiner cradled his head in his hands. His breath came in gulps. He eventually couldn't hold it in and let it out. The man crouched in the corner sobbed quietly. From far away, the sound of a piano carried on the wind. He cried for a very long time.

These days people looked at him like they didn’t want him to rub off on them. He couldn’t blame them. He didn’t want to rub off on himself. Oh, well. As his old man said, A whole lotta folks do better with worse.

men

refused.” “Two of us were assigned to kill you that summer. It was the first

We live in a celebrity culture now. Or a wannabe-celebrity culture. The name of the game is visibility. If you aren’t tweeted, liked, YouTubed, or Instagrammed, you don’t exist.

sclera

I've never been out four days.” "You’ve never been dead before.

You think everything is my fault. Women have breast cancer all the time. So maybe you have cancer, that’s terrible, sure. But what about me? It was probably giving all those X-rays that put this cancer in my bones. I’m not sorry about that, how could I be? It’s a waste of time, regretting the past. Besides, you don’t know for sure.” “Even

I’ve never been out four days. You’ve never been dead before.

Kauffman Luxury Vintage vodka. Distilled fourteen times and filtered twice, once through birch coal, once through quartz sand, it was produced from the wheat of a single year’s harvest, making it one of the only vodkas released with a specific vintage, like wine or champagne.

Always respect life. Then you’ll value yours. The hard part isn’t turning you into a killer. The hard part is keeping you human.

DC at night had a particular savage gleam, red taillights piercing through gloom, dingy alleys bookending martini-lounge hustle-bustle. And yet another realm hovered above in an angelic glow, the eye called to uplit white marble monuments, to rounded domes and thrusting peaks, to glowing penthouses floating above streets as dark as puddles. Everything that rose seemed to be mirrored in descent, the reflecting pool and the cool Potomac like portals to an underworld. Wetzel had read somewhere that Hollywood directors liked to hose down streets to make the asphalt sparkle on film. Washington was like that naturally, a black-ice kind of town – lose focus and you’d slip and break your neck.

Clouds boiled up over the opposing ridge, backlit and tumultuous. A scorched violet sangria sky breathed its last breaths.

The hardest part of trying to become an adult is realizing that your suffering doesn’t entitle you to anything.

I'll text you the address of their suspected headquarters," Melinda said. "I'm sure you can get some answers from them." "Oh man," Joey said, "those poor fuckers.

Evan let the thought in. tried to find the right one to send back out. "If you give up, it's just a fuck-you to anyone who ever cared about you.