Risk Life And Limb Quotes

Both Matilda and Lavender were enthralled. It was quite clear to them that they were at this moment standing in the presence of a master. Here was somebody who had brought the art of skulduggery to the highest point of perfection, somebody, moreover, who was willing to risk life and limb in pursuit of her calling. They gazed in wonder at this goddess, and suddenly even the boil on her nose was no longer a blemish but a badge of courage.

We risk life and limb and my princely good looks for a spoonful of sweet sock?

Miss Vesper Holly has the digestive talents of a goat and the mind of a chess master. She is familiar with half a dozen languages and can swear fluently in all of them. She understands the use of a slide rule but prefers doing calculations in her head. She does not hesitate to risk life and limb- mine as well as her own. No doubt she has other qualities as yet undiscovered. I hope not.

I know that it's easier to portray a world that's filled with cynicism and anger, where problems are solved with violence. What's a whole lot tougher is to offer alternatives, to present other ways conflicts can be resolved, and to show that you can have a positive impact on your world. To do that, you have to put yourself out on a limb, take chances, and run the risk of being called a do-gooder.

Want to go to West Virginia and risk life and limb with me?" Zane smirked and gave a single nod. "Sounds like fun.

Neither man nor any animal can enjoy life to the full without taking some risks to life or limb.

He possessed active, and I passive fortitude. Give him something to do, and he would do it at the risk of limb, and life, and soul,–he never murmured. Give me something to suffer, to undergo, to submit, and I became at once the hero of submission.

Dauntless traitors crowded the hallway; the Erudite crowd the execution room, but there, they have made a path for me already. Silently they study me as I walk to the metal table in the center of the room. Jeanine stands a few steps away. The scratches on her face show through hastily applied makeup. She doesn’t look at me. Four cameras dangle from the ceiling, one at each corner of the table. I sit down first, wipe my hands off on my pants, and then lie down. The table is cold. Frigid, seeping into my skin, into my bones. Appropriate, perhaps, because that is what will happen to my body when all the life leaves it; it will become cold and heavy, heavier than I have ever been. As for the rest of me, I am not sure. Some people believe that I will go nowhere, and maybe they’re right, but maybe they’re not. Such speculations are no longer useful to me anyway. Peter slips an electrode beneath the collar of my shirt and presses it to my chest, right over my heart. He then attaches a wire to the electrode and switches on the heart monitor. I hear my heartbeat, fast and strong. Soon, where that steady rhythm was, there will be nothing. And then rising from within me is a single thought: I don’t want to die. All those times Tobias scolded me for risking my life, I never took him seriously. I believed that I wanted to be with my parents and for all of this to be over. I was sure I wanted to emulate their self-sacrifice. But no. No, no. Burning and boiling inside me is the desire to live. I don’t want to die I don’t want to die I don’t want to! Jeanine steps forward with a syringe full of purple serum. Her glasses reflect the fluorescent light above us, so I can barely see her eyes. Every part of my body chants it in unison. Live, live, live. I thought that in order to give my life in exchange for Will’s, in exchange for my parents’, that I needed to die, but I was wrong; I need to live my life in the light of their deaths. I need to live. Jeanine holds my head steady with one hand and inserts the needle into my neck with the other. I’m not done! I shout in my head, and not at Jeanine. I am not done here! She presses the plunger down. Peter leans forward and looks into my eyes. “The serum will go into effect in one minute,” he says. “Be brave, Tris.” The words startle me, because that is exactly what Tobias said when he put me under my first simulation. My heart begins to race. Why would Peter tell me to be brave? Why would he offer any kind words at all? All the muscles in my body relax at once. A heavy, liquid feeling fills my limbs. If this is death, it isn’t so bad. My eyes stay open, but my head drops to the side. I try to close my eyes, but I can’t—I can’t move. Then the heart monitor stops beeping.

In filmmaking circles, there is a simple axiom that describes the structure of a great character journey: somebody wants something badly, and goes for it, against all odds. (Another variation is, a person falls into a hole, and tries to get out.) If you think about any movie you’ve ever liked, any character you’ve ever rooted for, it’s because they wanted something you could relate to and they struggled, risking life and limb, to achieve it. What’s true about movies is also true about life: You tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you who you are.

I feel like she's more cut out to be an employee at the inn than a hunter risking life and limb for money, but I'm sure she has her own thoughts on that.

Leaders know that the fruit of life is out on a limb.

wonder how a country so divided can stand?” “We will only stand if we learn to accept and even embrace each other’s differences rather than allow them to divide us. It is a childish fantasy to expect everyone to agree all the time, but how much better to live in a country where one is free to think differently from one’s neighbors, and even one’s government, without risking life and limb.

Everyone loves to hear of such heroic acts not only because they are inspiring but because they are rarer in an increasingly anonymous and isolated society, a world where it is far easier to step over the man in need than to risk life and limb to save him.

I learned regret in the ruins of Tarbfhlaith. I regretted that ambition had ruled my heart instead of affection for my kin. And with the lesson of regret came the gratitude for having life still to move my lips and limbs, and to speak kind words to and embrace those I may not see again on this sweet-smelling earth. I learned that I cannot wait to love what is in my presence, for it or I may well be gone tomorrow. To some, such as Giannon, this lesson poisons the heart with bitterness. But such bitterness has no value and is, in fact, cowardly. For bitterness risks nothing.

Dying was OK because it was sleep and there wasn't no gray ball in death, was there? Was there? She would have to ask somebody about that, somebody she could confide in, and who knew a lot of things, like Sula, for Sula would know or if she didn't she would say something funny that would make it all right. Ooo no, not Sula. Here she was in the midst of it, hating it, scared of it, and again she thought of Sula as though they were still friends and talked things over. That was too much. To lose Jude and not have Sula to talk to about it because it was Sula that he had left her for. Now her thighs were really empty. And it was then that what those women said about never looking at another man made some sense to her, for the real point, the heart of what they said, was the word looked. Not to promise never to make love to another man, not to refuse to marry another man, but to promise and know that she could never afford to look again, to see and accept the way in which their heads cut the air or see moons or tree limbs framed by their necks and shoulders... never to look, for now she could not risk looking - and anyway, so what? For now her thighs were truly empty and dead too and it was Sula who had taken the life from them and Jude who smashed her heart and the both of them who left her with no thighs and no heart just her brain raveling away.

Enough, Aunt Josephine," Jack said, cutting her off, ignoring the stubborn light in her eyes. Oh, she was a Tremont all right, and one of the "mad" Tremonts at that, but she was no longer in charge of this house. He was. And it was about time he took the reins of this manor and ran it as he saw fit. "There will be no next time," he told her. "But Jack, my dear boy--" He rose from Miranda's side. "There will be no next time. For any of you. I have had enough of seeing my friends, my family, let alone the woman I love risk life, limb, and for what?" He paced the room. "There will never be an end to this if something isn't done, so I am ending it. Here and now." "But Jack--" Miranda protested. He swung around on her. "And not a word from you. Do you think I want my wife risking her life on such an improper fashion?" "You love me?" she whispered. "Yes," he barked at her. She grinned up at him. "You want to marry me?" "Should have years ago." He paced back and forth. "I lost you once, Miranda, I shall not lose you again." He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at everyone in the room, daring them to defy him.

Alec was deeply relieved to see Magnus stroll into view, Malcolm at his side, dripping canal water. “Please don’t risk my boyfriend’s life or limbs,” said Magnus. “I am attached to both. Malcolm, please call off your . . . plants and things.” The light died in Shinyun’s hands. Malcolm appraised the nest and then clapped his hands several times, taking turns alternating which hand was on top. With each clap, the vines receded. “Where’s Barnabas?” Alec asked, shaking off the scraps and rubble as he stepped free of the mess. “I encouraged him to leave,” said Magnus. “Subtly.” “How?” asked Alec. Magnus considered. “Maybe not all that subtly.” Malcolm’s face was even more pallid than usual. “This is terrible,” he announced. “I think I may have lost my security deposit.” “You don’t have a security deposit,” Alec reminded him. “You stole that Barnabas guy’s house.” “Oh yes,” said Malcolm, cheering up.

Annie surveyed the boxes of board games stacked on the table. They had everything from Battleship to Cranium to Settlers of Catan, and even a game called Exploding Kittens. If this was a test, she wanted to pass, but she also didn’t want to risk life and limb, knowing how competitive Darcy and Brendon could get. “How about Scruples?” That sounded low risk. Margot grinned. “I like you.” Darcy shook her head. “We should finish with Scruples. I need more wine before I play that game.” Elle laughed. “Charades first?” “Fine.” Darcy dropped her head back against Elle’s thigh. “But we have to pick new teams.” “Normally Brendon and I partner up,” Margot explained. “It’s not safe to put those two”—she nodded at Darcy and Brendon—“on a team together. They’re ruthless.” “I replaced your coffee table, didn’t I?” Darcy arched a brow. “No harm, no foul.” “Brendon fell through the coffee table. It was scarring.” Margot shivered. “I thought we were going to have to drive him to the emergency room.

You have to be lost as a young man,' Michel replied, 'You are not really trying unless you are lost. That is a good sign. I was lost as a young man too.' 'Should I take chances with my life?' Jake continued. 'By all means! Take risks, go out on a limb.' 'But I yearn for solutions.' 'There are no solutions.' 'Then at least some answers.' 'There are no answers!

During some of the darkest days of the American Revolution, a courageous patriot risked life and limb to alert the rebels to the approaching British. This hero rode at breakneck speeds on a rain-slick night through dangerous territory, evading enemy soldiers and brigands to rouse the Americans against the menace at their doors. Paul who? We’re talking about Sybil Ludington, a 16-year-old girl.

Jacob remained by Mollie’s side throughout the night, clinging to her hand as well as to her vow. She wasn’t going to leave him. She’d given her word, and Mollie never broke a promise. He prayed. He tended the cuts she’d suffered from the blackberry brambles when she’d fallen. The vines had grown entangled within a cedar’s branches, and as best he could tell, she’d climbed the tree in order to reach the ripe berries that other pickers had left behind. Unfortunately, the limb she’d shimmied out on had been weak and had broken beneath her weight. “You know, this tree climbing and dropping through busted church floors is going to have to stop after we’re married. My heart won’t be able to take the stress.” He smiled and ran the back of his finger down the smooth line of her cheek. “Not that I expect any dictate I give you to have much effect. My only hope is that you’ll grow to care enough about me that you’ll take pity on me and cease taking unnecessary risks with your life.

Hallie didn't believe she was invulnerable. She was never one of those daredevil types; she knew she could get hurt. What I think she meant was that she was lucky to be on her way to Nicaragua. It was the slowest thing to sink into my head, how happy she was. Happy to be leaving. We'd had one time of perfect togetherness in our adult lives, the year when we were both in college in Tucson-her first year, my last-and living together for the first time away from Doc Homer. That winter I'd wanted to fail a subject just so I could hang back, stay there with her, the two of us walking around the drafty house in sweatshirts and wool socks and understanding each other precisely. Bringing each other cups of tea without having to ask. So I stayed on in Tucson for medical school, instead of going to Boston as I'd planned, and met Carlo in Parasitology. Hallie, around the same time, befriended some people who ran a safehouse for Central American refugees. After that we'd have strangers in our kitchen every time of night, kids scared senseless, people with all kinds of damage. Our life was never again idyllic. I should have seen it coming. Once she and I had gone to see a documentary on the Abraham Lincoln Brigade, which was these Americans who volunteered without our government's blessing to fight against Franco and Hitler in the Spanish Civil War. At that point in U.S. history fascism was only maybe wrong, whereas communism was definitely. When we came home from the movie Hallie cried. Not because of the people who gave up life and limb only to lose Spain to Franco, and not for the ones who came back and were harassed for the rest of their lives for being Reds. The tragedy for Hallie was that there might never be a cause worth risking everything for in our lifetime. She was nineteen years old then, and as she lay blowing her nose and sobbing on my bed she told me this. That there were no real causes left. Now she had one-she was off to Nicaragua, a revolution of co-op farms and literacy crusades-and so I guess she was lucky. Few people know so clearly what they want. Most people can't even think what to hope for when they throw a penny in a fountain. Almost no one really gets the chance to alter the course of human events on purpose, in the exact way they wish for it to be altered.

I can’t believe you know so little about firearms.” “I can’t believe you know so much,” Devonmont countered. “Never seen a woman as keen on guns as you. It’s rather chilling.” “Isn’t it, though?” Jackson put in. “Better watch it, Devonmont. Her ladyship is liable to shoot first and ask questions later if she finds you doing anything she doesn’t approve of.” “I may just take your caution to heart, Pinter.” Devonmont winked at Celia. “Then again, some things are worth risking life and limb for.” Celia looked startled, then cast Jackson a smug smile. With a snort, he drank more ale. Devonmont was really starting to irk him. They all were. “So, Lord Devonmont,” Celia said, turning her back on Jackson, “would you like me to show you the difference between a percussion gun and a flintlock?” “By all means,” Devonmont replied. “Though I can’t promise to remember any of it later, explain away.

More daring, though, was Jung’s uninhibited interest in spiritualism, which by this time had become a controversial topic on both sides of the Atlantic, ever since 1848, when the Fox sisters of Hydesville, New York, discovered they could communicate with the spirit of a dead man. Soon after this, mediums, table turning, floating tambourines, ectoplasmic limbs, and a variety of other otherworldly phenomena became the focus of an international craze; the flood of disincarnate appearances led one investigator to speak of an “invasion of the spirit people.”7 Colorful characters like the Russian medium and mystic Helena Petrovna Blavatsky were involved, but also scientists and philosophers like William James, Oliver Lodge, William Crookes, and Frederick Myers. It is difficult for us today to realize that at the time, many of the most famous men and women in the world were involved in spiritualism, to one degree or another. Thomas Edison, for example, who joined Blavatsky’s Theosophical Society, hoped to be able to record spirits on his “Spirit Phone.” Yet, for all this, the reductionist thought that dominates the academic world today was already securely in place, and Jung was risking his future career by openly advocating the unbiased study of the paranormal.

To live is to risk a broken heart and a broken limb. It’s going where you’ve never ventured, it’s loving without guarantee that you’ll be loved back, it’s tasting, smelling, seeing, touching, and hearing new senses. It’s daring to do what you’re on this planet to do. Only you can decide what that is.

To develop “naturally,” this kind of love requires secrecy and obstruction. The presence of an obstacle to the consummation of romantic love is so essential that in the archetypal courtly romance of Tristan and Iseult, when Tristan and Iseult (who is married to Tristan’s lord, King Mark) finally flee to the wilderness for three years after a risky affair under the King’s nose at court, they live together chastely. When the barrier is removed and romance is finally attainable, it atrophies. Later, romance returns when the lovers are again separated. This strange paradox, in which lovers risk life and limb in order to consummate an affair only to witness the affair fizzle when all obstructions are removed, is not unusual in court love poetry. Unfortunately, the same paradox has become common in modern marriage: passion thrives when love is young, and it especially swells in the face of societal obstruction, rival courters, or external hardships. When parents are disapproving, or there is a social taboo, passionate amor binds the lovers together in direct proportion to the difficulty of conducting the affair. However, when the lovers are together day-after-day and night-after-night, the passion wanes and boredom replaces the professed “love.

Soon after DIVA’s recruitment, Nate had committed the unthinkable operational transgression by sleeping with her. Risking everything. Risking her, his agent’s life. Risking a career that kept him whole and independent, risking the work that defined him. But her blue eyes and edgy temper and wry smile had blinded him. Her ballerina’s body was matchless and responsive. Her passion for her country and her rage at those who coveted power had him in awe of her. And he could still hear the way she said his name—Neyt. Their lovemaking had been drastic, clutching, urgent, guilty. They were professional intelligence officers and both knew how badly they were behaving. Typically, Dominika didn’t care. As a woman, she desired him outside the limits of the agent–case officer relationship. Nate could not—would not—commit to such an arrangement, for he worried about his standing, about operational security, about tradecraft. The irony of the situation was not lost on either of them: The hidebound Russian was more willing to break the rules to feed their passion than was the informal, loose-limbed American. But until she reappeared, until he knew she was still alive, Nate had a new Russian to handle.

That’s the remarkable thing about soldiers. Not only are they willing to fight for their country, they’ll risk life and limb to protect strangers like me, and for no other reason than a sense of duty.

Son, let me tell you something about women. Don’t piss them off under any circumstances. It’s not worth it. You’re risking life and limb over something that probably doesn’t matter in the first place. My advice? If you pissed her off, apologize before she turns your life into a living hell.” It was Luke’s turn to sigh. “Should I really be taking advice from a man who’s never been married?” “Don’t have to jump off the cliff to know you die at the bottom.

I wasn’t supposed to feel anything for a human. But here I was, willing to risk life and limb for this little hellfire of a woman.

No matter that both colds and flu are the work of viruses, not bacteria, and antibiotics can’t touch them. Or that the majority of colds will burn themselves out in days or weeks, without risk to life or limb. As antibiotic resistance becomes an ever more serious problem, the pressure is on doctors to be judicious in their prescribing habits. There’s plenty of room for improvement. In the US in 1998, three-quarters of all the antibiotics doled out by primary care doctors were for five respiratory infections: ear infections, sinusitis, pharyngitis (sore throat), bronchitis and upper respiratory tract infections (URI). Of the 25 million people who went to their doctor about a URI, 30 per cent were prescribed antibiotics. Not so bad, you might think, until you realise that only 5 per cent of URIs are caused by bacteria. The same goes for sore throats; 14 million people were diagnosed with pharyngitis that year, and 62 per cent of them were given antibiotics. Only 10 per cent of them would have had bacterial infections. Overall, around 55 per cent of antibiotic prescriptions given out that year were unnecessary.

Predictably enough, not all of this drug-taking is strictly necessary. America’s public health institute – the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention – estimates that half of the antibiotics prescribed in the US are unnecessary or inappropriate. Many of these prescriptions are for people suffering from colds and flu, desperate for a cure, and granted by doctors too weary to deny them a placatory offering. No matter that both colds and flu are the work of viruses, not bacteria, and antibiotics can’t touch them. Or that the majority of colds will burn themselves out in days or weeks, without risk to life or limb.

But like my young friend said, this is not the way it seems in the beginning. Before things go bad, it's just a night that sounds like a lot of fun. A day that feels like wasting. A risk that looks like something we can likely handle, a limb that'll probably hold our weight. We don't think getting back home will be a problem when we're finished. After all, we're not going far. Not until we're well down the mountain, much too far to pull ourselves easily back up to the top, we realize we've gotten ourselves into a mess. Instead of three or four good ways to get back on our feet, we now have maybe one—or none—none that don't come without a long, hard process, without a good bit of shame

Fortune is not on the side of the faint-hearted.” To live your life to the fullest, start taking more risks and doing the things you fear. Get good at being uncomfortable and stop walking the path of least resistance. Sure, there is a greater chance you will stub your toes when you walk the road less traveled, but that is the only way you can get anywhere. As my wise mother always says, “you cannot get to third base with one foot on second.” Or as André Gide observed, “One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.” The real secret to a life of abundance is to stop spending your days searching for security and to start spending your time pursuing opportunity. Sure, you will meet with your share of failures if you start living more deliberately and passionately. But failure is nothing more than learning how to win. Or as my dad observed one day, “Robin, it’s risky out on a limb. But that’s where all the fruit is.

As a young officer, it is very frustrating," recalls David Silverman. "My tour in Iraq in 2005, 2006-early on, we got a target list by the higher powers that said, 'This person is a bad person, you should take out the bad guy.' We planned, executed and were able to capture this person and turn him into the judicial system for prosecution. And then, literally five months later, the same target package ends up on my desk again. I said, 'Wait a minute, I just risked life and limb to go find this guy.'

Though I’m glad you finally woke up. I was going to give you another five minutes before I risked life and limb to wake you. Unlike Cas, watching you sleep is not something I find all that entertaining.” Casteel watched me sleep? Wait. How long had Kieran been sitting there? “What are you doing in here?” I rasped. “Other than wondering exactly what choices I made in my life that led me to this exact moment?” Kieran asked. My eyes narrowed. “Yes. Other than that.” “Since I figured Delano would like a break and wondered if you might be hungry. I’m hoping that you are because I would like to eat, too.” My stomach immediately decided that yes, it would like some food, and grumbled loudly. “I’ll take that as a yes.

BE WILLING TO GO OUT on a limb with Me. If that is where I am leading you, it is the safest place to be. Your desire to live a risk-free life is a form of unbelief. Your longing to live close to Me is at odds with your attempts to minimize risk. You are approaching a crossroads in your journey. In order to follow Me wholeheartedly, you must relinquish your tendency to play it safe. Let Me lead you step by step through this day. If your primary focus is on Me, you can walk along perilous paths without being afraid. Eventually, you will learn to relax and enjoy the adventure of our journey together. As long as you stay close to Me, My sovereign Presence protects you wherever you go.

For three or four days the men fought the fire, saving the property and effects of the people, yet these white men and women could not tolerate our black Union soldiers, for many of them had formerly been their slaves; and although these brave men risked life and limb to assist them in their distress, men and even women would sneer and molest them whenever they met them.

sometimes very good things happened when you took a risk, when you went out on a limb, and stretched yourself.

The lamp on the main deck casts just enough light to show me the rigging as I climb and I think about the ratline I’m standing on, the section of the shrouds I’m hooked to; the ratline I’m climbing to next. Every step is my whole world. Below me, Giddon emerged on deck, then noticed my movements above. He was standing near the lamp; I watched him separate my shape from the rigging. Surprise crossed his face, then anxiety, then outrage. Then anxiety about his outrage. He does try not to be patronizing, even if he doesn’t always succeed. I watched him fight with himself, waiting to see where his decision would fall. “Hello, Hava,” he finally called up to me. “Hello.” “What are you doing?” “What does it look like I’m doing?” “It looks like you’re climbing the rigging,” he said, “in the pitch dark, completely by yourself.” “Annet’s on watch.” He struggled with that one for a while. “Do you always let someone know?” he finally said. “Before you risk life and limb?” “Why do you ask?” I said. “Do I need your permission?” “Why, indeed,” he said. “Please remember you have my life in your hands, because if you kill yourself, Bitterblue is going to kill me.” “I’m comfortable with that.” “Brat.” “Bully.” Giddon was chuckling. It made me laugh, which was bad for my focus. “Go away,” I said. “I’m trying to concentrate.” “Take care up there, Hava,” he said. “We would be lost without you.

Finding Miss Ona's journal and reading her story was a lesson in dignity. She'd been a person owned by other persons. Yet when faced with the reality of being "gifted" to yet another master, she knew enough about herself and her inherent worth to know she deserved freedom, and risked life and limb to get it. She was barely grown but dared to face an unknown world with all its hostilities, uncertainties, and risks because she believed she deserved to be free. Hers is not a household name, yet she's a personal treasure who inspires me daily, enabling me to face any self-doubt and challenges knowing that I have the strength of the ancients. I am the answer to the fervent prayers for freedom that they prayed. I am their future and I'm here because of forbearers like Ona Judge Staines.

as their deliverer, to the point where they were ready to risk life and limb to reach the lines of the royal army. To

The drive to claim her, protect her, keep her, was so deeply rooted in my mind that there was no shaking it. Here I was slaying monsters for a human. Worrying over a human. Risking life and limb for a human.

You know, something happens to people when they all risk life and limb for the same cause.

One of the defining elements of the human animal is its capacity for abstract visualization. Other creatures are better than us at smelling, biting, hunting, running. We alone can create whole universes in our heads based on nothing more than thought. This is the basis of language, math, science, everything that defines human civilization. It is something monkeys and dolphins will never have. When evolutionary theorists seek to explain how this capacity for abstract thought arose, the story often goes like this Our ancestors, beset by all sorts of deadly horrors in the African savannah, needed some way to anticipate risks before the moment those risks jumped out of the bushes, red in tooth and claw. So began the slow process by which the neural networks in our head, under pressure from the ruthless mechanism of natural selection, created the means to model risk before the risk manifested itself. What would happen if I went to forage for berries in that field and a lion appeared? Would I be able to make it to the protection of that outcropping? How many berries would I be able to get? How hungry am I? Is it worth the risk? Out of these habits of mind grew the whole mental apparatus by which we play out life scenarios as a game within our mind, before putting life and limb on the line in a true sense. The relationship between board games and real life is in some ways close.

Despite the gaps between the two sides’ positions, Sadat’s trip was nonetheless of monumental importance. For the first time, Israelis saw an Arab leader who was charming, well dressed, soft-spoken, clearly wanted peace, and was willing to risk life and limb for it. Perceptions in Egypt changed as well. The people had been impressed by the welcome extended their leader by the Israelis. The Arab press refrained from traditional demonizations of the Zionist enemy and began analyzing the situation with a cooler head.

The beach was such a novel experience that most were completely unfamiliar with the health hazards—and risks to life and limb—it posed.” —Gideon Bosker and Lena Lencek, The Beach: The History of Paradise on Earth

It’s why action and adventure athletes routinely risk life and limb for their sports and why spiritual ascetics willingly trade creature comforts for a chance to glimpse God.

But what Ejnar said next startled us. “We fought for Denmark’s glory,” he repeated. “But we found only disgrace. We willingly risked life and limb, and showed undaunted courage, to save the honor of our country. But thanks to a lousy leader, we lost it. I’ll never forget how those cannonballs hailed down on us on Maundy Thursday. How we fought and fell and died in smoke and flames, and how that evening we were carted off to Eckernförde like slaves and locked up in God’s house. How we lay there on the straw, exhausted and dazed. I won’t forget how the Christian the Eighth was blown up and how so many poor souls died; how on Good Friday we were marched to Rendsburg, to another church, and how again we had to sleep on straw and eat stale bread for our Easter lunch. How the house of God became a cage for slaves, full of degradation and blasphemy, and how our captivity was a stretch of dark, miserable days. I’ll never forget any of that, as long as I live.

That sodding Sandwich Commando only gave me half a mug of char,' Reg grumbled, as he plonked himself down beside Jack and started eating. 'I ask you, what's this world coming to when a man who is about to risk life and limb for King and Country can't even get a decent brew?' 'You shouldn't get yourself so worked up, it's bad for your health,' Donald said, as he sat eating his stew. 'Bad for my health?' Reg exclaimed, a look of wonder on his face as he stared at Donald. 'I'll tell you what's bad for your health: Germans.