Patch Adams Quotes

When I was a girl I would look out my bedroom window at the caterpillars; I envied them so much. No matter what they were before, no matter what happened to them, they could just hide away and turn into these beautiful creatures that could fly away completely untouched.

The purpose of a doctor or any human in general should not be to simply delay the death of the patient, but to increase the person's quality of life.

The most radical act anyone can commit is to be happy.

Remember laughing? Laughter enhances the blood flow to the body’s extremities and improves cardiovascular function. Laughter releases endorphins and other natural mood elevating and pain-killing chemicals, improves the transfer of oxygen and nutrients to internal organs. Laughter boosts the immune system and helps the body fight off disease, cancer cells as well as viral, bacterial and other infections. Being happy is the best cure of all diseases!

Death is not the enemy sir, Indifference is! You treat a disease, you win, you lose. You treat a person, I guarantee you, you'll win, no matter what the outcome. Is this interesting?

Excellence in health means devoting your life to ending poverty.

Everyone has creative potential. Creativity involves using your imagination and inventiveness. Your unique expression of yourself is your creativity...Creativity can be magic when visiting people who are ill.

At the age of 18, I made up my mind to never have another bad day in my life. I dove into a endless sea of gratitude from which I've never emerged.

Scientists often invent words to fill the holes in their understanding. These words are meant as conveniences until real understanding can be found. Sometimes understanding comes and the temporary words can be replaced with words that have more meaning. More often, however, the patch words will take on a life of their own and no one will remember that they were only intended to be placeholders.

When a poor soul is somewhat awakened by the terrors of the Lord, then the poor creature, being born under the covenant of works, flies directly to a covenant of works again. And as Adam and Eve hid themselves… and sewed fig leaves… so the poor sinner, when awakened, flies to his duties and to his performances, to hide himself from God, and goes to patch up a righteousness of his own. Says he, I will be mighty good now–I will reform–I will do all I can; and then certainly Jesus Christ will have mercy on me.

Funny how things like that can change when you're in these kind of situations. Kash usually drove me crazy. He was so stubborn, and such a smart-ass, but I missed those annoying traits so much. I missed the way our personalities clashed and resulted in us fighting; I would give anything to fight with Kash again. The thought of having children with him used to terrify me, and now I was afraid I'd never get to have that opportunity. And I hated the nickname Sour Patch so damn much, but I would never complain about it again if it meant hearing Kash's voice.

Mixed with the resinous scent of the firs there came another smell, strong and fragrant, yet sharp—the perfume of flowers, but of some kind unknown to Hazel. He followed it to its source at the edge of the wood. It came from several thick patches of soapwort growing along the edge of the pasture. Some of the plants were not yet in bloom, their buds curled in pink, pointed spirals held in the pale green calices, but most were already star-flowering and giving off their strong scent. The bats were hunting among the flies and moths attracted to the soapwort.

At what point in history did a doctor become something more than a trusted and learned friend who visited and treated the ill?

The walls are muted gray and bare, except for a small patch where someone has written, in bright blue marker, DON’T COLOR ON THE WALLS! I recognize the handwriting from Adam’s notebook and smile widely.

Define success as something achievable. For myself I define success like this: Did I try? Did I give my time? Did I never give up? All of which are very easy to do. Do not put success in things or outcomes.

Nick did not want to go in there now. He felt a reaction against deep wading with the water deepening up under his armpits, to hook big trout in places impossible to land them. In the swamp the banks were bare, the big cedars came together overhead, the sun did not come through, except in patches; in the fast deep water, in the half light, the fishing would be tragic. In the swamp fishing was a tragic adventure. Nick did not want it. He did not want to go down the stream any farther today. He

The jeep, the symbolic, faithful letter carrier, the flag patch… they recalled comfort, innocence, cooperation, an easy life that allowed millions of men and women to relax, to smile or argue as they chose, to be tolerant with one another—and to hope to be better people with the passage of time.

Why didn't someone hand those newly sighted people paints and brushes from the start, when they still didn't know what anything was? Then maybe we all could see color-patches too, the world unraveled from reason, Eden before Adam gave names. The scales would drop from my eyes; I'd see trees like men walking; I'd run down the road against all orders, allowing and leaping.

He sat on a step, took from his satchel a bottle of that Ol’ Janx Spirit and a towel. He opened the bottle and wiped the top of it with the towel, which had the opposite effect to the one intended, in that the Ol’ Janx Spirit instantly killed off millions of the germs which had been slowly building up quite a complex and enlightened civilization on the smellier patches of his towel.

Adams came of age, too, at a time when the Massachusetts economy was markedly on the skids. Plenty of other young men stumbled in finding their footholds. On leaving Harvard shortly after Adams, a future colleague would try his hand as a schoolmaster. Miserable, he sailed off as a merchant, later as a whaler. He was soon back in Boston. In a patched gown, he served briefly as a chaplain. Out of options, he turned to the law.

The possibility that Adam Weishaupt killed George Washington and took his place, serving as our first President for two terms, is now confirmed…. The two main colors of the American flag are, excluding a small patch of blue in one corner, red and white: these are also the official colors of the Hashishim. The flag and the Illuminati pyramid both have thirteen horizontal divisions: thirteen is, of course, the traditional code for marijuana … and is still used in that sense by Hell’s Angels among others.

Since my biographer may be too staid Or know too little to affirm that Shade Shaved in his bath, here goes: "He'd fixed a sort Of hinge-and-screw affair, a steel support Running across the tub to hold in place The shaving mirror right before his face And with his toe renewing tap-warmth, he'd Sit like a king there, and like Marat bleed." The more I weigh, the less secure my skin; In places it's ridiculously thin; Thus near the mouth: the space between its wick And my grimace, invited the wicked nick. Or this dewlap: some day I must set free The Newport Frill inveterate in me. My Adam's apple is a prickly pear: Now I shall speak of evil and despair As none has spoken. Five, six, seven, eight, Nine strokes are not enough. Ten. I palpate Through strawberry-and-cream the gory mess And find unchanged that patch of prickliness. I have my doubts about the one-armed bloke Who in commercials with one gliding stroke Clears a smooth path of flesh from ear to chin, Then wipes his faces and fondly tries his skin. I'm in the class of fussy bimanists. As a discreet ephebe in tights assists A female in an acrobatic dance, My left hand help, and holds, and shifts its stance. Now I shall speak...Better than any soap Is the sensation for which poets hope When inspiration and its icy blaze, The sudden image, the immediate phrase Over the skin a triple ripple send Making the little hairs all stand on end As in the enlarged animated scheme Of whiskers mowed when held up by Our Cream.

Although leaves remained on the beeches and the sunshine was warm, there was a sense of growing emptiness over the wide space of the down. The flowers were sparser. Here and there a yellow tormentil showed in the grass, a late harebell or a few shreds of purple bloom on a brown, crisping tuft of self-heal. But most of the plants still to be seen were in seed. Along the edge of the wood a sheet of wild clematis showed like a patch of smoke, all its sweet-smelling flowers turned to old man's beard. The songs of the insects were fewer and intermittent. Great stretches of the long grass, once the teeming jungle of summer, were almost deserted, with only a hurrying beetle or a torpid spider left out of all the myriads of August. The gnats still danced in the bright air, but the swifts that had swooped for them were gone and instead of their screaming cries in the sky, the twittering of a robin sounded from the top of a spindle tree. The fields below the hill were all cleared. One had already been plowed and the polished edges of the furrows caught the light with a dull glint, conspicuous from the ridge above. The sky, too, was void, with a thin clarity like that of water. In July the still blue, thick as cream, had seemed close above the green trees, but now the blue was high and rare, the sun slipped sooner to the west and, once there, foretold a touch of frost, sinking slow and big and drowsy, crimson as the rose hips that covered the briar. As the wind freshened from the south, the red and yellow beech leaves rasped together with a brittle sound, harsher than the fluid rustle of earlier days. It was a time of quiet departures, of the sifting away of all that was not staunch against winter.

The ownership of land is not natural. The American savage, ranging through forests who game and timber are the common benefits of all his kind, fails to comprehend it. The nomad traversing the desert does not ask to whom belong the shifting sands that extend around him as far as the horizon. The Caledonian shepherd leads his flock to graze wherever a patch of nutritious greenness shows amidst the heather. All of these recognise authority. They are not anarchists. They have chieftains and overlords to whom they are as romantically devoted as any European subject might be to a monarch. Nor do they hold as the first Christians did, that all land should be held in common. Rather, they do not consider it as a thing that can be parceled out. “We are not so innocent. When humanity first understood that a man’s strength could create good to be marketed, that a woman’s beauty was itself a commodity for trade, then slavery was born. So since Adam learnt to force the earth to feed him, fertile ground has become too profitable to be left in peace. “This vital stuff that lives beneath our feet is a treasury of all times. The past: it is packed with metals and sparkling stones, riches made by the work of aeons. The future: it contains seeds and eggs: tight-packed promises which will unfurl into wonders more fantastical than ever jeweller dreamed of -- the scuttling centipede, the many-branched tree whose roots, fumbling down into darkness, are as large and cunningly shaped as the boughs that toss in light. The present: it teems. At barely a spade’s depth the mouldy-warp travels beneath my feet: who can imagine what may live a fathom down? We cannot know for certain that the fables of serpents curving around roots of mighty trees, or of dragons guarding treasure in perpetual darkness, are without factual reality. “How can any man own a thing so volatile and so rich? Yet we followers of Cain have made of our world a great carpet, whose pieces can be lopped off and traded as though it were inert as tufted wool.

Jeff Skoll: There was a moment, about four or five days into it, when the technical team said, “We don’t think that we can bring this up.” And everyone just sat in silence for about twenty minutes. If you have a mind-set where you are always looking for a black swan no matter how good the news has been, then you are always afraid of that black swan. Well, that was our black swan. It was, “Yes, the company is dead,” and we’re all in shock, but then a new breath of life came in. Right around then a junior Oracle programmer said, “I’ve just found something, I wonder if this could be it?” It was a line of code that was just off. And sure enough, that was the problem, and after we made the patch, the system started to come back up, gradually.

My name is Logan Ryan, but everybody calls me Kash. I was born and raised in Tampa Bay, Florida, and for almost four and a half years now I've worked in law enforcement. I'll be twenty-six soon and don't have any siblings. I'll do just about anything for pancakes and green Sour Patch Kids. And I will do anything to make sure I never lose you again.

Do you want to marry me?' "Yes." "Do you want to have kids with me?" "Someday." "Do you ever miss taking your pill?" "Never." His grey eyes turned silver and the heat in them warmedmy body. "Bed. Now. We're never using condoms again." "Pancakes." I argued miserably. He turned off the skillet, put the batter in the fridge, and pointedin the direction of his bedroom. "We'll make them later. Go." "But-" "Woman, I just found out that you've been on the Pill this whole time. Right now I'm struggling not to spank the heck out of you. Last time I'm going to tell you." He leaned in close and ordered gruffly, "Bed, Rachel. Now." .... I'd barely made it two steps when his hand came down across my butt, which was still covered in his shirt. "Woah!" I yelled, and covered myself with my hands as I turned to face him. "Ow! That hurt, you jerk!" "Don't lie, Sour Patch, you enjoyed it." When he lifted me up, I automatically wrapped my legs around his hips and let me walk me back to the bedroom. "And you're going to get another one for making me take you to the bed.

At what point in history did a doctor become something more than a trusted and learned friend who visited and treated the ill?

Adam didn’t want to talk to anyone but us. He brought a little foam football, told us he’d saved up all his chore money so he could learn to throw it like Deacon did on TV. That was the first time that boy made me cry. The second time was twenty minutes later, after he fell and scraped his knee. I cleaned it up, patched it, and kissed it better. He looked up at me with so much love in those tear-filled eyes, covered my hand with his, and said I’d make the best mama to the luckiest kid in the world. We started the adoption process the next day.

PLAY IS MORE POWERFUL THAN LOVE.” ~ Patch Adams, MD

In a little over a month, you will be my wife. This time . . . nothing is stopping us. I’m going to marry you, I’m going to make you mine, and I’m going to keep you by my side for the rest of my life.” She took a deep breath in through her nose, and a smile crossed her face when she released it. “I can’t wait, Logan. I’m so ready for my life with you. I just hope it’s really boring compared to this first year.” I laughed hard and kissed her forehead. “Me too, Sour Patch. Me too.

Suddenly he was gone and I stumbled back a step before catching myself. I turned to see where he’d gone, and my button-up shirt hit me in the face. “What the—” “Get dressed, we gotta go.” “The hell, Kash? You can’t do stuff like that to me and then stop!” “Have you forgotten what frustration feels like?” he asked huskily. I wanted to punch him in the face. “I hate you.” His lips curved up into my favorite smirk and he winked. “I love you too, Sour Patch.” Douche.

Kash?” Rachel whispered. My legs felt like they were going to give out when she said my name. “Yeah, Sour Patch,” I managed to say. “It’s me.” “Kash!” she yelled, and turned to wrap her arms tightly around my neck. Dying.

There are still times when I stop dead in my tracks when I see you, and wonder how you’re mine. You’re beautiful; and your fire for life, and strength after everything you’ve been through, amazes me. So if anyone leaves the other speechless, it’s you.” My heart pounded in my chest and a smile broke across my face. I couldn’t have contained it even if I wanted to. “I love you, Logan Kash Ryan, and I’m so thankful for you.” “Ditto, Sour Patch.” I

That was a lovely story”—Dad drawled again—“and you tell it so well, with such enthusiasm.” Mom rolled her eyes and shook her head as she smiled, and Rachel just looked at my dad like she was about to let him have it. At the last second, her head jerked back. “Wait. Forrest Gump . . . really, Rich? You’re using Forrest Gump quotes to insult me?” “You have met your match, honey!” Mom cheered, and Dad just huffed in annoyance toward them, but shot me a wink. “She doesn’t put up with your bullshit or mine. Son, I’m telling you, you better hold on tight to that one.” “I will, Dad. Rach, are you done with the shoes?” “I’m not sure. If you bring up my shoes again, I could probably sit here and rearrange them, maybe set them up by color, size of the heel, and length of the boot.” “Woman, get out of the damn closet. I have to put this up, and if you coordinate your shoes, I swear to you they will be in a pile on the floor the next time you come in here.” “Logan Kash Ryan!” Mom chided at the same time Rachel swore, “I will gut you.” My little Sour Patch. So fucking cute when she’s threatening my life.

You’re such an—” She cut off quickly and moaned when I gently bit down on her neck and brought her shoving hands above her head and pinned them to the bed. Making a trail up her neck, I kissed her thoroughly and smiled when she leaned toward me as I backed up. “Such a what?” “I don’t remember,” she said against my mouth and pressed our lips together again. “That’s what I thought, Sour Patch.” She

Put me down! I wanted to finish watching that.” “You’re recording it, it can wait until tomorrow.” “But it’s Duck Dynasty,” she whined, and I could picture her frowning as I carried her through the hall. “And it can wait.” She slapped my ass as hard as she could, and I paid it right back. “Jerk! I don’t make you stop watching your shows.” “But my shows are good.” “Duck Dynasty is amazing!” “Rach, you’ll live.” I put my hands on her waist and bent over as I pushed her off my shoulder and onto the bed. She jackknifed up and I crawled on top of her and pushed her right back down. “You’re such an—” She cut off quickly and moaned when I gently bit down on her neck and brought her shoving hands above her head and pinned them to the bed. Making a trail up her neck, I kissed her thoroughly and smiled when she leaned toward me as I backed up. “Such a what?” “I don’t remember,” she said against my mouth and pressed our lips together again. “That’s what I thought, Sour Patch.” She

Kash— If you’ve found this, and I’m with you, then you know that I love you, and let me take this time to remind you that I will love you with everything that I am for the rest of our lives. I hope that by now I’m getting tired of hearing the name Sour Patch again, but, please, don’t ever stop calling me that. No matter how much I say I hate it, it reminds me of when we first met, and I love those memories. I hope we’re already fighting again. Couples are afraid to fight with each other, but fighting with you is one of the things I miss the most. You drive me crazy, and I know you push my buttons on purpose, but you also don’t put up with my bullshit, and that’s one of the many reasons I fell in love with you. Knowing you, I’m probably making you pancakes as you read this. And I guarantee you I’m already tired of those, but I’ll continue to make them as long as I can continue eating your green Sour Patch Kids. But . . . if you’re finding this, and I’m gone, please know that I loved you fiercely up until the very end. I know you did everything to try and find me, don’t blame yourself for any of this, because I don’t blame you. Take care of Trip, and take care of yourself. Don’t be afraid to fall in love again, I can’t stand to think of you spending the rest of your life alone. Love her as much as you’ve loved me, and I pray the woman knows how lucky she is to have a man like you by her side. . . . I know you, Kash; you come in and save the day at the last minute . . . so I’ll be here, waiting for you at the “last minute.” But no matter what happens, Logan Kash Ryan, you’re still my hero. I love you. Always. —Rachel

Jesus, Kash!” “What are you doing?” “What are you doing? Why are you just standing out here like a creeper?” He smirked and followed me over to my apartment. “I’m trying to figure out why you’re army-crawling all over the breezeway and shouting for a candy bar.” “I’m not shouting for a candy bar, I’m looking for a cat that isn’t there.” One of his thick eyebrows rose and he bit down on his lip ring to try to hide his smile as he held my door open for us. “Mrs. Adams . . . isn’t exactly all there. She thinks she has cats and she doesn’t. And every Thursday since we moved in, she’s come knocking at eight thirty asking for me to help her look for them.” “And you help her, knowing they aren’t there?” “Well, I didn’t know the first time until I got into her apartment. Her cats are really stuffed animals and pillows.” “But you helped her every other time knowing what you know?” He’d stopped biting on that ring and his lips kept tilting up as he tried to control his smile. “Yeah, Kash, I did. Because no one else does, and don’t laugh at me! It’s not funny, I feel really bad for her! You should see how upset she gets over this.” I turned to walk into my room, but he caught me around my waist and hauled my body back to his. “I’m not laughing at you, Rach,” he mumbled huskily, and his gray eyes roamed my face. “I think it’s adorable that you help her. You’re really just a big softy, aren’t you?” Laughing when I growled at him, he continued to piss me off even more. “You’re like Sour Patch Kids candy.” “What the hell?” “Sour . . . then sweet.” “I will castrate you if you don’t let me go right now.

Why can’t you just admit you’re attracted to me, Rachel?” I asked into her ear as I pressed my body against hers. She swallowed audibly and shook her head as if to clear her mind before speaking. “Because I’m not? I’m not attracted to guys who look like they’re Photoshopped and who have bigger chests than most girls I know.” I couldn’t help it. I laughed loudly and had to pull back slightly when the movement and being pressed up against her made my jeans shrink a size. “Liar.” Even if her voice hadn’t gone all breathy, I still hadn’t forgotten her blush. “And I really hate your tattoos.” “No you don’t.” “And your lip ring and your eyes. And your hair, it drives me nuts. You really need to cut it. Or better yet, one morning you’ll wake up and I will have shaved it off while you slept.” I smiled and let my nose run along her jaw, loving the quick breath she took and how her eyes fluttered shut when I did. “Good to know your favorite things about me, Sour Patch. And if you’re wondering . . . everything about you is my favorite.” “They’re not. And I wasn’t.” “Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But do you think we could wrap up this meeting about how much you want me? I really need to go buy about a dozen pints of ice cream so I can work at not looking Photoshopped anymore.” Her eyes snapped open and darkened as she narrowed them at me. “God, you’re annoying.” “And you’re keeping me from eating.” “I’m not the one who isn’t dressed.” Touché. “I think I should go like this. Maybe there will be a woman there who appreciates the way I look.

He laughed low and pulled me close to whisper against my lips, “My Sour Patch.” I growled unimpressively at him and he smiled. He knew I couldn’t stand that name, but I’m sure that’s why he continued to call me that.

Do you want to marry me?” “Yes.” “Do you want to have kids with me?” “Someday,” I whispered. “Do you ever miss taking your pill?” “Never.” His gray eyes turned silver and the heat in them warmed my body. “Bed. Now. We’re never using condoms again.” “Pancakes?” I argued miserably. He turned off the skillet, put the batter in the fridge, and pointed in the direction of his bedroom. “We’ll make them later. Go.” “But—” “Woman, I just found out that you’ve been on the Pill this whole time. Right now I’m struggling not to spank the hell out of you. Last time I’m going to tell you.” He leaned in close and ordered gruffly, “Bed, Rachel. Now.” Goose bumps covered my skin and a pleasant shiver made its way through my body as I turned to leave the kitchen. I’d barely made it two steps when his hand came down across my butt, which was still covered in his shirt. “Whoa!” I yelled, and covered myself with my hands as I turned to face him. “Ow! That hurt, you jerk!” I went to smack him but he caught my hand and smiled as he kissed my palm. “Don’t lie, Sour Patch, you enjoyed it.

Rach.” He laughed low and my eyes snapped up to his. “What’s up?” “Oh, um . . .” This was a really bad idea. Would I look like a complete freak if I took off running for my car right now? “Well, I . . .” “Yes . . . ?” “You, uh, wanna have a lock-out night with me?” He mouthed the words lock-out night before recognition flashed through his gray eyes. “Mason with Candice?” “Yep.” “You don’t have to ask or have a reason, Rach. You’re welcome here whenever.” My eyes drifted over the colorful artwork covering his shoulders and arms and I somehow made it into the apartment without running into anything. I wanted to study the tattoos but he was still smirking, so I forced my eyes onto the TV and walked past him. “So did you get tired of hanging out at Starbucks for hours on end, or did they finally kick you out?” I huffed and shook my head. Such an ass. Spinning around, I began walking right back to the front door. I don’t care that he’s half-naked and I have to use superhuman strength to not throw myself at him and explore his sculpted body with my hands and mouth. He’s just such a freaking pain. “I don’t think so, Sour Patch.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me back until I was standing in front of the couch. “Sit.” “I’m not a dog.” He rolled his eyes. “Sit down, woman. I’ll be right back.” With a shove strong enough to send me down to the couch, he smiled wryly and turned toward his bedroom. “Put a shirt on while you’re in there!” He snorted.   Kash

I’m fine, Kash. You’re both being ridiculous.” “I know you are,” I said softly, and brushed her cheek. She flinched when I touched the red mark. “But you have a handprint on your face, and you’re covered in beer, and I swear to God if anyone touches or looks at you again I won’t be able to stop myself from ripping into them.” Her blue eyes softened and she momentarily leaned into my hand. “That was actually a really impressive slap. It shocked me.” A grin tugged at my mouth and I brushed a kiss over her forehead. “I could tell. I’m proud of you for not reacting though. It would’ve just caused more trouble, and since you work here, it wouldn’t have gone over well. What did you call her though?” “A two-dollar whore.” God, she was cute. “And she got mad? I think that’s a compliment for her.” “Right?” Rachel pushed at my stomach. “Go back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Sleep well, Sour Patch.”   Rachel

My name is Logan Ryan, but everyone calls me Kash,” I said, and she laughed softly. “I was born and raised in Tampa Bay, Florida, and for almost four and a half years now I’ve worked in law enforcement. I’ll be twenty-six soon and don’t have any siblings. I’ll do just about anything for pancakes and green Sour Patch Kids.” She smiled and I stroked her jaw with my thumb. “And I will do anything to make sure I never lose you again.” “My name is Rachel Lynn Masters, I’m twenty-one, and I’m from Yorba Linda, California . . . formerly known as far West Texas.” She winked and wiggled closer to me. For a few moments she just looked at me before taking a big breath and laying the rest of it out there. “I don’t know what I want to do for the rest of my life, but I know that whatever it is, I want to do it with you.

Why are you such an ass?” she grunted when I turned back toward the living room. “All I want is to be alone right now!” “Ah, my little Sour Patch. We’re going to have to work on that if you want to get married. Because after we are, you can’t just walk out on a fight.” “I didn’t know we were fighting,” she grumbled. “We weren’t until you started PMS-ing on me.” “I am not PMS-ing! Put me down!” “Gladly.” I let her slide down and pushed her so she was lying down on the couch and crawled on top of her, caging her in. “Talk.” Her blue eyes were on fire as they narrowed at me, and I watched as her jaw locked while she took deep breaths in through her nose. My girl was about to explode, and as much as I loved her when she was pissed off, I needed to know what had just happened. “Drop the attitude, Sour Patch, and talk to me.

Cracking one eye open, I saw Kash sitting on the edge of my bed just staring at me with an amused expression. “Can I help you?” I mumbled against the pillow. “I’m hungry and want pancakes.” “You want . . . What are you, five?! Make your own. I even bought the easy-make pancakes last weekend. All you have to do is add water.” I rolled over and groaned. “Seven thirty? Kash, we didn’t get back from work until after one. You have got to stop waking me up so early. And how are you even in here?” He looked like he was fighting a smile and his eyes kept flashing up above mine. “Candice let me in.” Trying to act like I didn’t notice where his eyes kept going, and like I wasn’t flipping out because I was sure my hair looked like a hot mess, I slowly brought my arm up to brush back the hair from my face when my hand hit something that tugged at my forehead. “What the hell?” I tried to look straight up and even leaned my head back to try to follow whatever was at the very top of my forehead. I saw a blue tip and grabbed at it before yanking it off and holding it in front of my eyes. “A Nerf dart?!” Kash shamelessly pulled up a Nerf gun and waved it at his side. His eyes slid back up to my forehead and a hard laugh burst from his chest. Rolling back, he fell off the bed and landed with a dull thump on the floor. “What?” I snapped, and scrambled out of bed. As I made my way to the bathroom, I was hit once in the butt and once on my calf by more darts. “You’re such a child, Kash!” Flipping on the light, I blinked against the brightness before focusing on the mirror. A loud gasp filled the small room. “Logan Kash Hendricks! What did you do?” He was still cracking up as he got to his feet and came to stand behind me. “I just had to make sure it was on there real good. So I tested it a few times . . . you’re a really heavy sleeper, by the way.” “There is a hickey on my forehead!” His body was shaking from the laughter he was trying to keep in now. “It’s not funny! This better be gone by the time we go to work tonight.” “Don’t be mad, Sour Patch.” He planted his chin at the top of my head and brushed at my bangs. “You have those, they’ll cover it. Can we have pancakes now?” My eyes went wide and my jaw dropped as I continued to stare at him in the mirror. “No! Go make them yourself.” He frowned and brought the toy gun up in front of us. “I’ll let you shoot me.” I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. Pancakes sounded really good right now. With a heavy sigh, I held my hand out. “Give me the gun.” As soon as it was in my hand, I went around collecting the three darts and put them back in with the other three still in there before aiming it right at his forehead. Kash smiled, closed his eyes, and took all six darts like a champ. When I was done he had little red marks all over his forehead, and though I knew his would be gone in a few minutes, I felt like he’d gotten it worse than I did. “Feel better?” “A little.” I handed the gun back to him and turned toward my door. “Let’s go make pancakes.” I’d barely hit the kitchen when I realized I didn’t hear him behind me. “And don’t even think about shooting me again, or you’ll be on your own for breakfast!” Whirling

Funny how things like that change when you’re in these kinds of situations. Kash usually drove me crazy. He was so stubborn, and such a smart-ass, but I missed those annoying traits so much. I missed the way our personalities clashed and resulted in us fighting; I would give anything to fight with Kash again. The thought of having children with him used to terrify me, and now I was afraid I’d never get to have that opportunity. And I hated the nickname Sour Patch so damn much, but I would never complain about it again if it meant hearing Kash’s voice. Tears

I giggled when Kash pulled us back into the hall and pressed us close as his mouth teased the sensitive spot behind my ear. “I don’t think so, mister.” “I can’t help it . . . this is the one time we’re not chasing after our girls and someone else is watching them. And, fuck, Rachel, you look so hot. Swear to God I’m keeping you pregnant all the time. We’re going to have a football team.” I laughed and elbowed his stomach. “Whatever.” “Don’t ‘whatever’ me, Sour Patch. You know you’re sexy as hell.” I rolled my eyes and turned to kiss him before whispering against his lips, “Liar.” “Never.” He

Leaning back until I was lying on the bed, I rolled us over and hovered over her body. She dragged her hands through my hair and giggled when I bent low and kissed her stomach over and over. “What does it feel like?” “Nothing,” she said on a laugh as her fingertips continued to trail across my head. “You haven’t really been sick, have you? I remember that day last week, but I can’t think of anything else.” I felt shitty for not noticing, if she had been. I should have picked up on this, shouldn’t I? “Not really. There’s been times here and there, but from the horror stories I’ve heard, I don’t have it bad at all.” I nodded and kissed her stomach again before reaching over to the nightstand. Grabbing the ultrasound picture, I laid it down on the bottom of her stomach and hopped off the bed, looking for my pants. After I found them, and took my phone out of the pocket, I walked back over to Rachel and opened up the camera app. “What are you doing?” “Letting everyone know about my present.” That soft smile was back, before her eyes went wide in horror. “No! I’m in my bra and underwear!” “Calm down, Sour Patch. I’m not about to let anyone see the rest of you. You’re mine, not theirs.” All that you could see in the picture was her torso and the ultrasound picture. As soon as she gave me the okay, I set up a text to go to Mason, Candice, Maddie, Eli, and all our parents. Above the picture I typed out: MY WEDDING PRESENT, and underneath, I did a twist on Rachel’s words from the envelope: BABY RYAN 1 AND BABY RYAN 2 WILL BE HERE IN MARCH. Once

Go change, Rach.” “What, you don’t like what I’m wearing now?” I laughed humorlessly and grabbed the shirt from him. He smiled wickedly at me and leaned over so his lips were at my ear. “You look so . . . very . . .” His lips brushed my ear before he leaned back. I cleared my throat and tried not to lean toward him. “I look what? Edible?” I asked, pointing at my newest addition to my shirt. Sucking on the metal in his lip, he gave me a once-over, and when his eyes came back up to mine they were heated. Completely not fitting his next statement. “I was going to say disgusting. But sure, edible works too.” “You’re such an asshole.” I smacked his arm and turned toward the bathroom. He laughed and backed up in the direction of the dining area. “Cheer up, Sour Patch.” Until

I’m not laughing at you, Rach,” he mumbled huskily, and his gray eyes roamed my face. “I think it’s adorable that you help her. You’re really just a big softy, aren’t you?” Laughing when I growled at him, he continued to piss me off even more. “You’re like Sour Patch Kids candy.” “What the hell?” “Sour . . . then sweet.” “I will castrate you if you don’t let me go right now.” My eyes narrowed and he lost his fight as he grinned widely at me and kept me in his arms.

No more shields, Sour Patch.” “I hate when you call me that,” she said through gritted teeth. “Well, I hate when you act like a bitch as a defense mechanism.” She stared at me in shock for a full minute before smiling shyly at me and looking away again. “Old habit.” She shrugged. Grabbing her chin, I forced her to look at me again. “I’m serious, Rachel. When you’re with me, no more shields.” “You don’t understand—” “I do,” I told her. “You hide your pain behind them. This is how you think you’re protecting yourself. I’m sure it works with some people, but all you’re doing is pushing them away. If you’re hurting, tell me. I’m here for you, and your bullshit isn’t going to work on me because I’m not going to let you push me away. Got it?” “Yeah.

Drop the attitude, Sour Patch, and talk to me.” “I don’t want to talk to you. I want a couple hours to myself, we can talk after.” “Too bad. You have me with you right now, and I’m not going anywhere. Why do you suddenly not want to have kids? I understand wanting to wait until after we are married, but you kept making it longer and longer until you tell me you don’t know if you want kids. When did this change?” “I don’t know, okay? I. Don’t. Know. You see me with little kids and your mind instantly goes to us having kids. You know where mine went? Exactly where it’s been going the last couple months. The fact that I won’t have my mom there with me when I go through pregnancies, and having babies, and taking care of toddlers, and dealing with teenagers with bad attitudes! I don’t have her here to plan our wedding, she wasn’t there when I bought my dress, she won’t be there for anything, Kash, do you understand that?” Her temper flared out quickly and tears filled her eyes. “I’ve already been having a hard time with that, but today as I sat there and listened to Ava ask your aunts and mom dozens of questions, I realized I’m terrified of not having my mom there to call and ask questions when we have kids. What if I do it all wrong?” “Babe,” I crooned and moved my hands to brush my thumbs across her cheeks. “You’re going to be a great mom whenever we have kids, you won’t do it wrong, and you’ll have my mom there if you have questions.” “I know, and I’ll have Janet. But it won’t be the same.” Her eyes fluttered shut when a few tears dropped down her face and into her hair. “They were supposed to be here for everything.” “I’m so sorry, Rachel.” Squeezing myself between her and the back of the couch, I turned her and pulled her against my chest. I hadn’t known what to expect just then, but I had no idea she’d been struggling with not having her parents here for all of this, and felt like a jackass for not knowing. I should have known. “I’m sorry they aren’t here, but you have a lot of people who love you and are here for you. They won’t make up for your parents, I know that, and so do they. But they’re here for you, and I’m always here for you.” She nodded against my chest and took a shuddering breath in. “And you never leave when you’re upset. Okay? We always talk things out.” “ ’Kay.” Kissing

Grabbing the bowl with both hands, I stepped right up behind him, reached my arms up high, and tipped it over. The sense of glee I got as I watched his entire body stiffen and all that batter fall onto his head was kind of alarming. No wonder he’d been so proud of his suction-cup hickey. I was damn proud of this mess. When only a little dribble was falling from the bowl, I brought the bowl away from his head, set it on the counter, and had only taken two steps when he grabbed me around my waist and hauled me back to him. The movement made him lose his footing on the now-slippery tile and we both crashed down to the floor. Quickly getting up on my hands and knees, I slip-crawled a few feet before my legs went out and I fell back to the floor. Kash dragged me back by my legs and I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even attempt to try to crawl away as he flipped me over on my back and slipped toward me until he was covering my body. I laughed harder and wiped at his cheek, which was completely covered. “You, uh, got a little something there.” His eyes were silver as he growled, “Now do you feel better?” “Much!” “I probably deserved that.” “A little bit.” My laughter finally quieted and I smiled widely at him. “Rachel . . .” His voice dropped and the huskiness alone caused my breathing to deepen. When I realized that our bodies were flush, mine started warming again, and my eyelids fluttered shut when he brought one hand up to cup my cheek. When he repeated my name, I could feel his breath against my lips and they parted in anticipation. His hand left my cheek and he leaned closer to whisper in my ear, “Your hickey looks really lonely.” Wait. What?! My eyes flew open just as he wiped a hand covered in batter across my face. “You son of a bitch!” Kash laughed loudly and attempted to move some of the batter so it wasn’t in my eyes. “I will end you,” I said, making him laugh harder. “I hate you.” “Don’t lie, Sour Patch, you love me.” He was joking, I knew he was joking—but my heart still took off at his assumption. Kash must have noticed the change somehow, because he immediately stopped laughing and his gray eyes turned silver. “Rachel?” “I, uh—we should clean this up.” I attempted to slide out from under him, but he kept his weight on me and brought his hand up to my cheek again. I stopped moving beneath him and locked up my body as his gaze held mine. His silver eyes fell over my face as his head inched down, and in the torturous seconds where his lips hovered over mine again, I told myself a dozen times I needed to push him away. But needing and wanting are two completely different things. Kash closed the distance between us and pressed his lips to mine, and in that instant, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged and my body relaxed between him and the tile floor.

WOMAN!” I SHOUTED, and shook Rachel’s bed roughly. “Wake up.” She shot straight up, her eyes wide in panic as she looked around her room before settling them on me. “God, I thought earthquakes had followed me to Texas.” Taking a calming breath, she brushed her wild hair back from her face and scowled at me. “What is wrong with you? And what time is it—seven? Really, Kash?” “Get up and get ready.” “No.” Pulling the covers up past her shoulders, she sank back into the mattress and shut her eyes. Hell. No. “This is your last warning, Rach. Get up.” A single snort was her only reply. “Such a pain in my ass,” I mumbled, and walked to the foot of the bed. Grabbing the bottom of the comforter, I ripped it off the bed and dropped it on the ground. “Oh my God, what if I had been naked?!” I raised an eyebrow and let my gaze run over her body. I wouldn’t have minded. Ah shit, now I was getting hard and the jersey material of these shorts wouldn’t hide that fact. Think about Mrs. Adams and her fake cats. Think about Mrs. Adams and her fake cats! “Moot point; you’re not. Now, get your ass out of bed.” “Give me at least another couple hours. I just went to sleep.” “Not my fault, and you’ve had more than enough chances to get up yourself.” “Kash, please,” she whined. “Don’t whine. It’s not attractive.” Without giving her any more time, I scooped her into my arms and threw her over my shoulder before heading toward her bathroom. A low oompf left her before she began bitching at me. “I am going to gut you, you freakin’ asshole! Seven in the damn morning, what the hell is wrong with you?! Put me down—ugh! Easy, this shit hurts. You have really bony shoulders, has anyone ever told you that?” She gasped when I turned the shower water on. “Put me down right now, Logan Hendricks, or I swear to all that is holy you will regret the day you moved in across from me and almost took my Jeep door off!” “No can do, my little Sour Patch.” Thank God I was still only in my workout shorts. Kicking off my running shoes, I stepped into the large tub and winced when she shrieked. “You evil bastard, let me go!” “You sure have a mouth on you when you wake up.” “I will murder you!” I couldn’t help but smile. She was just so damn cute. “And you’re a little dramatic.” “This water is freezing,” she whined, and I’d bet she was pouting just as bad as Candice usually did. At least her anger was dying down and her fists had stopped pounding on my back. “What did I ever do to you?” “I gave you every opportunity to get yourself ready. You were the one who wouldn’t get out of bed.” “I had barely gone to sleep!” “Rach,” I snorted, “it’s seven in the morning and you left my place at nine last night. Why had you just gone to sleep?” She didn’t answer and stopped wiggling against me. She just hung there, limp. “What—no more threats? No more whining?” Silence. “Woman, I swear to God, if you fell asleep on my damn shoulder . . .” I trailed off when I heard her mumble something. “What’d you say?” “I was afraid to fall back asleep,” she whispered, and my eyes clenched shut. “Ah, Rach.” I slid her awkwardly down my body until she was standing in front of me. I tried to block the water that was directed at her, but little droplets were bouncing off my bare shoulders and hitting her face. She blinked rapidly against them before dropping her head. “Why didn’t you call me or something?” She huffed and shook her head. “What for, Kash? To make you sit there with me in sweats longer? So you could act like what happened yesterday morning didn’t? I don’t need you to babysit me when I’m being ridiculous.” “That’s not ridiculous.

WHEN I WOKE up a few hours later, the apartment was empty, but the coffee table had boxes of Kleenex, cold and allergy medicine, a bottle of water, and a note on it.   Rach, Had to run to the bar to take inventory. Mason’s running errands, call me if you need anything. The rest is in the kitchen. And if you eat my green ones, I will not take pity on you just because you’re sick.           Kash Green ones? I walked into the kitchen and laughed out loud. The counter had four cans of chicken noodle soup, eight Gatorade bottles, and three boxes of Sour Patch Kids on it. I put away everything except for one of the boxes and went back to my makeshift bed on the couch. Kash was either the worst . . . or the absolute best at taking care of someone. Either way, I was falling so in love with that man. And yeah, I ate the green ones. I’d have to remember to hide the other two boxes before he came over again.   Kash

A smile tugged at my lips as I took in Rachel wrapped up in the comforter like a burrito, Kleenex everywhere, a half-empty Gatorade bottle on the floor next to the couch, and an empty box of Sour Patch Kids on the table next to the cold and allergy medicine. I brushed the back of my hand against her forehead, making sure she hadn’t gotten a fever since I’d left her, and she rolled toward me on a groan. “Rach, wake up,” I whispered close to her ear, and let my fingers trail down her cheek. She grumbled again as her eyes slowly cracked open. “Time is it?” “Almost five. You hungry?” Shaking her head, she closed her eyes again. Laughing softly, I kissed her forehead and spoke against it. “It’s probably because you ate the green ones when I told you not to.” Her body went rigid for all of three seconds before she began burrowing herself deeper into the comforter and away from me. My next laugh was louder. “Take some more medicine, and go take a hot shower; the steam will help. I’ll make you soup for when you get out.” As

I had to take a few deep breaths before I could say anything to her. I knew she was just throwing up her shield again, but God, she knew how to piss me off. Leaning close to her on the couch, I matched her stare and held it. “I’ll find out why you have this shield too. But for now . . . drop the attitude, Sour Patch, or I will take you over my knee and spank your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week.” Her

Gözlerimi yumup, "Patch," diye başladım. Kalbim bir ipin ucunda asılıydı sanki. Ağzı, yakıcı bir kanat çırpma hafifliğiyle kulak mememe sürtündü. "Seni seviyorum." Sesi dolambaçsız, şefkatliydi. "Bana eskiden kim olduğumu hatırlatıyorsun. Ve bende yine o adam olma isteği uyandırıyorsun. Şu anda seni kollarımın arasında tutarken, bütün olumsuz duyguları alt edebilir ve bir arada olabilirmişiz gibi geliyor. Eğer kabul edersen seninim.

La salud mental va unida a la perdida de la vida tribal, la desconexión de la naturaleza y de las artes.

Exactly when they pass from the bleak to the fecund isn’t clear. The B road narrows and some oak branches drape the road for a stretch, darkening the interior of the cab. The route then dips, veers west. A turn, a steep ascent later and the outlook changes. Even Gracey is distracted by the carousel of shadow and sunlight upon a wilder earth and upon the windscreen. Not so flat here either. Hills ruffle the skyline and contour the land with smooth undulations. Patches of trees extend into actual woods that you can’t see the far side of from the nearest edge. A buzzard hovers. Then another. Wood pigeons flap for cover beneath them. Tonal shifts emerge. Varieties of cereal crops occult the liverish earth, combed by giants. Odd hay meadows are pebble-dashed with pastel. Hedgerows thicken to spike outwards and suggest internal hoppings and buzzings of minute life. Ancient trees instil repose, austere sentinels drowsing in the corner of fields. Below their muscular branches mooch caramel cows patched with chocolate. Above the vista, the dusty sheets of ashen cloud break apart into cumulus, plump like white cotton. The distinction between back there and here startles Tom. As it did when he came here for the viewings

Service is an action word, a perfect antidote to boredom, loneliness, alienation, and fear. Service can impart the gift of inner peace. Service is the physical expression of thanks to the world, an apt way to appreciate the miracle of life.

I believe passion and persistence are incompatible with, in fact dramatically damaged by, cynicism, apathy, discouragement, and whining (cynicism and whining probably being my two biggest pet peeves). If you are going to be a social crusader, you must eliminate these things from your vocabulary and behavior. They are pernicious. They all kill the spirit of effort. When you use the language of these qualities, it results in an inertia so strong that it creates a strangling atmosphere of powerlessness.

La muerte no es enemigo, señores. Si vamos a luchar contra alguna enfermedad hagámoslo contra la peor de todas: La indiferencia.

Ve lo que los demás no ven. Lo que los demás deciden no ver, por temor, conformismo o pereza. Ver el mundo de forma nueva cada día.

Research has shown that laughter increases the secretion of the natural chemicals, catecholamines and endorphins, that make people feel so peppy and good. It also decreases cortisol secretion and lowers the sedimentation rate, which implies a stimulated immune response. Oxygenation of the blood increases, and residual air in the lungs decreases. Heart rate initially speeds up and blood pressure rises; then the arteries relax, causing heart rate and blood pressure to lower. Skin temperature rises as a result of increased peripheral circulation. Thus, laughter appears to have a positive effect on many cardiovascular and respiratory problems. In addition, laughter has superb muscle relaxant qualities. Muscle physiologists have shown that anxiety and muscle relaxation cannot occur at the same time and that the relaxation response after a hearty laugh can last up to forty-five minutes.

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

I don’t know if I can write about everything afterward. It’s going to sound like I’m trying to be dramatic, but it’s not like that. It isn’t for anyone else. You only fall because your legs stop working. And you don’t fall to your knees, you fall on your ass into a patch of crabgrass like the Idiot of the Year. You scream for your mom because you really think it will bring her back. And when it doesn’t, your skin feels too tight, and your lungs are full of cotton, and you couldn’t call her again if you wanted to. And you don’t get up, and you don’t think up any clever plans, because you’re only waiting to burst like a firecracker and die. It’s the only thing to do. That’s all.

psychologist Dan McAdams conceptualizes generativity as the core of midlife growth, defined as being able to see others as the center of their own worlds, and to care for them as separate beings whose interests and concerns matter as much as our own. Generativity is also rooted in a deepening appreciation of limits and mortality. When we allow the reality of finiteness to penetrate our consciousness, it helps us think about what matters. A generative person imagines a world in which she is no more and strives to create good things that will outlast her. In this sense, a generative mind-set contrasts with the make-believe realm of “endless possibilities” that characterizes the romantic narrative of midlife.

In Patch Adams, we see the missionary life in two related processes. The first we call “living out,” and the second we call “inviting in.” Living out is about what missional people do. Inviting in is about how Sojourners move into our communities. These are the two overarching processes that bring missional people and Sojourners together.

Cultural stories are also cliches. Without the frameworks they provide, people find it hard to know how to live life. We are barraged with competing messages, and in constant danger of mistaking slogans for personal experience. As the psychology Dan McAdams observes "People pick and choose and plagiarize selectively from the many stories and images they find in culture to formulate a narrative identity.

For more than a century, churches and theologians struggled to complete a new interpretation of the Bible and of accepted doctrines—and just when they had almost succeeded in patching up the faith, the monster that was the dark forest appeared. People had to accept the knowledge that many, many intelligent civilizations existed in the universe, and if each civilization had an Adam and an Eve, then the population of Eden must have been about the same as the current population of Earth.