Stella Key Quotes

The Renaissance did not break completely with mediaeval history and values. Sir Philip Sidney is often considered the model of the perfect Renaissance gentleman. He embodied the mediaeval virtues of the knight (the noble warrior), the lover (the man of passion), and the scholar (the man of learning). His death in 1586, after the Battle of Zutphen, sacrificing the last of his water supply to a wounded soldier, made him a hero. His great sonnet sequence Astrophel and Stella is one of the key texts of the time, distilling the author's virtues and beliefs into the first of the Renaissance love masterpieces. His other great work, Arcadia, is a prose romance interspersed with many poems and songs.

I should tell you, Stella, that your clothes are completely unsuitable for this weather.’ ‘It’s okay,’ I said, opening my car door. ‘I don’t plan on wearing them for very long.

I’ll never forget this one night when Daddy had taken us way out to a little church up on a high ridge. There was no kind of instrumentation, and the hymns were all sung a cappella. During the preaching, there was a little more shouting from the congregation than usual. When it came time for us to sing, we were introduced by the preacher, a wiry little man with kind of a fiery look in his eyes. We stepped to the front and took our places on the old wood-plank platform to one side of the pulpit. Softly, I sung a note to get us started because it was decided I could come closest to hitting a key that we could all sing in. We began our songs, just as we had planned. I was aware that the pastor was on the stage behind us, but I didn’t think anything of it. After a while, I could feel Stella nudging me in the ribs, trying not to be noticed. I looked at her, and she motioned with her head slightly back toward where the preacher was standing. He seemed to be totally wrapped up in the spirit, nearly in a trance. I didn’t think too much of it, until I spotted a familiar sight—the back markings of a snake, a cottonmouth moccasin. I had seen them in the woods, usually scurrying across the path toward cover. They were afraid of me, and I was afraid of them. And up to now, we had always managed to keep our distance from each other. Here, apparently, they were a part of the worship service. I could see now, out of my peripheral vision, that the preacher had a full grown cottonmouth by the back of the head and it was twisting and coiling all around his forearm. Some members of the congregation were reaching out as if they wanted to touch it. The preacher was getting more and more worked up, and he reached into a wooden crate by the pulpit and took out two more snakes. This time he seemed to be holding them much more carelessly. He lifted them near his face as if daring them to strike. We sisters just kept on singing, unconsciously moving away from the snakes until we were very near the front of the platform. Just then, I noticed something that struck a note of fear in my heart much greater than that inspired by the snakes. My father had stepped into the back of the church to hear his little girls sing. Whatever he had been drinking didn’t impair his ability to see exactly what the preacher had in his hands. Just at that moment, the man and his snakes took a step toward the congregation, thus toward us. Daddy had seen enough. He charged down the aisle like a wild boar through a thicket. “You get them Goddamn snakes away from my kids!” Daddy bellowed with a force in his voice I had never heard before. It was amazing how quickly that preacher broke his trance and paid heed. He had heard the voice of a higher power, in this case a really pissed-off redneck. Daddy swooped us up and out the front door before we had time to think about what was happening. We didn’t even stop singing until we were almost down the steps into the churchyard. We were glad to be out of there, and I at least was proud that Daddy had come to our rescue. But Daddy obviously felt terrible about it. On the way home in the car, he got to feeling especially bad. “Goddamn! I can’t believe I said Goddamn in church!” he muttered to himself. He finally got so upset he had to stop the car and get out in the woods and, in his way, ask God’s forgiveness. I couldn’t help thinking how badly Mama had always wanted Daddy to walk down the church aisle and declare himself. Now he had certainly done that, although not I’m sure the way Mama had in mind.

Never wear headphones, so you can hear if anyone’s coming up behind you. Always keep a key wedged in between your thumb and forefinger as you walk, sharp side facing outward, in case anyone tries to attack. Carry as little other items as possible so you don’t look like a rich walking target. No phone out in your hands. No iPod. Nothing. Make purposeful eye contact with people you pass, not for too long, but enough to send the message that you are paying attention and have seen them, because people who aren’t aware of their surroundings are more likely to be taken advantage of.

Dr. Satcher was responding to the high incidence of sexually transmitted diseases as well as other concerns about sex in the United States: that nearly half of all pregnancies were unintended, the highest rate among the developed countries; that almost one in four women and one in five men have been victims of forced sex; and that more than a hundred thousand children a year are victims of sexual abuse. Noting that each of these problems has lifelong consequences not just for the individuals but also for their families, their communities, and the entire nation, Satcher was prompted to seek out scientific research and to explore public health strategies to address these issues. The result was a thin booklet, published in 2001 as The Surgeon General’s Call to Action to Promote Sexual Health and Responsible Sexual Behavior. In it he wrote, Sexual health is inextricably bound to both physical and mental health. . . . Sexual health is not limited to the absence of disease or dysfunction, nor is its importance confined to just the reproductive years. . . . It includes freedom from sexual abuse and discrimination and the ability of individuals to integrate their sexuality into their lives, derive pleasure from it, and to reproduce if they so choose.

Yeah, no.” She snaps the laptop lid closed. “This isn’t helping.” “Just go to class, Chloe.” I open the laptop again and hit a key to bring it to life. “It’s Saturday.” Oh. “And I’m not bringing you another can of Pringles.” Oh, no, she didn’t. “So you’re gonna have to get up and leave this room.” Fine. I don’t need to eat. “One more thing,” she says, pulling open the door with one hand and waving a little canister at me with the other. “The fish haven’t eaten yet today. And I’m gonna be gone all day. So they’re going to be hungry if you don’t get off your ass and leave this room. Bye!” The door swings shut behind her, and I realize the canister of fish food was in her hand. Whatever. They’re goldfish. I don’t care. Except. Except that they’re looking at me. I tap my fingertip on the glass and Steve waves his little fin excitedly. He really does. The little guy is totally into me. And then Stella swims to the top looking for food. Fucking Chloe. I grab my stuff and head to the showers.