Piper Wheel Quotes

Like me, he had decided that Piper McLean would not die tonight. For some reason, he had decided that I must live too. He yelled again, 'GO! Remember!' (...) While Jason's back was turned, Caligula wheeled about. He threw his spear, driving its point between Jason's shoulder blades. Piper screamed. Jason stiffened, his blue eyes wide in shock.

I think this is an awfully immoral job of ours. I do, really. Think how we spoil the digestions of the public.” “Ah, yes—but think how earnestly we strive to put them right again. We undermine ’em with one hand and build ’em with the other. The vitamins we destroy in the canning, we restore in Revito, the roughage we remove from Peabody’s Piper Parritch we make up into a package and market as Bunbury’s Breakfast Bran; the stomachs we ruin with Pompayne, we re-line with Peplets to aid digestion. And by forcing the damn-fool public to pay twice over—once to have its food emasculated and once to have the vitality put back again, we keep the wheels of commerce turning and give employment to thousands—including you and me.

Like me, he had decided that Piper McLean would not die tonight. For some reason, he had decided that I must live too. He yelled again, 'GO! Remember!' (...) While Jason's back was turned, Caligula wheeled about. He threw his spear, driving its point between Jason's shoulder blades. Piper screamed. Jason stiffened, his blue eyes wide in shock.

While Jason’s back was turned, Caligula wheeled about. He threw his spear, driving its point between Jason’s shoulder blades. Piper screamed. Jason stiffened, his blue eyes wide in shock. He slumped forward, wrapping his arms around Tempest’s neck. His lips moved, as if he was whispering something to his steed. Carry him away! I prayed, knowing that no god would listen. Please, just let Tempest get him to safety! Jason toppled from his steed. He hit the deck facedown, the spear still in his back, his gladius clattering from his hand. Incitatus trotted up to the fallen demigod. Arrows continued to rain around us. Caligula stared at me across the chasm—giving me the same displeased scowl my father used to before inflicting one of his punishments: Now look what you’ve made me do. “I warned you,” Caligula said. Then he glanced at the pandai above. “Leave Apollo alive. He’s no threat. But kill the girl.” Piper howled, shaking with impotent rage. I stepped in front of her and waited for death, wondering with cold detachment where the first arrow might strike. I watched as Caligula plucked out his spear, then drove it again into Jason’s back, removing any last hope that our friend might still be alive.

I also gleaned that just about all of the women in Chicago were on pretrial status—their cases had not yet been resolved, but they did not or could not make bail. So they were captive here while the wheels of justice ground. A couple of them had been here for months without being charged with a crime. This made their lives uncertain on every level, and those who were not already crazy were acting pretty wacko, driven nuts by rage and instability.

Bredon shuddered. “I think this is an awfully immoral job of ours. I do, really. Think how we spoil the digestions of the public.” “Ah, yes—but think how earnestly we strive to put them right again. We undermine ’em with one hand and build ’em with the other. The vitamins we destroy in the canning, we restore in Revito, the roughage we remove from Peabody’s Piper Parritch we make up into a package and market as Bunbury’s Breakfast Bran; the stomachs we ruin with Pompayne, we re-line with Peplets to aid digestion. And by forcing the damn-fool public to pay twice over—once to have its food emasculated and once to have the vitality put back again, we keep the wheels of commerce turning and give employment to thousands—including you and me.

We undermine ’em with one hand and build ’em up with the other. The vitamins we destroy in the canning, we restore in Revito, the roughage we remove from Peabody’s Piper Parritch we make up into a package and market as Bunbury’s Breakfast Bran; the stomachs we ruin with Pompagne, we re-line with Peplets to aid digestion. And by forcing the damn-fool public to pay twice over – once to have its food emasculated and once to have the vitality put back again, we keep the wheels of commerce turning and give employment to thousands – including you and me.

That God uses the whole creation, in his government of it, for the good of his people, is most elegantly represented in Deuteronomy 33:26. "There is none like unto the God of Jeshurun,84 who rideth upon the heaven." The whole universe is a machine or chariot which God hath made for his own use, as is represented in Ezekiel's vision. God's seat is heaven, where he sits and governs, Ezekiel 1:22, 26-28. The inferior part of the creation, this visible universe, subject to such continual changes and revolutions, are the wheels of the chariot. God's providence, in the constant revolutions, alterations, and successive events, is represented by the motion of the wheels of the chariot, by the Spirit of him who sits on his throne on the heavens or above the firmament. Moses tells us for whose sake it is that God moves the wheels of this chariot or rides in it, sitting in his heavenly seat, and to what end he is making his progress or goes his appointed journey in it, viz. the salvation of his people.

[gospel is that the] right and proper judgment of God against our rebellion has not been overturned; it has been exhausted, embraced in full by the eternal Son of God himself. . . . God uses words in the service of his intention to rescue men and women, drawing them into fellowship with him and preparing a new creation as an appropriate venue for the enjoyment of that fellowship. In other words, the knowledge of God that is the goal of God's speaking ought never to be separated from the centerpiece of Christian theology; namely, the salvation of sinners. This is certainly not elementary theologizing, but a grounding of even the very philosophy and understanding of human language in the gospel. The Word of the Lord (as we see in Jonah 1:1) is never abstract theologizing, but is a life-changing message about the severity and mercy of God. Why is this so important? First, in a time in which there is so much ignorance of the basic Christian worldview, we have to get to the core of things, the gospel, every time we speak. Second, the gospel of salvation doesn't really relate to theology like the first steps relate to the rest of the stairway but more like the hub relates through the spokes to the rest of the wheel. The gospel of a glorious, other-oriented triune God giving himself in love to his people in creation and redemption and re-creation is the core of every doctrine--of the Bible, of God, of humanity, of salvation, of ecclesiology, of eschatology. However, third, we must recognize that in a postmodern society where everyone is against abstract speculation, we will be ignored unless we ground all we say in the gospel. Why? The postmodern era has produced in its citizens a hunger for beauty and justice. This is not an abstract culture, but a culture of story and image. The gospel is not less than a set of revealed propositions (God, sin, Christ, faith), but it is more. It is also a narrative (creation, fall, redemption, restoration.) Unfortunately, there are people under the influence of postmodernism who are so obsessed with narrative rather than propositions that they are rejecting inerrancy, are moving toward open theism, and so on. But to some extent they are reacting to abstract theologizing that was not grounded in the gospel and real history. They want to put more emphasis on the actual history of salvation, on the coming of the kingdom, on the importance of community, and on the renewal of the material creation. But we must not pit systematic theology and biblical theology against each other, nor the substitutionary atonement against the kingdom of God. Look again at the above quote from Mark Thompson and you will see a skillful blending of both individual salvation from God's wrath and the creation of a new community and material world. This world is reborn along with us--cleansed, beautified, perfected, and purified of all death, disease, brokenness, injustice, poverty, deformity. It is not just tacked on as a chapter in abstract "eschatology," but is the only appropriate venue for enjoyment of that fellowship with God brought to us by grace through our union with Christ.

When the Bible uses the term heart, it means the causal core of your personhood. The heart is your directional system. The heart is your steering wheel. Your behavior isn’t caused by the situations and relationships outside of you. This passage teaches that your experiences influence, but do not determine, your behavior. Your behavior is shaped and caused by how your heart reacts to and interacts with the situations and relationships that are outside of you.

It would be easier to cover your ears,” I suggested. Meg retracted her blades. She rummaged through her supplies while the rumble of the chariot’s wheels got faster and closer. “Hurry,” I said. Meg ripped open a pack of seeds. She sprinkled some in each of her ear canals, then pinched her nose and exhaled. Tufts of bluebonnets sprouted from her ears. “That’s interesting,” Piper said. “WHAT?” Meg shouted. Piper shook her head. Never mind. Meg offered us bluebonnet seeds. We both declined. Piper, I guessed, was naturally resistant to other charmspeakers. As for me, I did not intend to get close enough to be Medea’s primary target. Nor did I have Meg’s weakness—a conflicted desire, misguided but powerful, to please her stepfather and reclaim some semblance of home and family—which Medea could and would exploit. Besides, the idea of walking around with lupines sticking out of my ears made me queasy. “Get ready,” I warned. “WHAT?” Meg asked. I pointed at Medea’s chariot, now charging toward us out of the gloom. I traced my finger across my throat, the universal sign for kill that sorceress and her dragons. Meg summoned her swords. She charged the sun dragons as if they were not ten times her size. Medea yelled with what sounded like real concern, “Move, Meg!” Meg charged on, her festive ear protection bouncing up and down like giant blue dragonfly wings. Just before a head-on collision, Piper shouted, “DRAGONS, HALT!” Medea countered, “DRAGONS, GO!” The result: chaos not seen since Plan Thermopylae. The beasts lurched in their harnesses, Right Dragon charging forward, Left Dragon stopping completely. Right stumbled, pulling Left forward so the two dragons crashed together. The yoke twisted and the chariot toppled sideways, throwing Medea across the pavement like a cow from a catapult. Before the dragons could recover, Meg plunged in with her double blades. She beheaded Left and Right, releasing from their bodies a blast of heat so intense my sinuses sizzled. Piper ran forward and yanked her dagger from the dead dragon’s eye. “Good job,” she told Meg. “WHAT?” Meg asked.

In his new activism, Mike’s long background in oil became a great asset. He knew the geology. He knew the economics. He knew the local lay of the land. He’d gained firsthand knowledge of dangerous chemicals. As a child he had crouched in the sugarcane field to watch the Piper Cub crop dusters fly low, their wheels nearly leafing through the tops of the cane stalks. After the pilot had sprayed DDT clouds and started to rise at the end of the row, Mike would pop up from the cane into the pesticide cloud to watch the plane turn for another pass. He knew about unawareness. But what was new for Mike was a close-up view of the politics—especially the attitude toward the environment expressed by Republican governor Bobby Jindal.

Men often came to visit in the evening when the fire was burning in the hearth. Occasionally came Peter Laurenz the blacksmith, Paul Joachim the mason, Adam the linen weaver, Zacharias the tavern keeper, Mathias, Norbert, Jakob, and others. When there was a spinning bee at Witiko's house, maidens and weavers came with their spinning wheels to take part; some young men and youths also showed up such as Phillip the stirrup maker, Maz Albrecht, rosy cheeked Urban, Laurenz the blacksmith's cousin, Veit Gregor, Lambert the drummer, Wolfgang, Andreas, Augustin the piper and several others. At times the maidens sang, then the youths, then together or alternating stanzas. They always went home at the ninth hour.

It's cheaper to drive on long trips with two children than it is to fly, so that's how my family usually travels. Inevitably, about an hour into an eight-hour drive, one of our daughters asks, "Are we there yet?" It's as if kids don't notice that we're driving freeway speeds with no sign of stopping. Christians live "Are we there yet?" lives. In its entirety, life is a state of traveling toward a destination. We are pursuing holiness and growth. We are seeking to become more like Christ, to live lives that reflect and honor God. But we live in a fallen state marked by sin. It often feels as if we are spinning our wheels rather than making progress, the same way children feel in the backseat.