Rachel Scott Quotes

What if you were to die today... Tomorrow is not a promise but a chance.

Don't let your character change color with your environment. Find out who you are and let it stay its true color.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like a family,' thought Julia, as she watched Rachel and Scott hug their father. 'Where love and forgiveness replace tears and suffering

A friend is someone who can brighten your day with a simple smile, when others try to do it with a thousand words.

God is going to use me to reach the young people, I don’t know how, I don’t know when.

I write Not For the sake of glory Not For the sake of fame Not For the sake of success But for the sake of my soul

These are the hands of Rachel Joy Scott and one day, will touch millions of people's hearts.

I am not going to apologize for speaking the name of Jesus... If I have to sacrifice everything... I will.

This will be my last year, Lord. I have gotten what I can. Thank You.

Eternity is not just looking to the future and our place with God in Heaven, but it is looking at our Eternity as if it were only moments away.

What is life when living without the Lifemaker?

I've never seen them happier than when they'd lost everything and found each other and a faith in something greater than themselves.

The sight that really stunned him was outside, on the sidewalk and the lawn. Danny Rohrbough and Rachel Scott were still out there. No one had even covered them.

There’s a great episode of The Office in which this strategy lands Michael Scott and Dwight Schrute in a lake during a sales trip, Michael shouting, “The machine knows!” as he follows the GPS instructions and drives his SUV off the road into the water. I’ve watched a lot of good people drive their lives, their families, their churches, their communities, even their countries into a lake, shouting, “The Bible knows!” all the way down.

Desiring is a part of dreaming.

One day at a time – this is enough. Do not look back and grieve over the past for it is gone; and do not be troubled about the future, for it has not yet come. Live in the present, and make it so beautiful it will be worth remembering. Ida Scott Taylor

I write not for the sake of glory. Not for the sake of fame. Not of the sake of success. But for the sake of my soul.

If we can limit the unproductive interactions, we will be able to better focus on productive ones.

What you say is what you believe, and what you believe is what you BECOME!

It didn’t matter what good I could accomplish. I could change my name. My identity. But at the end of the day, I’d always be the mobster’s daughter.

brittle air. Rachel slid her machete from its canvas sheath, but the crow veered wildly and then rejoined the broken formation heading south toward the distant city

fire. A blood-chilling caw cracked the brittle air. Rachel slid her machete from its canvas sheath, but the crow veered wildly and then rejoined the broken formation heading south toward the distant city of mutants.

He didn’t want to fall into love, tripping, grappling for purchase. No, he wanted to step into it, footing sure, eyes open. Knowing full well who she was, and choosing her not despite it, but because of it. For who she was made her the beautiful soul he craved.

One of the problems that people commonly have in their adult relationships if they have never received a firm commitment from their parents is the “I’ll desert you before you desert me” syndrome. This syndrome will take many forms or disguises. One form was Rachel’s frigidity. Although it was never on a conscious level, what Rachel’s frigidity was expressing to her husband and previous boyfriends was, “I’m not going to give myself to you when I know damn well that you’re going to dump me one of these days.” For Rachel, “letting go,” sexually or otherwise, represented

Sublime Books The Known World, by Edward P. Jones The Buried Giant, by Kazuo Ishiguro A Thousand Trails Home, by Seth Kantner House Made of Dawn, by N. Scott Momaday Faithful and Virtuous Night, by Louise Glück The Left Hand of Darkness, by Ursula K. Le Guin My Sentence Was a Thousand Years of Joy, by Robert Bly The World Without Us, by Alan Weisman Unfortunately, It Was Paradise, by Mahmoud Darwish Collected Fictions, by Jorge Luis Borges, trans. Andrew Hurley The Xenogenesis Trilogy, by Octavia E. Butler Map: Collected and Last Poems, by Wisława Szymborska In the Lateness of the World, by Carolyn Forché Angels, by Denis Johnson Postcolonial Love Poem, by Natalie Diaz Hope Against Hope, by Nadezhda Mandelstam Exhalation, by Ted Chaing Strange Empire, by Joseph Kinsey Howard Tookie’s Pandemic Reading Deep Survival, by Laurence Gonzales The Lost City of the Monkey God, by Douglas Preston The House of Broken Angels, by Luis Alberto Urrea The Heartsong of Charging Elk, by James Welch Selected Stories of Anton Chekhov, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating, by Elisabeth Tova Bailey Let’s Take the Long Way Home, by Gail Caldwell The Aubrey/Maturin Novels, by Patrick O’Brian The Ibis Trilogy, by Amitav Ghosh The Golden Wolf Saga, by Linnea Hartsuyker Children of Time, by Adrian Tchaikovsky Coyote Warrior, by Paul VanDevelder Incarceration Felon, by Reginald Dwayne Betts Against the Loveless World, by Susan Abulhawa Waiting for an Echo, by Christine Montross, M.D. The Mars Room, by Rachel Kushner The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander This Is Where, by Louise K. Waakaa’igan I Will Never See the World Again, by Ahmet Altan Sorrow Mountain, by Ani Pachen and Adelaide Donnelley American Prison, by Shane Bauer Solitary, by Albert Woodfox Are Prisons Obsolete?, by Angela Y. Davis 1000 Years of Joys and Sorrows, by Ai Weiwei Books contain everything worth knowing except what ultimately matters. —Tookie * * * If you are interested in the books on these lists, please seek them out at your local independent bookstore. Miigwech! Acknowledgments

All Summer in a Day” by Ray Bradbury Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo Big Nate series by Lincoln Peirce The Black Cauldron (The Chronicles of Prydain) by Lloyd Alexander The Book Thief  by Markus Zusak Brian’s Hunt by Gary Paulsen Brian’s Winter by Gary Paulsen Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson Bud, Not Buddy by Christopher Paul Curtis The Call of the Wild by Jack London The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White The Chronicles of Narnia series by C. S. Lewis Diary of a Wimpy Kid series by Jeff Kinney Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury The Giver by Lois Lowry Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling Hatchet by Gary Paulsen The High King (The Chronicles of Prydain) by Lloyd Alexander The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien Holes by Louis Sachar The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins I Am LeBron James by Grace Norwich I Am Stephen Curry by Jon Fishman Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell Johnny Tremain by Esther Hoskins Forbes Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson LeBron’s Dream Team: How Five Friends Made History by LeBron James and Buzz Bissinger The Lightning Thief  (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) by Rick Riordan A Long Walk to Water by Linda Sue Park The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle Number the Stars by Lois Lowry The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton The River by Gary Paulsen The Sailor Dog by Margaret Wise Brown Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan Shiloh by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor “A Sound of Thunder” by Ray Bradbury Star Wars Expanded Universe novels (written by many authors) Star Wars series (written by many authors) The Swiss Family Robinson by Johann D. Wyss Tales from a Not-So-Graceful Ice Princess (Dork Diaries) by Rachel Renée Russell Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing by Judy Blume “The Tell-Tale Heart” by Edgar Allan Poe Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt Under the Blood-Red Sun by Graham Salisbury The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle

The end of the world had taught Rachel Wheeler many lessons, but the most recent one was this: Running for your life was a bitch when you only had one leg. She tightened the moist, stained bandana that kept the worst of the leaking to a minimum, then hobbled forward another ten feet. The wild dog that had bitten her could have inflicted any number of infections, but it wasn’t like she could hobble into the ER and

Yesterday—sensible, clearheaded, right-thinking—I decided I must accept that my part in this story was over. But my better angels lost again, defeated by drink, by the person I am when I drink. Drunk Rachel sees no consequences, she is either excessively expansive and optimistic or wrapped up in hate. She has no past, no future. She exists purely in the moment. Drunk Rachel—wanting to be part of the story, needing a way to persuade Scott to talk to her—she lied. I lied.

God is offering us a contract. He says that if certain terms are accepted, he will provide a certain result. Guaranteed. The main item to be accepted is Jesus." Ashby took a drink of his margarita and shrugged. "Now," Rachel continued, "anyone who does not accept Jesus is making a counter offer to God, changing the terms of God's contract. So is there an agreement? No. Not unless God accepts those changes." "Will he?" Ashby asked. "I don't know. No one does. Every Christian, including me, is acting as an agent for God. An agent cannot change the material terms of the contract. If someone wants to make a counter offer, there is no way I can say he has reached an agreement with God. But I can say that if you meet God's terms, you definitely will have an agreement. And that leaves the ball strictly in your court.

ANNA •   •   • SATURDAY, AUGUST 10, 2013 MORNING I drove to the gym in Northcote for my spin class this morning, then dropped into the Matches store on the way back and treated myself to a very cute Max Mara minidress (Tom will forgive me once he sees me in it). I was having a perfectly lovely morning, but as I parked the car there was some sort of commotion outside the Hipwells’ place—there are photographers there all the time now—and there she was. Again! I could hardly believe it. Rachel, barrelling past a photographer, looking rough. I’m pretty sure she’d just left Scott’s house. I didn’t even get upset. I was just astounded. And when I brought it up with Tom—calmly, matter-of-factly—he was just as baffled as I was. “I’ll get in touch with her,” he said. “I’ll find out what’s going on.” “You’ve tried that,” I said as gently as I could. “It doesn’t make any difference.” I suggested that maybe it was time to take legal advice, to look into getting a restraining order or something. “She isn’t actually harassing us, though, is she?” he said. “The phone calls have stopped, she hasn’t approached us or come to the house. Don’t worry about it, darling. I’ll sort it.” He’s right, of course, about the harassment thing. But I don’t care. There’s something up, and I’m not prepared to just ignore it. I’m tired of being told not to worry. I’m tired of being told that he’ll sort things out, that he’ll talk to her, that eventually she’ll go away. I think the time has come to take matters into my own hands. The next time I see her, I’m calling that police officer—the woman, Detective Riley. She seemed nice, sympathetic. I know Tom feels sorry for Rachel, but honestly I think it’s time I dealt with that bitch once and for all.

I heard sad choirs in my mind. There was nothing left of Rachel in the world. He cherished what he'd shown me, and now it was gone. Eureka.

SeaStar staff person who’d

know our change in direction,” Red instructed.

version of Amber.

I won't be labeled as 'average.

shimmered behind the clouds as if the black birds were swimming against a frothy tide. The hardwood trees on the surrounding Appalachian slopes were gone to gold and scarlet, and the strange light hinted at the gray winter waiting ahead. One of the crows turned, and its eyes flashed with fire. A blood-chilling caw cracked the brittle air. Rachel slid her

It strikes me that the people who crowded around to help midwife St. Lydia's into being all had something in common. Each had the gift of seeing something that was coming, but had not yet arrived. Rachel could take a scrap of possibility--the rope that hung limp from a bucket--and notice that it was beautiful. Pastor Phil had the same gift, only he saw possibility in people. He was the kind of pastor who saw something true about you before you could see it yourself... This capacity--in an artist, a pastor, a parent, a prophet--is deeply tied to the work of God.

And now this. Scott wants to hurt me – either emotionally, physically or both – and I bang the heel of my hand on the steering wheel. How dare he? If it hadn’t been for Scott and my desire to help him, my life would have been so different.

Said Leah, 'How do children learn if they aren't punished when they do wrong?' 'They are punished,' said Jacob 'Just not alOrways in obvious ways. When you're wicked, then Wisdom departs from you. You become more and more like an animal--like the baboons of the wilderness, or like a jackal. But when you're righteous, Wisdom dwells with you like a dear friend, and whispers always in your ear.

I reached for my purse which I’d hung on the back of the chair.  Desperate, Scott moved to grab my hand.  Clay stood abruptly.  He successfully knocked Scott’s hand out of the way but also bumped the table in the process.  Peter reached out to steady his and Rachel’s drinks, and I hurried to pull a twenty from my purse. The waitress returned with the bill and the wrapped up leftovers.  Since Rachel was still digging in her purse, I just handed the waitress the twenty after a quick glance at the bill.  I was willing to pay for Rachel if it helped us leave faster. “I better drive her home,” Rachel said to Peter.  “You have my number.  Give me a call if you want to do something next weekend.” I stood, and Rachel shadowed me, ready to go.  Clay bumped into me, knocking me off balance so I had to grab Rachel for support.  I looked down at him and noticed Scott stand and hand the waitress his portion of the bill. “Rachel, you can stay with Peter.  I don’t mind taking Gabby home,” Scott said.  Oily enthusiasm dripped with each word, and I didn’t even need to look at Rachel for her to decline. “No, Scott, I think we’re done for tonight.”  She waved to Peter and grabbed my hand. Poor Peter looked at us all, bewildered.  His night out with Rachel had fallen apart fast, and I truly felt bad about it. I went with Rachel, relieved to escape before Scott’s recklessness grew.  An “oof” sounded behind us, and I panicked, realizing I’d forgotten Clay.  I spun around in time to see Scott hit the ground.  He’d tripped over Clay in his hurry to catch me.  I suspected Clay had done it purposely to slow Scott down. Clay wasted no time.  He ran to me and bumped his head against my back to get me moving before Scott could pick himself up again.  There wasn’t yet enough distance between the table and us to mute Peter’s next words. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?  You come on too...”  What he still had to say faded as we quickly walked away. “I’m sorry,” Rachel said.  “You told me, but I didn’t really get it.  Even the men sitting around us were eyeing you.” I’d been too busy keeping an eye on Scott and Clay to notice.  We continued to speed walk to the car. “No big deal.  You should see me in some of my classes.  ‘No’ is the most common word in my vocabulary. Scott’s reaction was worse than most because he already considered me his date.  If you say ‘no’, consistently and to everyone, it doesn’t get so bad.

Nerves or alcoholism? When at last he looked me directly in the eyes, I saw

In the days prior to that meeting, Scott was in New York City with Bill Nojay. They were in a meeting with real estate mogul Donald Trump and Republican Party chairs to get Trump to consider running for governor (the meeting led to Trump’s decision to run for president).16

Can Rachel and her fellow survivors make the dangerous journey to Milepost 291 and evade the Zapheads long enough to form a new society and preserve the human race?

True security lies in heaven, where things can't be touched by evil and can't be destroyed.

Last week he’d blindly said he’d fallen in love with her. A phrasing he no longer cared for. He didn’t want to fall into love, tripping, grappling for purchase. No, he wanted to step into it, footing sure, eyes open.

I had a heart that’d been built to outlast earthquakes, withstand stormy seas, but to stare into the eyes of a man I could never have? That was pain beyond recovery.

And if Rhett had to pose as the smitten beau for the sake of this case, he’d give it his all. Though he couldn’t say the same for Kate, who right now—with her closed posture and downturned mouth—appeared as affectionate as his partially-bald cat. At least Kate hadn’t hissed at him. Yet.

why he thinks Scott Roberts is dead. Also,

kills billions. While the remaining humans are struggling to adapt and survive, they notice that some among them have... changed. Rachel Wheeler finds herself alone in the city, where violent survivors known as "Zapheads" roam the streets, killing and destroying. Her only hope is to reach the mountains, where her grandfather, a legendary survivalist, established a compound in preparation for Doomsday.

dotted line on the map that promised few houses and even fewer murderous mutants. The bite wound on Rachel’s left calf had gotten steadily worse, passing from mere red irritation to a festering purple mess. The stuff coming out of it now was more pus than blood, and although she’d packed it with antibiotic ointment she’d found in an abandoned farmhouse, the infection had now caused a mild fever. And a fiery volcano of agony with each step. She’d lost the pistol DeVontay had given her, but she’d found another in the house they’d slept in two nights before. It was heavy and

What had Allison forbidden Rachel to tell him?

Forgivness is not just for the offender. It is also for the one who is offended. If we do not forgive, we end up in perpetual anger and bitterness and eventually offend others with our words or actions. If we forgive, we experience a "letting go" or cleansing process that frees us from the offender.

Too many people try to find security and significance in too many places. They look in relationships; they look in popularity; they look in money and possessions. But these are all detours and dead ends.

That's the best place for light to enter. Scars may be present. But it's how we view them which makes the difference. They can be a reminder of defeat, or that our failures weren't bigger than our God.

looking more and more attractive, but he’d

You need to take Joe back to Tinker,” Rachel said.  “He’s a virologist and has an idea the Colonel needs to hear.” “No way he’s a virologist.  Really?”  Scott blurted. “Fuck you, white man!”  Joe bristled.  “You think I can’t have an education because I’m an Indian?” Scott barked out a laugh. "Relax, dude.  I don't give a shit if you're Indian or not.  I just can't believe that we find the last guy alive in the middle of nowhere at the end of the world and he happens to be a fucking virologist.  What are the chances?  It's like something out of a third rate zombie novel.

Crows lined the crumbling and contaminated road that led to Stonewall. As Rachel Wheeler approached, they lifted one by one against the hazy October sky. A muted lime-green aurora shimmered behind the clouds as if the black birds were swimming against a frothy tide. The hardwood trees on the surrounding Appalachian slopes were gone to gold and scarlet, and the strange light hinted at the gray winter waiting ahead. One of the crows turned, and its eyes flashed with fire. A blood-chilling caw cracked the brittle air. Rachel slid her machete from its canvas sheath, but the crow veered wildly and then rejoined the broken formation heading south toward the distant city of mutants.

DeVontay touched his left eye and wiggled the glass prosthetic. “You got that right. My depth perception is for the birds.” “That wasn’t funny even before Doomsday. Now it’s just sad.” “You didn’t marry me for my wit.” “We’re not married yet, remember. All the priests seem to be either dead or Zap.” DeVontay shouldered his M16 and caught up with her so they could walk side by side. He took her slim right hand with his left and gave it a squeeze. “Living in sin is okay with me.” Rachel squinted up at the hidden sun and whatever force, if any, lay

periwinkle flowers. Here and there were gravel turnouts that led up to blank and brooding houses, but neither Rachel nor DeVontay were inclined to stop and explore them. Experience suggested such places were more likely to harbor danger than supplies. Not that the open road was much safer, but at least their options were more appealing—fight or flight rather than fight or die. “I thought you were done with that philosophical stuff,” DeVontay said. “I’m done with asking why, but not with wondering what’s next.” Rachel scanned the surrounding vegetation

this was looking like her final hour. They’d not seen a Zaphead for two days, ever since leaving the highway and taking the Old Turnpike Road, a winding dotted line on the map that promised few houses and even fewer murderous mutants. The bite wound on Rachel’s left calf had gotten steadily worse, passing from

You just let a wonderful flame go past you and into the hands of another. Let this be known, child, that when you do not follow through with the boldness and knowledge I have given you, more than one person is affected by it. You are as well as them.

I write not for the sake of glory. Not for the sake of fame. Not for the sake of success. But for the sake of my soul.

the crows turned, and its eyes flashed with fire. A blood-chilling caw cracked the brittle air. Rachel slid her machete from its canvas sheath, but the crow veered wildly and then rejoined the broken formation heading south toward the distant city of mutants. DeVontay Jones chuckled

That would be the... Blue Moon Over Brooklyn?” “Yeah. All the names here are kinda dumb.” The man pointed a long finger at Kip's name tag. “I like your name.” Kip glanced at his own name on the tag, as if he didn't know what it said. Like an idiot.

I know you hated that guy.” “Hate is a strong word,” Scott said. “A strong, accurate word.

There was an urgency in Scott’s eyes, but when he finally leaned in and kissed Kip, it was slow and deliberate. It wasn’t a conversation; it was Scott telling him something important, and making sure Kip was listening.