Outlaw Star Quotes

So much of the past in encapsulated in the odds and ends. Most of us discard more information about ourselves than we ever care to preserve. Our recollection of the past is not simply distorted by our faulty perception of events remembered but skewed by those forgotten. The memory is like twin orbiting stars, one visible, one dark, the trajectory of what's evident forever affected by the gravity of what's concealed.

The Battle of Gettysburg was fought in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania in 18-something-or-nother. The year doesn‘t matter.They considered it the turning point of the war, and President Lincoln showed up to give his big speech. Who really cares what it was called? I don‘t. After it was all over and the North won, Congress passed the 13th amendment to free the slaves. It outlawed owning another person, yada, yada, yada, but it was a waste of time. All of it. Every bit. Completely pointless. All those people died and it didn't change anything, because it doesn't work if they don't enforce it. They just ignore it, turn their backs and say it‘s not their problem, but it is. It's everyone's problem. They can say slavery ended all they want, but that doesn't make it true. People lie. They'll tell you what they think you wanna hear, and you‘ll believe it. Whatever makes you feel better about your dismal little lives. So, whatever. Go on being naive. Believe what the history book tells you if you want. Believe what Mrs. Anderson wants me to tell you about it. Believe the land of the free, blah, blah, blah, star spangled banner bullshit. Believe there aren‘t any slaves anymore just because a tall guy in a big ass top hat and a bunch of politicians said so. But I won‘t believe it, because if I do too, we‘ll all fucking be wrong, and someone has to be right." -Carmine DeMarco

See, I wasn’t born to be an outlaw. Probably wasn’t built for any of this. But whatever life lay ahead of me was mine, paid for in full, and every point of light in the sky above was another path for me to follow. And there sure are a lot of stars up there.

Robin Hood. To a Friend. No! those days are gone away, And their hours are old and gray, And their minutes buried all Under the down-trodden pall Ofthe leaves of many years: Many times have winter's shears, Frozen North, and chilling East, Sounded tempests to the feast Of the forest's whispering fleeces, Since men knew nor rent nor leases. No, the bugle sounds no more, And the twanging bow no more; Silent is the ivory shrill Past the heath and up the hill; There is no mid-forest laugh, Where lone Echo gives the half To some wight, amaz'd to hear Jesting, deep in forest drear. On the fairest time of June You may go, with sun or moon, Or the seven stars to light you, Or the polar ray to right you; But you never may behold Little John, or Robin bold; Never one, of all the clan, Thrumming on an empty can Some old hunting ditty, while He doth his green way beguile To fair hostess Merriment, Down beside the pasture Trent; For he left the merry tale, Messenger for spicy ale. Gone, the merry morris din; Gone, the song of Gamelyn; Gone, the tough-belted outlaw Idling in the "grene shawe"; All are gone away and past! And if Robin should be cast Sudden from his turfed grave, And if Marian should have Once again her forest days, She would weep, and he would craze: He would swear, for all his oaks, Fall'n beneath the dockyard strokes, Have rotted on the briny seas; She would weep that her wild bees Sang not to her---strange! that honey Can't be got without hard money! So it is; yet let us sing Honour to the old bow-string! Honour to the bugle-horn! Honour to the woods unshorn! Honour to the Lincoln green! Honour to the archer keen! Honour to tight little John, And the horse he rode upon! Honour to bold Robin Hood, Sleeping in the underwood! Honour to maid Marian, And to all the Sherwood clan! Though their days have hurried by Let us two a burden try.

These tarnished rays, this night-smudged light — This is not that Dawn for which, ravished with freedom, we had set out in sheer longing, so sure that somewhere in its desert the sky harbored a final haven for the stars, and we would find it. We had no doubt that night’s vagrant wave would stray towards the shore, that the heart rocked with sorrow would at last reach its port. Friends, our blood shaped its own mysterious roads. When hands tugged at our sleeves, enticing us to stay, and from wondrous chambers Sirens cried out with their beguiling arms, with their bare bodies, our eyes remained fixed on that beckoning Dawn, forever vivid in her muslins of transparent light. Our blood was young — what could hold us back? Now listen to the terrible rampant lie: Light has forever been severed from the Dark; our feet, it is heard, are now one with their goal. See our leaders polish their manner clean of our suffering: Indeed, we must confess only to bliss; we must surrender any utterance for the Beloved — all yearning is outlawed. But the heart, the eye, the yet deeper heart — Still ablaze for the Beloved, their turmoil shines. In the lantern by the road the flame is stalled for news: Did the morning breeze ever come? Where has it gone? Night weighs us down, it still weighs us down. Friends, come away from this false light. Come, we must search for that promised Dawn.

They were a matched set, an outlaw and her hunter, both marked by metal and loss. They were two sides of a coin, a reflection in a spoon - almost touching, always chasing, never quite on the same page.

Those lavender eyes owned him now as they did four years ago. Where it all fucking started. She became the starring role of his misery and his awakening. He didn’t know at the time it was with a little girl too damn young for his tongue or his hands. But that night, four years ago, Roux Tucker crashed into his life and demanded everything from him. It almost led to his death, but he’d do it over and over and over. She only had to demand it from him again.

But this has taken place in inner consciousness, which is outlaw and accepts no check. What of it? Life is possible anyhow. Except that even legitimate and reasonable things have to come through this Mongolia, or clear-light desert minus trees. What do we respect more than commerce and industry? But when Mr. Cecil Rhodes of the British Empire weeps many tears because he can’t do business with the blazing stars, this is not decadence but inner consciousness speaking over all the highest works of presumptuous man.

When I placed the album cover side by side with the screenshot of the game screen, the two symbols matched exactly. 2112’s title track is an epic seven-part song, over twenty minutes in length. The song tells the story of an anonymous rebel living in the year 2112, a time when creativity and self-expression have been outlawed. The red star on the album’s cover was the symbol of the Solar Federation, the oppressive interstellar society in the story. The Solar Federation was controlled by a group of “priests,” who are described in Part II of the song, titled “The Temples of Syrinx.” Its lyrics told me exactly where the Crystal Key was hidden:

I mean to tell you, the Law's notion of justice is more cold-blooded than any outlaw I ever knew. And I mean 'outlaw,' not criminal. 'Criminal' doesn't distinguish between guys like men and the guys who own the banks and insurance companies and stock markets, who own the factories and coal mines and oil fields, who own the goddamn Law. I once said to John that being an outlaw was about the only way left for a man to hold on to his self-respect, and he said Ain't that the sad truth. The girls laughed along with us because they knew it wasn't a joke.... John got the publicity because he loved it ... he carried on like the whole thing was an adventure movie and he was Douglas Fairbanks. He wanted to to be a 'star.' That's how he was. Not me. I never even liked having my picture taken. All I ever wanted was to show the bastards who own the law that it didn't mean they owned me.

And thither, ere sweet night had slain sweet day, Iseult and Tristram took their wandering way, And rested, and refreshed their hearts with cheer In hunters' fashion of the woods; and here More sweet it seemed, while this might be, to dwell And take of all world's weariness farewell Than reign of all world's lordship queen and king. Nor here would time for three moon's changes bring Sorrow nor thought of sorrow; but sweet earth Fostered them like her babes of eldest birth, Reared warm in pathless woods and cherished well. And the sun sprang above the sea and fell, And the stars rose and sank upon the sea; And outlaw-like, in forest wise and free, The rising and the setting of their lights Found those twain dwelling all those days and nights. And under change of sun and star and moon Flourished and fell the chaplets woven of June, And fair through fervours of the deepening sky Panted and passed the hours that lit July, And each day blessed them out of heaven above, And each night crowned them with the crown of love. Nor till the might of August overhead Weighed on the world was yet one roseleaf shed Of all their joy's warm coronal, nor aught Touched them in passing ever with a thought That ever this might end on any day Or any night not love them where they lay; But like a babbling tale of barren breath Seemed all report and rumour held of death, And a false bruit the legend tear impearled That such a thing as change was in the world.

Where others only see coal, I see diamonds. Where others only see clouds, I see sunshine. Where others only see storms, I see rainbows. Where others only see thorns, I see roses. Where others only see seeds, I see harvests. Where others only see catapillars, I see butterflies. Where others only see cubs, I see lions. Where others only see darkness, I see stars. Where others only see wood, I see fire. Where others only see sparks, I see flames. Where others only see winters, I see summers. Where others only see frowns, I see smiles. Where others only see sorrows, I see joys. Where others only see nights, I sees days. Where others only see burdens, I see blessings. Where others only see hindrances, I see helpers. Where others only see enemies, I sees friends. Where others only see choas, I sees opportunity. Where others only see losses, I see gains. Where others only see crosses, I sees crowns. Where others only see warriors, I see generals. Where others only see learners, I see teachers. Where others only see followers, I see leaders. Where others only see scholars, I see professors. Where others only see soldiers, I sees commanders. Where others only see preachers, I see popes. Where others only see priests, I see prophets. Where others only see lawyers, I see judges. Where others only see students, I see masters. Where others only see outlaws, I see conquerors.

There are two classes of thinkers—one who commence with ignoring Nature, seeking in something outside it for the origin of it, and who look upon the infinite processes of the worlds which people space, with the dull astonishment accorded to mere agencies, rather than with the native wonder and awe which the consciousness of original powers awakens—these are Theists. The other class are those who regard matter as the very garment of the unknown God, to whom every spray, and pebble, and flower, and star is a marvel, a glory, and an inspiration; who, comprehending not an external cause of nature, recognise its existence, its surpassing affluence, its multitudinous marvels, and give them the first place in their wonder, study, reverence, and love—these are Affirmative Atheists.

Taking quick looks behind him on the trail, Lew Basnight was apt to see things that weren’t necessarily there. Mounted figure in a black duster and hat, always still, turned sidewise in the hard, sunlit distance, horse bent to the barren ground. No real beam of attention, if anything a withdrawal into its own lopsided star-shaped silhouette, as if that were all it had ever aspired to. It did not take long to convince himself that the presence behind him now, always just out of eyeball range, belonged to one and the same subject, the notorious dynamiter of the San Juans known as the Kieselguhr Kid. The Kid happened to be of prime interest to White City Investigations. Just around the time Lew was stepping off the train at the Union Station in Denver, and the troubles up in the Coeur d’Alene were starting to bleed over everywhere in the mining country, where already hardly a day passed without an unscheduled dynamite blast in it someplace, the philosophy among larger, city-based detective agencies like Pinkerton’s and Thiel’s began to change, being as they now found themselves with far too much work on their hands. On the theory that they could look at their unsolved cases the way a banker might at instruments of debt, they began selling off to less-established and accordingly hungrier outfits like White City their higher-risk tickets, including that of the long-sought Kieselguhr Kid. It was the only name anybody seemed to know him by, “Kieselguhr” being a kind of fine clay, used to soak up nitroglycerine and stabilize it into dynamite. The Kid’s family had supposedly come over as refugees from Germany shortly after the reaction of 1849, settling at first near San Antonio, which the Kid-to-be, having developed a restlessness for higher ground, soon left, and then after a spell in the Sangre de Cristos, so it went, heading west again, the San Juans his dream, though not for the silver-mine money, nor the trouble he could get into, both of those, he was old enough by then to appreciate, easy enough to come by. No, it was for something else. Different tellers of the tale had different thoughts on what. “Don’t carry pistols, don’t own a shotgun nor a rifle—no, his trade-mark, what you’ll find him packing in those tooled holsters, is always these twin sticks of dynamite, with a dozen more—” “Couple dozen, in big bandoliers across his chest.” “Easy fellow to recognize, then.” “You’d think so, but no two eyewitnesses have ever agreed. It’s like all that blasting rattles it loose from everybody’s memory.” “But say, couldn’t even a slow hand just gun him before he could get a fuse lit?” “Wouldn’t bet on it. Got this clever wind-proof kind of striker rig on to each holster, like a safety match, so all’s he has to do’s draw, and the ‘sucker’s all lit and ready to throw.” “Fast fuses, too. Some boys down the Uncompahgre found out about that just last August, nothin left to bury but spurs and belt buckles. Even old Butch Cassidy and them’ll begin to coo like a barn full of pigeons whenever the Kid’s in the county.” Of course, nobody ever’d been sure about who was in Butch Cassidy’s gang either. No shortage of legendary deeds up here, but eyewitnesses could never swear beyond a doubt who in each case, exactly, had done which, and, more than fear of retaliation—it was as if physical appearance actually shifted, causing not only aliases to be inconsistently assigned but identity itself to change. Did something, something essential, happen to human personality above a certain removal from sea level? Many quoted Dr. Lombroso’s observation about how lowland folks tended to be placid and law-abiding while mountain country bred revolutionaries and outlaws. That was over in Italy, of course. Theorizers about the recently discovered subconscious mind, reluctant to leave out any variable that might seem helpful, couldn’t avoid the altitude, and the barometric pressure that went with it. This was spirit, after all.

Try as he did at such times, his thoughts would inevitably turn to the pretty girl named Annie. Tony was always able to sense when the cowboy's deep longing for the girl was at its worst, and nudged him with his nose. He reached up and stroked the horse's mane absently, his thoughts further away than those stars above him. A pretty girl like that was probably at some dance, courted by a long list of admirers. A mere cowboy stood nary a chance, and one with a reputation like Wyn's even less. Even being seen with a man like Wyn should give Annie pause. With this sad realization he dozed, his gun always within reach. Even the quickest and most accurate of men could take nothing for granted in a land whose beauty often  masked its danger. Wyn knew the biggest danger, however, was the men who rode these untamed lands, which were often a haven for outlaws and bad men, as well as men like himself who simply loved the land. A wanted man could disappear completely in the wild country.

There.” We stared out. Among the darkness and the stars was one planet, blue with bits of green and some white clouds. Beyond it was the big, white, full moon. “Earth.

Life's Just a Day [Verse] Oh-oh, life's just a day, it's a wild, wild ride, Shit happens, we love, we lose, we still find our stride. From backroads to barrooms, in the shadow of the pines, We're tough as the mountains, strong as the Carolina vines. [Verse 2] When the sun dips low and the whiskey flows free, It's a dance with the devil but the stars never leave. We stumble and fall, but our boots hit the ground, With an outlaw heart, we’ll turn it all around. [Chorus] Oh, life's just a day, and it's a wild, wild ballet, Shit happens, we learn, we laugh, but we make our own way. Through the shadows and the scars, from the cradle to the grave, In the hard times and the good, yeah, we're brave. [Bridge] When the night is full of whispers and the moon's letting on, We find solace in the darkness, and in the crickets' song. For in every heartache, there's a story to tell, With each broken down fence, we rise up from the hell. [Verse 3] In rusted old trucks and in honky-tonk tunes, We gather our strength under a Tennessee moon. With a six-string in hand and a fire in our eyes, We’ll face down our demons with the courage of the skies. [Chorus] Oh, life's just a day, and it's a wild, wild ballet, Shit happens, we learn, we laugh, but we make our own way. Through the shadows and the scars, from the cradle to the grave, In the hard times and the good, yeah, we're brave.

I’d ask why you don’t want to be whipped, but I sense there’s a long heartfelt story behind it and I’ll feel sorry for you and I’m not really in the mood to feel pity. Maybe after a few more orgasms, I can fake sympathy. We’re just not there yet, champ.” “I like that nickname,” I said, taking her hand between mine. “Stud works too. King Cock is another favorite.” “How about Cock-A-Doodle-Doo?" “Too cartoony. I need something manlier. Cockinator.” Laughing, Raven yanked her hand away. “How about Robo Cock or White Cock Down? Ooh, Cockageddon.” “Independence Cock,” I suggested, laughing as I drank my juice. “Cock Hard or Cocky. You know the third one where Cocky goes to Russia.” Raven snorted. “Cocks on a Plane. No, Planet of the Cocks.” “Kindergarten Cock,” I said and Raven balked. “Did I take that too far?” “Perv. Oh, how about World War C?” “Too subtle.” “Iron Cock or Cock of Steel. You know, if you’re interested in the superhero route.” “Star Trek and superheroes. I sense the nerd is strong in this one.” “Fuck off. I saw the videogames at your stag shack.” “Wanna come over and play sometime?” I asked, giving her a wink. “Then, after we’re done playing, we can do that videogame thing you mentioned.” “Hang out time like you shared with Judd?” Expression hardening, I glared at her. “I never fucked Judd.” “Why? He’s hot.” Unable to keep up the façade, I laughed. “He’s a pretty fucker, ain’t he?” “Oh, yeah,” she sighed and I stopped laughing. Raven noticed and it was her turn to laugh. “He’s got those beautiful eyes.” “They’re beady rat eyes.” “He’s so strong.” “Puny girly man.” Raven licked her lips. “I bet he hung too.” I showed her my pinkie finger. “He’s barely this big when hard.” “And how do you know that if you two never fucked?” “Fine, we fucked, but we were pretty drunk and he is really pretty.” Raven nearly fell off her chair laughing. I felt intensely proud to make her lose her cool so thoroughly. After calming down, Raven threw up her hand and I high fived her. “You win,” she said, catching her breath. “I’ll play videogames at your place after fucking your brains out. Make you forget all about sexy Judd.

Where are you taking me?” “To town. I’m going to wire your daddy and get you a hotel room.” Her blue eyes filled with silvery stars. “You want to wire Daddy so you can ask for my hand,” she crooned. “You’re going to marry me.” “I was thinking more in terms of murder,” Steven replied. Joellen’s cheeks reddened. “Well, you have to marry me, Steven Fairfax—you’ve compromised my good name!” “I’m going to compromise your bottom if you don’t stop talking as if I had my way with you out there. I never touched you, except to share a coat, and you know it.” “Daddy doesn’t,” Joellen said, with a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. “And neither do all those cowboys, or Mr. Deva, or Sing Cho. They’re my witnesses that you’ve spoiled me for any other man.” Steven sighed and kept his silence.

She pressed his amulet to her lips, then let it fall on its chain to rest between their two bodies. “We could leave here,” she said to him. “We could run away together.” He frowned at the stars, the bubble of peacefulness that had settled around them after their lovemaking now ruptured. “I run from nothing and no one.

Back then, there weren’t channels dedicated to subcategories of the population. There was no Disney channel, no Food Network, no ESPN, no Bravo. There was Sam Donaldson, Peter Jennings, and, my personal crush, Tom Brokaw on the news, and we got cartoons for three hours on Saturday mornings until CBS switched to golf at 11:00 after the Smurfs. Oh sure, MTV hit the scene in 1981, but we couldn’t watch it because of the devil. Apparently we could watch a show starring two outlaw brothers, their half-naked cousin, and a car painted with the Confederate flag but couldn’t watch Madonna sing “Like a Virgin” because we might get secondhand pregnant.

There is one thing you need to know about the badge before pinning it on.” ​Danny looked up, and Barrett nodded at Banner, who stepped forward, his earlier smile replaced with a look of reverence. ​“The badge has a star with seven points, each representing one of the Seven Sacred Virtues,” he said.  “You will need to study them, practice them, and honor our ways.”  Barrett added from behind, “The virtues are prayer, honesty, humility, compassion, respect, generosity, and wisdom.

Beneath the boundless sky so wide, Rode Grady Hale, with Bess his pride. A cowboy's life, a tale untold, Of open plains and hearts so bold. With lasso looped and hat set low, He faced each storm and braved each foe. The west was wild, a canvas vast, Each sunset marked a day that passed. In towns where outlaws ruled the night, He stood for what was just and right. His aim was true, his courage firm, A beacon steady, a guiding term. The bullet found its mark one day, And Grady Hale, he slipped away. But in the hearts of those he saved, His legend grew, forever braved. Emma's tears, like rain, did fall, Yet in her heart, she stood tall. For love's embrace knows not an end, And cowboy's whispers, the winds send. So here's to Grady, a life well spent, A cowboy's ride, a heart content. In stories told 'round fires bright, His spirit lives in stars each night.

I panicked as a huge wave of power blasted out from the Imperial Star, sweeping over the entire battlefield. The Nymphs fell prey to its power, crashing to their knees and I fell too, grasping at my chest as some fierce magic took root in me. A huge fissure opened up in the sky at the command of the Phoenix Queen and the shadows started pouring into it from my army as the dark power was drawn from them, stolen away and cast into the abyss. I screamed in anguish as the shadows were taken from me too, ripped from the centre of my soul and leaving an empty hollowness in my chest which I feared would never be filled again. When the last of them were drawn into the hole in the sky, it closed up and the Imperial Star stopped shining in the hilt of the sword. “There will be no more war!” the Queen cried, her voice carrying across the quiet field, desperation in her tone. “And there shall be no more dark magic and no more shadows in our land ever again. From this day forward, it is outlawed. And those who call upon it will face my wrath.” “No!” I screamed, pushing to my feet. “We need the shadows to survive, we’re not like your kind!” “You will find a way,” the Queen sneered, calling a retreat to her people, leaving the Nymphs powerless on the ground. A huge red Dragon swept towards us and my heart lifted as I saw Octavius coming to aid me like he’d promised, backing me to the end and offering one final chance for us to turn this around. But instead of charging in with tooth and claw to save me, he roared an Order to his army and they turned on my Nymphs, burning them to soot with huge billows of fire from their lungs.  “Octavius!” I cried in horror as the Dragons decimated my army, betraying me and his promise, breaking my heart in two.

Down That Road soulful acoustic outlaw country [Verse] Son, I've been down that road, it's a lonely, dark trail, Battlin' the demons, chasin' whiskey and the ale, Lost in the night, where the stars don't gleam, Drownin' in the bottle, haunted by the dream. [Verse 2] I let the drugs and booze take control of my soul, Livin' in the shadows, fallin' in a hole, Days turned to nights, in a blurry haze, Each step I took was just another daze. [Chorus] But I fought long and hard to break those chains, To rise from the ashes, to soothe the pains, Found my way back to where I need to be, Son, you can too, just take it from me. [Verse 3] I've seen the bottom, where the cold winds blow, A life of regrets, where the sorrow flows, But there's a light that shines, if you reach for the sky, A reason each day to give it one more try. [Chorus] I fought long and hard to break those chains, To rise from the ashes, to soothe the pains, Found my way back to where I need to be, Son, you can too, just take it from me. [Bridge] It's a hard-worn path, with lessons learned, But there's hope in the struggle, and peace to be earned, Look to the future, let the past be gone, Keep movin' forward, and keep pressin' on.

Son, I've Been Down That Road soulful acoustic outlaw country [Verse] Son, I've been down that road, it's a lonely, dark trail, Battlin' the demons, chasin' whiskey and the ale, Lost in the night, where the stars don't gleam, Drownin' in the bottle, haunted by the dream. [Verse 2] I let the drugs and booze take control of my soul, Livin' in the shadows, fallin' in a hole, Days turned to nights, in a blurry haze, Each step I took was just another daze. [Chorus] But I fought long and hard to break those chains, To rise from the ashes, to soothe the pains, Found my way back to where I need to be, Son, you can too, just take it from me. [Verse 3] I've seen the bottom, where the cold winds blow, A life of regrets, where the sorrow flows, But there's a light that shines, if you reach for the sky, A reason each day to give it one more try. [Chorus] I fought long and hard to break those chains, To rise from the ashes, to soothe the pains, Found my way back to where I need to be, Son, you can too, just take it from me. [Bridge] It's a hard-worn path, with lessons learned, But there's hope in the struggle, and peace to be earned, Look to the future, let the past be gone, Keep movin' forward, and keep pressin' on.

Proud Americans outlaw country gritty defiant [Verse] Stompin' boots on dusty trails, where the thunder rolls, Stars and stripes hang high, in the heartland of our souls, Old-time whiskey in our veins, and the spirit of the free, Riding through the winds of change, it's where we wanna be. [Chorus] We're proud Americans, our hearts beat as one, The time has come, to heal and embrace, So let's stand united, let our voices be heard, Proud Americans, leading the way. [Verse 2] Front porches and pickup trucks, where stories still unfold, From sea to shining sea, we've got so much untold, Mending fences, crossing lines, together we are strong, In the land of milk and honey, where we all belong. [Chorus] We're proud Americans, our hearts beat as one, The time has come, to heal and embrace, So let's stand united, let our voices be heard, Proud Americans, leading the way. [Bridge] Through the trials and pain, we’ve always pulled through, In every small town and city, under skies of blue, With grit and love, in each verse we say, We're fighting for a brighter day. [Verse 3] Guitars strum like battle cries, in the twilight’s golden hue, From the shadows to the spotlight, we sing a country tune, Bonfires light the night, with hope and memories, Echoes of freedom, carried by the breeze.

The vast desert floor beneath them spread off into the darkness. A forgotten planet somewhere in the backwater of the galaxy turned once more on its axis in its long revolution about a star no one much cared about.

Besides," Guy's tone lowered, "I rather like my starring role in your story, even if it is as the villain.

• About the time I transitioned from being an emotionally disturbed teenager to a hardcore outlaw, I began to view the material world as a temporary illusion crippled by human boundaries. • Torn between the freewheeling lifestyle of a smuggler and being an austere spiritual seeker, there was a lot to sort out. • Being legal or illegal often depended upon what side of a border I was standing on. • A quiet disposition, warmth and imagination are prerequisites that moderate the chaos in a smuggler’s life, so I reciprocated with a beatific smile of my own. • As I became Americanized, the gap between my parents and me, even at such a tender age, had already grown to unmanageable proportions. • Kneeling at my side to check my attitude, he brushed the snow from my face. • God was some vague, powerful character that grown-ups harped on with varying degrees of reverent conviction. • He thought the man should have a cyclopean eye or some other distinguishing characteristic that would make the situation more discernible. • Mario made me feel like I belonged and I willfully flicked on the felonious switch. • It made perfect sense to view everyone as a cop so I wouldn’t end up in Bangkok’s Klong Prem Central prison on Ngamwongwan Road. • The pilot taxied us to the edge of the jungle where an old, dilapidated military jeep waited to take us to a place I was no longer sure I wanted to go. • Ancient and deadly, Asia would grow on me like the jungle that swallows everything in it. • He knew that I wasn’t being nurtured like other children, so he made it his personal mission to give me an edge. • I had only wanted to escape the sour halitosis of middle-class decay and the dead-end ramblings of my philosophy professors at the University of Wisconsin. • All the cells in my being were trying to shut their tiny little doors to keep out the sudden infestation of the dragon and his hordes of relentless devils. • Philip was like a shooting star whose spectacular tail burned across the financial sky for decades.

Krin had a reputation of a proclivity for the outlaw life.

monitor. He giggles and whispers at the screen. He’s looking at two digital photographs. One is a newspaper photo taken at a funeral service, zoomed in on the mourners. I know that funeral. I covered it for Channel Four News, the funeral of Hannah Walker, the beautiful blonde girl killed in Compton. The other photo is from a local football game, with an inset profile of star quarterback

Incredibly, the turn against slavery was as universal as slavery itself. Great Britain, leader of the global slave trade, banned its market in human beings in 1807 after a tireless campaign by abolitionists. Two laws enacted in 1833 and 1838 freed all British slaves. Denmark, Sweden, the Netherlands, France, Spain, and Portugal soon outlawed their slave trades, too, and after that slavery itself. Like stars winking out at the approach of dawn, cultures across the globe removed themselves from the previously universal exchange of human cargo.

COYOTEE" "Was a cowboy I knew in south Texas His face was burnt deep by the sun Part history, part sage, part Mexican He was there when Pancho Villa was young And he'd tell you a tale of the old days When the country was wild all around Sit out under the stars of the Milky Way And listen while the coyotes howl Well he cursed all the roads and the oilmen And he cursed the automobile Said, "This is no place for an hombre like I am In this new world of asphalt and steel." Then he'd look off someplace in the distance At something only he could see He'd say, "All that's left now of the old days: Those damned, old coyotes and me." Now the longhorns are gone And the drovers are gone The Comanches are gone And the outlaws are gone Now Quantrill is gone Stand Watie is gone And the lion is gone And the red wolf is gone One morning, they searched his adobe He disappeared without even a word But that night, as the moon crossed the mountain One more coyote was heard

COYOTES" "Was a cowboy I knew in south Texas His face was burnt deep by the sun Part history, part sage, part Mexican He was there when Pancho Villa was young And he'd tell you a tale of the old days When the country was wild all around Sit out under the stars of the Milky Way And listen while the coyotes howl Well he cursed all the roads and the oilmen And he cursed the automobile Said, "This is no place for an hombre like I am In this new world of asphalt and steel." Then he'd look off someplace in the distance At something only he could see He'd say, "All that's left now of the old days: Those damned, old coyotes and me." Now the longhorns are gone And the drovers are gone The Comanches are gone And the outlaws are gone Now Quantrill is gone Stand Watie is gone And the lion is gone And the red wolf is gone One morning, they searched his adobe He disappeared without even a word But that night, as the moon crossed the mountain One more coyote was heard

The eye is a delicate instrument, but it is blind to half the universe—far more than half. The night sky is black, we say: between the stars is void and darkness. But turn the telescope-eye on that space between the stars, and lo, the stars! Stars too faint and far for the eye alone to see, rank behind rank, glory beyond glory, out to the uttermost boundaries of the universe. Beyond all imagination, in the outer darkness, there is light: a great glory of sunlight. I have seen it. I have seen it, night after night, and mapped the stars, the beacons of God on the shores of darkness. And here too there is light! There is no place bereft of the light, the comfort and radiance of the creator spirit. There is no place that is outcast, outlawed, forsaken. There is no place left dark. Where the eyes of God have seen, there light is. We must go farther, we must look farther! There is light if we will see it. Not with eyes alone, but with the skill of the hands and the knowledge of the mind and the heart's faith is the unseen revealed, and the hidden made plain. And all the dark earth shines like a sleeping star.

Nathan bowed his head, imagining God looking down past the stars and the cloud-skirted moon to Nathan behind the curtains and the widow on the sofa while both prayed for help.