Spencer Hays Quotes

No hay necesidad alguna de supercomplicar las cosas o de confundirse uno mismo con temerosas creencias.

porque una organización sólo puede cambiar cuando hay en ella suficientes personas dispuestas a cambiar.

conversation, as conversations between whores go, and Willow took his time with the last few sips of his Kennessy’s Light Lager, thinking about all those fictional private investigators, the rigidly uncompromising, death-before-dishonor guys out of New York and Los Angeles. Well, maybe they were that way in New York and Los Angeles, but this was Chicago, Illinois, and in Chicago, Illinois, there are times when a private investigator can be had for five hundred dollars and the promise of a roll in the hay with a washed-up fashion model who has quite literally gone to the dogs—Great Danes and Irish wolfhounds, to be specific.

Ningún estudiante de Ocultismo, sin embargo, debe ser inducido a creer, a causa de la fraseología usual empleada en la traducción de las obras herméticas, que los antiguos egipcios y griegos hablaban ni se referían a cada momento en la conversación, a manera de frailes, a un Ser Supremo, a Dios, al “Padre Único y creador de todo”, etc., del modo en que se encuentra en todas las páginas de tales traducciones. No hay tal cosa, en verdad; y esos textos no son los textos originales egipcios. Son compilaciones griegas, la más antigua de las cuales no se remonta más allá del primer período del neoplatonismo. Ninguna obra hermética escrita por egipcios -como podemos ver por el Libro de los Muertos- hablaría del Dios único universal de los sistemas monoteístas; la Causa única Absoluta de todo era tan innombrable e impronunciable en la mente de los antiguos filósofos de Egipto, como es por siempre Incognoscible en el concepto de Mr. Herbert Spencer. En cuanto a los egipcios en general, como observa acertadamente M. Maspero, sea cuando fuere que

the horses to the oak freight wagon, and McCloskey helped him load, distributing the weight evenly in the wagon. When they were done, Johnny got a tarpaulin, and as he'd done many times, he threw it over the load and tucked it in carefully to keep out any rain he might encounter. Finally he'd strapped it all down tight with ropes. McCloskey had looked over the load and said, "Good job, Johnny. You sure you can do this run by yourself?" He said, "I'm sure I'll be fine, Fleet. It's just 19 miles over there and mostly flat. I won't have to use the brakes at all."   "Be sure though and set the brake when you stop." Johnny nodded, and Fleet asked, "You got your book?" Nodding and smiling, Johnny said, "Yessir, got it," as he drove the wagon out of the warehouse yard, headed west to Forest City, which was often referred to as "Irish City" because it had been settled by Irishmen. The folks there were still mostly Irish, which was evident from the heavy Irish lilt to the speech of many of the folks living there. McCloskey's face showed tiny creases of worry as he watched Johnny drive off. He was a good boy, but he was still a boy being asked to do a man's job. In his year on the job, Johnny had grown to be a fine young man. He was only a few inches short of six feet, and he'd added a lot of muscle. He could lift as much as most of the teamsters. Even so, McCloskey worried about sending the boy out alone, but he'd had no choice in the matter. He'd promised the load would reach Forest City by tomorrow morning. Johnny had a brand-new Spencer repeating rifle leaning against his leg. Peter Sarpy, the owner, had used his contacts back east and gotten a shipment of the new rifles. Now, with his four drivers armed with repeating rifles, Sarpy worried a little less about being robbed. But the rifle made Johnny worry more because if outlaws did hit a wagon, they'd kill the driver if he lifted a rifle. Johnny had helped take a load to Forest City with old Monk Beeson two weeks before, and they hadn't had any problems, and he didn't expect any problems with today's load. But during that trip, Beeson had told Johnny about an outlaw gang living a few miles north of Forest City led by a man the Irish called Ranger Jones who collected tribute from prospective