Steve King Quotes

Steve had just met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Until now his engagement to Christine had never been a concern.

Ladies and gentlemen, attention, please! Come in close where everyone can see! I got a tale to tell, it isn’t gonna cost a dime! (And if you believe that, we’re gonna get along just fine.)

Sometimes God dillies and dallies,’ Steve said, ‘and sometimes he just points at you and tells you to hang up your jock.

... Like having to be able to say to yourself, ‘I am pretending to sit here reading Albert Camus’s The Fall for the Literature of Alienation midterm, but actually I’m really concentrating on listening to Steve try to impress this girl over the phone, and I am feeling embarrassment and contempt for him, and am thinking he’s a poser, and at the same time I am also uncomfortably aware of times that I’ve also tried to project the idea of myself as hip and cynical so as to impress someone, meaning that not only do I sort of dislike Steve, which in all honesty I do, but part of the reason I dislike him is that when I listen to him on the phone it makes me see similarities and realize things about myself that embarrass me, but I don’t know how to quit doing them—like, if I quit trying to seem nihilistic, even just to myself, then what would happen, what would I be like?

But of all the women, Éowyn is the strongest, quite frankly, because of her weakness: she's only human. She has no special powers, no immortality, only her innate grit and drive to be something more than just a shield-maiden. And nothing whatsoever will stay her on her course. In the end, she, and her faithful companion Merry, take down the Witch King HIMSELF! She kills the one servant of Sauron that no man can kill; she kills Fear itself in what is arguably the most dramatic moment in the books. I think it is significant that the embodiment of Fear in The Lord of the Rings is slain by a woman. In fact, only a woman is capable of doing so.

After ripping through The Hobbit, I read The Lord of the Rings, and the darkness of that story enveloped me in a way that is impossible to explain. I was THERE, in a very real sense. The fear was palpable in the presence of the black-cloaked Ringwraiths, and I could taste the sulfurous fumes of Mt. Doom. I could smell the sweat of horses and hot leather and hear the clash of battle as I rode with the Rohan on the fields of the Pelennor. I bled and died with the sun-king, Theoden. I rose again with Eowyn’s defiance of the Witch King. I soared with the Eagles as they swept the broken and bloody body of Frodo and his companion Samwise the Brave from the smoking crags of the fiery mountain. There has never been such a story, and I don’t think there ever shall be again.

Kojak drifted down deeper, now into real sleep, now into a dream, a good dream of chasing rabbits through the clover and timothy grass that was belly-high and wet with soothing dew. His name was Big Steve. This was the north forty. And oh the rabbits are everywhere this gray and endless morning— As he dreamed, his paws twitched.

You sure?” Steve asked. “All work and no play make Jack a dull boy, you know.

Frodo did not destroy the Ring; Gollum did. This is something he would always be reminded of, especially since the very finger that bore the Ring was missing. In the end Frodo had failed. His will was not strong enough to complete the deed. However, it is doubtful if anyone else could have completed it either. The great King Isildur had failed in the same spot at the Cracks of Doom. No one else had even attempted it, nor were they willing to try; only Frodo had the courage to carry the burden to the fire. For lacking the strength to throw it in we should forgive him.

The arc of the universe is long, but it bends toward justice. Martin Luther King Jr

I had worked for a newspaper of sorts, word got around, and I became editor of our local school newspaper, The Drum. I don't recall being given any choice in this matter; I think I was simply appointed. My second-in-command, Danny Emond, had even less interest in the paper than I did. Danny just liked the idea that Room 4, where we did our work, was near the girls' bathroom. "Someday I'll just go crazy and hack my way in there, Steve," he told me on more than one occasion. "Hack, hack, hack." Once he added, perhaps in an effort to justify himself: "The prettiest girls in school pull up their skirts in there." This struck me as so fundamentally stupid it might actually be wise, like a Zen Koan or an early story by John Updike.

Every now and then someone will ask me, "When are you going to get tired of this horror stuff, Steve, and write something serious?" I used to believe the implied insult in this question was accidental, but as the years go on I have become more and more convinced that it's not.

Reading was my salvation. Libraries and universities and schools from all over Louisiana donated books to Angola and for once, the willful ignorance of the prison administration paid off for us, because there were a lot of radical books in the prison library: Books we wouldn’t have been allowed to get through the mail. Books we never could have afforded to buy. Books we had never heard of. Herman, King, and I first gravitated to books and authors that dealt with politics and race—George Jackson, Frantz Fanon, Malcolm X, Marcus Garvey, Steve Biko, Eldridge Cleaver’s Soul on Ice, J. A. Rogers’s From “Superman” to Man. We read anything we could find on slavery, communism, socialism, Marxism, anti-imperialism, the African independence movements, and independence movements from around the world. I would check off these books on the library order form and never expect to get them until they came. Leaning against my wall in the cell, sitting on the floor, on my bed, or at my table, I read.

communicate

king of noobs,

I have the world's biggest SpongeBob SquarePants underwear collection.

Beware of Diamonds

I'll need to kill a creeper.

Sometimes God dillies and dallies,” Steve said, “and sometimes He just points at you and tells you to hang up your jock.

fags?” “I don’t know—” “Do we look like we like fags?” “No, but . . .” “We’re your friends, Steve-o,” Morrison said solemnly. “And believe me, you and Chris and Webby need all

Reverend Marsh sought the King without the kingdom. The civil rights workers sought the kingdom without the King.

V—the story of a willful and immature prince who becomes a passionate but sensitive, callous but sentimental, inspiring but flawed king—begins

John Adams, well-known lawyer, Patriot, and grump.

You sure?’ Steve asked. ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, you know.

got to the point where, when one of the kids got an ear infection and we needed to buy antibiotics, Tabby would say – half-joking and half not – ‘Hurry up, Steve, think of a monster.

The meaning of sex is illustrated by two eponymous heroes of British history, King Edward VII (who flourished in the years before the First World War) and the King Edward variety of potato which has fed the British working class for almost as long). The potato, unlike the royal family, reproduces asexually. Every King Edward potato is identical to every other and each on has the same set of genes as the hoary ancestor of all potatoes bearing that name. This is convenient for the farmer and the grocer, which is why sex is not encouraged among potatoes.

Yes, she told me about how you defeated a great, big slime monster?” I gave her a half smile. “Oh…” “And how you fought with a powerful skeleton warlord?” “Ah, the Skeleton King…” “And how you’ve built a wall around this village to protect it?” “Well, actually, Tommy is building it now.” “You’re quite helpful, aren’t you?” I smiled. “Well, I try…” Cindy giggled a bit and Lisa laughed.

St. Galgano was a 12th-century saint who renounced his past as a knight to become a hermit. Lacking a cross to display, he created his own by miraculously burying his sword up to its hilt in a stone, à la King Arthur, but in reverse. After his death, a large Cistercian monastery complex grew. Today, all you’ll see is the roofless, ruined abbey and, on a nearby hill, the Chapel of San Galgano with its fascinating dome and sword in the stone.

The world has given me a good life since then, I won’t deny it, but sometimes I hate the world, anyway. Dick Cheney, that apologist for waterboarding and for too long chief preacher in the Holy Church of Whatever It Takes, got a brand-new heart while I was writing this—how about that? He lives on; other people have died. Talented ones like Clarence Clemons. Smart ones like Steve Jobs. Decent ones like my old friend Tom Kennedy. Mostly you get used to it. You pretty much have to.

Shakespeare’s Henry V—the story of a willful and immature prince who becomes a passionate but sensitive, callous but sentimental, inspiring but flawed king—begins with the exhortation “O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend / The brightest heaven of invention.

I think," Paul said delicately, "she might be a little… concerned about your current choice of boyfriends." Which one? Chloe almost asked. "Alyec? What the fuck, man? I wasn't pissed or rude to her face about Ottavio or that loser Steve who brought fucking ecstasy into my mom's house and tried to sell it at my Halloween party." Paul nodded again, getting quieter as she got louder. He did not disagree. "Alyec is completely hot, doesn't take himself seriously, and doesn't deal drugs. Look, whatever," Chloe said, calming down. She could feel her fingertips beginning to itch again. "I think she's acting like a real bitch about everything, and frankly, I don't have time to deal with her shit right now. If she's not going to be around to lend an ear, at least she can keep her distance and shut the fuck up.

The Boaz Man, as we saw in the last chapter, is a solid citizen and family man, a man of character and integrity who operates out of servanthood, rather than selfishness or greed. Because the Lord Jesus Christ is King of his life, he in turn serves his King by serving others.

Big Jason walked into the club, stared at the band beginning their sound check and quickly walked over to the bar. Lily looked up from her rinsing and smiled. "Big Jason Gulliver, back in town. Raquel said Godzilla returned to Tokyo, I wondered how soon you'd drop by here". "Front me a soda, Lily. How's the night club racket?" Jason barked over the noisy band. "Guys still hitting on me, including your stupid friend King Steve", Lily shot a jet of soda pop from her beverage gun into a water glass. Jason chortled. "He's slow on the draw. You're a fuckin' dyke but a cool fuckin' dyke. I don't even care if you sleep with my girl". "Why thank you, Caveman", Lily smiled, handing him the soda with a cherry on top.

For God’s sake, enough. Fauci isn’t your friend. He’s a fiend. Franklin was one of our beloved Founding Fathers, but Fauci is an unfounding deadbeat dad. Nearly every premise he has asserted from the beginning has either been a well-intentioned or purposeful undermining of truth, the Constitution, the rule of law, common decency, and individual liberty. A year under Fauci’s thumb makes King George III’s madness look like the JV team, and that’s not even talking about the mental health cataclysm that awaits. His time as the Wormtongue-esque shadow casting a pall over our nation must come to an end. But for that freedom to return, our own fear that has become our idol has to go. Time to throw that idol into the fire…

Entrepreneurs who kept their day jobs had 33 percent lower odds of failure than those who quit. If you’re risk averse and have some doubts about the feasibility of your ideas, it’s likely that your business will be built to last. If you’re a freewheeling gambler, your startup is far more fragile. Like the Warby Parker crew, the entrepreneurs whose companies topped Fast Company’s recent most innovative lists typically stayed in their day jobs even after they launched. Former track star Phil Knight started selling running shoes out of the trunk of his car in 1964, yet kept working as an accountant until 1969. After inventing the original Apple I computer, Steve Wozniak started the company with Steve Jobs in 1976 but continued working full time in his engineering job at Hewlett-Packard until 1977. And although Google founders Larry Page and Sergey Brin figured out how to dramatically improve internet searches in 1996, they didn’t go on leave from their graduate studies at Stanford until 1998. “We almost didn’t start Google,” Page says, because we “were too worried about dropping out of our Ph.D. program.” In 1997, concerned that their fledgling search engine was distracting them from their research, they tried to sell Google for less than $2 million in cash and stock. Luckily for them, the potential buyer rejected the offer. This habit of keeping one’s day job isn’t limited to successful entrepreneurs. Many influential creative minds have stayed in full-time employment or education even after earning income from major projects. Selma director Ava DuVernay made her first three films while working in her day job as a publicist, only pursuing filmmaking full time after working at it for four years and winning multiple awards. Brian May was in the middle of doctoral studies in astrophysics when he started playing guitar in a new band, but he didn’t drop out until several years later to go all in with Queen. Soon thereafter he wrote “We Will Rock You.” Grammy winner John Legend released his first album in 2000 but kept working as a management consultant until 2002, preparing PowerPoint presentations by day while performing at night. Thriller master Stephen King worked as a teacher, janitor, and gas station attendant for seven years after writing his first story, only quitting a year after his first novel, Carrie, was published. Dilbert author Scott Adams worked at Pacific Bell for seven years after his first comic strip hit newspapers. Why did all these originals play it safe instead of risking it all?

There are also generational knowledges in play, accessed and skilled within a history of televisual experiments in educational entertainment. For US academics schooled in the fifties, sixties, and seventies some old TV shows haunt this vignette as well. Two are Walter Cronkite’s You Are There (CBS, 1953–57) and Steve Allen’s Meeting of Minds (PBS, 1977–81). During the mid-century decades either or both could be found on the TV screen and in US secondary school classrooms. Even now the thoughtfully presentist You are There reenactments can be viewed on DVDs from Netflix; you can be personally addressed and included as Cronkite interviews Socrates about his choice to poison himself with hemlock rather than submit to exile after ostracism in ancient Athens. Cronkite’s interviews, scripted by blacklisted Hollywood writers, were specifically charged with messages against McCarthy-style witch hunts that were “felt” rather than spoken out.

tale is thus both instructive and cautionary, filled with lessons about innovation, character, leadership, and values. Shakespeare’s Henry V—the story of a willful and immature prince who becomes a passionate but sensitive, callous but sentimental, inspiring but flawed king—begins with the exhortation “O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend / The brightest heaven of invention.” For Steve Jobs, the ascent to the brightest heaven of invention begins with a tale of two sets of parents, and of

It's the outgrowth of a natural human contradiction: people want to read good books, but people are also invincibly lazy ... so they read only stupid, easy books, but they still keep feeling the original want - and eventually, that causes them to call the stupid, easy books they actually do read good ... because it seems like such a neat little solution to their problem! And if those stupid, easy books are big enough financial successes or garner a wide enough audience of people trying that same solution, those of us who aren't invincibly lazy and actually do read good books - or at least real books - on a regular basis start to get characterized as cranks and killjoys and snobs, because we still have the nerve to say the Harry Potter books are awful, or that there's no literary worth to anything Stephen King has ever written, or that Susan Sontag is grotesquely overrated, or that nobody should be reading Raymond Carver .... and so on. All those judgements are right, but as the crowds grow larger wanting to elevate what they've settled for, they start to look more and more eccentric ...

As Reagan’s first budget director, Stockman, a former two-term congressman from Michigan, was the point man for the supply-side economics the new administration was pushing— the theory that taxes should be lowered to stimulate economic activity, which would in turn produce more tax revenue to compensate for the lower rates. With his wonky whiz-kid persona, computer-like mental powers, and combative style, he browbeat Democratic congressmen and senators who challenged his views. But he soon incurred the wrath of political conservatives when he confessed to Atlantic reporter William Greider that supply-side economics was really window dressing for reducing the rates on high incomes. Among other acts of apostasy, he called doctrinaire supply-siders “naive.” The 1981 article created a sensation and prompted Reagan to ask him over lunch, “You have hurt me. Why?” Stockman famously described the meeting as a “trip to the woodshed.” Though the president himself forgave him, Stockman’s loose lips undercut his power at the White House, and in 1985 he left government to become an investment banker at Salomon Brothers.

It was a quiet night. Until the screams began. It started with just one panicked yell that turned into many more. An entire village was woken up by the echoing screams. They gathered round to find out what the source of these noises could be. They found that it was from inside the house of Steve and Stephanie.   Inside that house, the screaming continued. Steve was pacing around, back and forth and then back and forth again, walking around nervously. He could hear Stephanie's screaming and he knew that she was in pain. This only made him hurt as well. He did not want her to be in pain but he also knew that it was necessary for pain to be experienced before the miracle of childbirth could be fulfilled. So, he waited, very impatiently, pacing back and forth worriedly some more.   It was hours later, when the full moon had moved to one side of the village, that the screaming finally stopped and the sound of crying began. A baby's first noises echoed throughout the house. Outside, the villagers cheered. Inside, Steve burst into a fit of his own tears. He could not help himself. They were tears of happiness that he had to shed for the birth of his child.   When Steve was finally allowed to see Stephanie and his newly born child, he saw that Stephanie was crying as well.

Whoa, whoa, calm down, everyone!” I said. “Lemme try to talk to them and see what’s up?” “What’s up? Don’t you see what’s up?” said Devlin. “They’re about to fire on us!” “But they haven’t yet. Just chill and let me salvage this.” I stepped out in front of Devlin’s shield. “I said do not take one step further!” yelled the announcer. “Hey, hey, remember me?” I said. “It’s Steve.” “You! What’s the meaning of this?!” “Of what?” “This army! Why did you bring an army to our doorstep?!” yelled the announcer. “Uh, I’m here on business. Is the Skeleton King in? Can I speak to him?” I asked. “I speak for our king! Now tell me what’s the meaning of this army?! Is it war you want?!” “What?! No, no, not at all! I’m telling you, we’re here on business!” “What kind of business?! The hostile takeover business?!” “No, no, you got it all wrong!” “We were kind to your people. We took you in and this is how you repay us? With a hostile takeover?!” “No! I’m serious! We’re not here to overthrow you!” “Why else would you bring such a huge army?!” “They’re here for another fight!” “Yeah, right! You mean the fight that’s going to start right after we let you past our walls?!” “What?! No!” Then the announcer turned around and said, “Bring out the golem!” “The golem? Is he talking about Bob?” I said to Devlin. “Probably,” replied the paladin. Then Alex came up to me. “Steve, you need to deescalate this situation quickly before it gets out of hand.” I nodded. “You’re right, yeah.” Some skeleton guards brought out Bob to the front of the wall. He was all chained up. “Bob!” I yelled at the sight of my friend in bindings. “Steve! What’s going on?!” said Bob. “They think we’re here to fight them,” I said. “Now tell us the truth or we’ll beat this golem!” said the announcer. Bob chuckled. “Beat me? It’s not like you guys could hurt me.” “Bob, be quiet!” I yelled. “You’re not helping. Just let me deal with them.” “Quit your stalling and start explaining!” yelled the announcer.  “Dude! We’re not here to fight. We’re not here to take over your home. I’m telling you the truth! This is a huge misunderstanding,” I explained.  “Bring out the girl!” yelled the announcer. “The girl? Is he talking about Emily?” I said softly. “She’ll make him speak the truth!” Some skeleton guards dragged out Emily. She was kicking and screaming all over the place. Her arms were also tied behind her back like Bob’s. “Unhand me, you stupid skeletons!” yelled Emily. “Emily!” I yelled. “Steve!” “Let her go!” “Tell me the truth, or else she’s going to get it!” yelled the announcer as he drew out a stone sword and pointed it at Emily’s throat.

Jobs later explained, “We discussed whether it was correct before we ran it. It’s grammatical, if you think about what we’re trying to say. It’s not think the same, it’s think different. Think a little different, think a lot different, think different. ‘Think differently’ wouldn’t hit the meaning for me.” In order to evoke the spirit of Dead Poets Society, Clow and Jobs wanted to get Robin Williams to read the narration. His agent said that Williams didn’t do ads, so Jobs tried to call him directly. He got through to Williams’s wife, who would not let him talk to the actor because she knew how persuasive he could be. They also considered Maya Angelou and Tom Hanks. At a fund-raising dinner featuring Bill Clinton that fall, Jobs pulled the president aside and asked him to telephone Hanks to talk him into it, but the president pocket-vetoed the request. They ended up with Richard Dreyfuss, who was a dedicated Apple fan. In addition to the television commercials, they created one of the most memorable print campaigns in history. Each ad featured a black-and-white portrait of an iconic historical figure with just the Apple logo and the words “Think Different” in the corner. Making it particularly engaging was that the faces were not captioned. Some of them—Einstein, Gandhi, Lennon, Dylan, Picasso, Edison, Chaplin, King—were easy to identify. But others caused people to pause, puzzle, and maybe ask a friend to put a name to the face: Martha Graham, Ansel Adams, Richard Feynman, Maria Callas, Frank Lloyd Wright, James Watson, Amelia Earhart. Most were Jobs’s personal heroes. They tended to be creative people who had taken risks, defied failure, and bet their career on doing things in a different way.

Hardy reinforces his narrative with stories of heroes who didn’t have the right education, the right connections, and who could have been counted out early as not having the DNA for success: “Richard Branson has dyslexia and had poor academic performance as a student. Steve Jobs was born to two college students who didn’t want to raise him and gave him up for adoption. Mark Cuban was born to an automobile upholsterer. He started as a bartender, then got a job in software sales from which he was fired.”8 The list goes on. Hardy reminds his readers that “Suze Orman’s dad was a chicken farmer. Retired General Colin Powell was a solid C student. Howard Schultz, the CEO of Starbucks, was born in a housing authority in the Bronx … Barbara Corcoran started as a waitress and admits to being fired from more jobs than most people hold in a lifetime. Pete Cashmore, the CEO of Mashable, was sickly as a child and finished high school two years late due to medical complications. He never went to college.” What do each of these inspiring leaders and storytellers have in common? They rewrote their own internal narratives and found great success. “The biographies of all heroes contain common elements. Becoming one is the most important,”9 writes Chris Matthews in Jack Kennedy, Elusive Hero. Matthews reminds his readers that young John F. Kennedy was a sickly child and bedridden for much of his youth. And what did he do while setting school records for being in the infirmary? He read voraciously. He read the stories of heroes in the pages of books by Sir Walter Scott and the tales of King Arthur. He read, and dreamed of playing the hero in the story of his life. When the time came to take the stage, Jack was ready.

Iowa congressman Steve King lamented the passing of "a time in American history when you had to be a male property owner in order to vote." Florida congressional candidate Ted Yoho echoed that sentiment when he also proffered, "You used to have to be a property owner to vote." Of course, after the Great Recession, with African American homeownership lower than it had been during the 1930s and the lowest of all ethnic and racial groups in the United States, the implications of the GOP longings were obvious.

Ron Gilbert, took inspiration from Sierra games like King’s Quest and Leisure Suit Larry but, more than just the game, what Maniac Mansion (and Ron) gave LucasArts was the underlying engine created for the game, SCUMM‡. This would form the backbone of future hits for the company such as Zak McKracken and the Alien Mindbenders, Maniac Mansion sequel Day of the Tentacle, two Indiana Jones games (one based on The Last Crusade, the other an original adventure called The Fate of Atlantis), Sam & Max Hit the Road and, most famously, The Secret of Monkey Island. Humour permeates all these games successfully in a way it rarely has before or since. Monkey Island’s ‘insult’ sword-fight is perhaps the best-known example, but there are many more. The jokes even operate between games;

Oh… you mean, it doesn’t exist?” I asked. Emily shrugged. “I don’t know… I just never heard of it before, but then again, I’m not a potions expert…” “But we do know someone who is,” Lisa added. “Oh, no…” I said. “Yeah, Cindy’s aunt, Wanda the witch…” said Emily. “Ugh… I gotta deal with that lady again? I would much rather go deal with the Skeleton King,” I said as I rolled my eyes. Emily giggled. “I heard she can be difficult, but hey, if you want to find the cure, you should go talk to her.

Thanksss, Ssskeleton Sssteve. I feel ssso much better! Thanksss for lying to me!

lives

Dude, can you walk any slower?” said the irritated king. He has already ruined my plans with his stupid fight challenge, so I might as well mess with him, I thought to myself. “Oh, you want me to walk slower? Okay,” I said. Then I reduced my walking pace to a near crawl. “Grrr! I’ve been waiting for you all day! And this is how you treat me?” “But you asked me to walk slower.” “You know that’s not what I meant!” “Fine.” I walked at my normal pace and reached the throne. “I’m here.

Whoa!” I said as I ran out of his path. But in my hasty retreat, I tripped over my own foot and fell to the ground. “Oof!” But my clumsiness turned out to be a boon, because the Skeleton King then tripped over my fallen body.

One d-day,” Old Gertrude muttered, in an agonizingly slow and leathery voice that suggested she was actually closer to two hundred years old, “there is going to be … a gigantic f-fish … called Brian ….” “Yes?” asked Yam, scribbling down her every word frantically (which was unnecessary, because she left such long pauses in between her words that he could have written them down, climbed to the top of one of the highest jungle trees bordering the village, tamed the fifty or so parrots living in its branches, and then come down again before she even said the next thing). Gertrude’s lips quivered. “It is going to eat ….” “Eat, yes, what’s it going to eat?” cried the Chief. Gertrude’s whole body was shaking from the sheer effort now. Sweat ran down her brow. Her blank face had morphed into a look of such concentration that it could probably be considered a workout. The whole village leaned forward, their breaths held in excitement. “It is going to eat,” Old Gertrude whispered …. “Yes!?” cried the Chief. “THE SUN,” Old Gertrude finished. Steve gawped in disbelief. “A fish is going to eat the sun?” “BRILLIANT!” shouted Yam, hurriedly writing the last words of Old Gertrude’s newest prediction into the book. “SHE’S DONE IT AGAIN!” bellowed the Chief—and with that, the entire village erupted into an enormous cheer—with the exception of Gertrude herself, that was, who had sagged in relief now the sheer effort of verbalizing her ‘prediction’ was over. “HURRAH FOR OLD GERTRUDE!” chorused the village. Chuck clucked crossly, rustling his feathers. “Hmph.” “AND ALL HAIL THE ONE TRUE KING, OF COURSE!” the natives added. Chuck stopped his rustling. “Better.” “Get her back to her hut and put her in bed, Yam,” said the Chief. “She looks like she’s about to fall over.” Yam nodded, then scooped up Old Gertrude and hurried her away, at rather a quicker pace than he’d brought her out at. “So, there you go,” said the Chief, looking pleased. “You’ve witnessed one of Old Gertrude’s amazing predictions. A gigantic fish eating the sun, eh? Madness! I do hope I’m alive to see it!

Another adventure already?” Skeleton Steve asked. “I sssuppossse ssso … another adventure.

(you have to eat, even in the middle of famous historical events),

Day 35 When the sun came up and all of the undead mobs (except for Zarek and Skeleton Steve) caught on fire, we were already standing at the edge of the forest. I had my stronghold stone with me, and my friends looked ready for another adventure—even if it was a short one. As Darkwood forest continued to the west from my clearing, the ground became more hilly, and by the time the forest ended, where we now stood, the terrain had grown steep and the trees grew right up to the edge of the snow. A long, rising plain of blinding white snow extended west before us, climbing higher and higher until tall, imposing mountains sprung up out of the ground. One of the creepers I met the other day, Ca’des, stood with us. He was from the snowy area ahead.

Mark my words, for wisdom I lend. Where edge meets abyss, your path will wend. With brawn and spell, the veil you’ll rend, to find the Illager King’s dark end.

He’d heard the talk. Some had begun to call him Mad King Ludwig. Nothing could be further from the truth. Instead, like everyone, he was simply searching for peace.

Thanksss for lying to me!

You are the Great Steve, Protector of Villages, Slayer of Zombies, King of a mighty castle.

King Steve!

There are no medals for killing your first zombie.

Don't dig deep, Take it from the sheep, They don't dig down, Ending up in lava with a frown, Don't dig deep.

He dislikes moths, rock music, and homework.

The Skeleton King.

I am… the Skeleton King.” He was a fearsome looking foe, tall and big, and wielded a giant scythe.

GO!” yelled the skeleton guard. The Skeleton King quickly approached me. “Wait!” I screamed. “Time out!

What a waste of time… Do you have any last words?” “T… tell… t—” I struggled with speaking. “Out with it,” said the Skeleton King impatiently. “T-tell Cindy… I’m sorry…

Pringles.

You don’t disturb a king while he naps, are you crazy? That’s how you get your head chopped off.” “Hey, that only happened one time,

It was a good thing we were mobs and could see in the dark.

In Adam Alter’s book Irresistible: The Rise of Addictive Technology and the Business of Keeping Us Hooked, he makes the condemning point that many of those who work in technology and best understand its power don’t want their kids using it.6 Many of them send their kids to Waldorf schools, which ban technology from the classroom and make a point of actively discouraging it at home up until the age of twelve. The king of tech himself, Steve Jobs, was careful to limit his kids’ technology use, and wouldn’t get iPads for his own kids.

One of King Hussein’s skeptical advisers had warned him “to expect a half-baked presentation” at the C.I.A. The spy agency briefers would cloak their lack of knowledge about the internal situation in Iraq “through the use of elaborate graphs, charts, and presentational aids.” Even in these early days of PowerPoint’s hegemony over Washington, an overload of colorfully designed but cluttered and questionably relevant information was a common feature of intelligence briefings.

torches in the prison so that there would be some light. You know, just in case there was ever any reason to enter the prison. We hoped there would not be such a reason, but you never know … and, it looks like that time has come.” “So, to summarize then,” said the Ender King, “within the bedrock prison is a flat world that is the color of bedrock because it is made entirely of bedrock. There are several thousand redstone torches, and somewhere between five hundred and tens of thousands of dark ones down there. Is that everything you can tell us?” Notch sat and thought for a little while. “I think so. Other than those seven … well, six Steves who were imprisoned down there, I don’t think there were any other mobs.” I looked over at the Ender King and then at the Rainbow Creeper. “RC, is there anything else you can tell us?” The Rainbow Creeper shook his head. “As you know, it was a prior version of me who was alive when Lamashtu was captured. I have no memory of this. I do know that the events

Uno de los elementos esenciales de un empresario es el momentum, una característica que veo en todos estos líderes. No renuncies, sigue andando, siempre adelante a pesar de los contratiempos, siempre abierto a la siguiente idea. Aprendí eso de Steve y lo he mantenido como un principio guía, un principio que me llevó a crear más de diez productos en los últimos ocho años. Martin Luther King dijo una vez: «Juzga a un hombre por cómo reacciona al fracaso, no al éxito».

I have long studied and admired other crusaders and disruptors. Their pictures adorn the walls of my firm, such as Martin Luther King, Jr., Mahatma Gandhi, Golda Meir, Nelson Mandela, and Steve Jobs. I know, however, that disruption makes people uncomfortable.

She saw what she was going to look like when she was old, and the most terrifying thing of all was that right now, if Steve Kemp was here, she thought she would let him make love to her if he would only hold her and kiss her and say that she didn't have to be afraid, that time was a myth and death was a dream, that everything was okay.

It turns out that when people assess your skills, they put more weight on your peaks18 than on your troughs. Even if you happened to see Serena Williams repeatedly double-fault on her serve, you’d recognize her excellence if you witnessed just one of her aces. When Steve Jobs flopped with the Apple Lisa, people still deemed him a visionary for his feats with the Mac. And we judge Shakespeare’s genius by his masterpieces (think Hamlet and King Lear), forgiving his forgettable plays (I’m looking at you, Timon of Athens and The Merry Wives of Windsor). People judge your potential from your best moments, not your worst. What if you gave yourself the same grace?

The job of a Warden was to investigate and deal with crimes committed by, and against, members of the ruling Council, or their families. Their jurisdiction also included the King of Stars and his royal family, something that had often caused contention over the years.

Steve Schwarzman, a thirty-one-year-old investment banker at Lehman Brothers Kuhn Loeb at the time, burned with curiosity to know how the deal worked. The buyers, he saw, were putting up little capital of their own and didn’t have to pledge any of their own collateral. The only security for the loans came from the company itself. How could they do this? He had to get his hands on the bond prospectus, which would provide a detailed blueprint of the deal’s mechanics. Schwarzman, a mergers and acquisitions specialist with a self-assured swagger and a gift for bringing in new deals, had been made a partner at Lehman Brothers that very month. He sensed that something new was afoot—a way to make fantastic profits and a new outlet for his talents, a new calling.

Its central doctrine proclaimed that the world was the creation of a dark evil force. Rex Mundi. King of the World.

But that was before he’d done what he did in the square: he’d turned Sydney into a Slime and ditched her in a pool of water in the exploded half of the city. Then he’d pocketed the remaining Vex wings and lied to the Mayor, told him that PAUL’S POTIONS—the shop where he had purchased that final potion ingredient—had already been turned to swamp when he arrived. He had prevented the brewing of Miss Witch’s Slime-speak potion. As such, he had prevented the repair of the command block. By extension, he had delayed the de-swampification of Fortune City, and Sydney the Silent along with it. And therefore, he had stopped Sydney from being able to present King Reginald her stack of charged Creeper heads. Steve had won.

While Reverend Marsh preached personal piety and the hope of heaven, African Americans were being lynched in Mississippi through the plotting of Sam Bowers. Less dramatic but even more pervasive was the entire social, political, and economic system designed to keep African Americans in their place. What would King Jesus do in this situation? Would He simply evangelize the African Americans, saying, “I have heard your cries for help, but your earthly plight is of no concern to Me. Believe in Me, and I will transport your soul to heaven someday. In the meantime, abstain from alcohol, drugs, and sexual impurity”? Is this how Jesus responded to the blind beggar who pleaded for mercy?

How useless it would have been if Jesus had only used words and not deeds to declare the kingdom. Imagine reading the story in Luke 18:35–43 about the blind beggar who was sitting along the roadside. Learning that Jesus was walking by, he called out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” What if Jesus had said, “I am the fulfillment of all prophecy. I am the King of kings and Lord of lords. I have all the power in heaven and earth. I could heal you today of your blindness, but I only care about your soul. Believe in Me”? Who would have believed that Jesus was the promised King if He had not given any evidence to prove it?

Incidentally, the word pelf in the first line of the poem means “wealth.” When you get what you want in your struggle for pelf, And the world makes you King for a day, Then go to the mirror and look at yourself, And see what that guy has to say. For it isn’t your Father, or Mother, or Wife, Who judgement upon you must pass. The feller whose verdict counts most in your life Is the guy staring back from the glass. He’s the feller to please, never mind all the rest, For he’s with you clear up to the end, And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test If the guy in the glass is your friend. You may be like Jack Horner and “chisel” a plum, And think you’re a wonderful guy, But the man in the glass says you’re only a bum If you can’t look him straight in the eye. You can fool the whole world down the pathway of years, And get pats on the back as you pass, But your final reward will be heartaches and tears If you’ve cheated the guy in the glass. © 1934 by Dale Wimbrow (1895–1954) Used by permission.

solid rock. And, to make matters worse,

None of you men bow to me today,” Galahad said. “Every single man here is defending his home and his life. We are not king and subject. We are one.” He pulled the nearest man upright and placed a bloody hand against the soldier’s heart. “We beat as one. We bleed as one, and we sure as hell fight as one.” A tear fell down the man’s face. “No one here bows to me. And any man or woman in this room who survives this will never have to bow to me again,

I want to say this about the textbook situation. Our associate athletic director for compliance at the time, Chris King, did a superb job of sifting through a maze of paperwork, finding out exactly what the problem had been and setting the course to correct it. The gist of the issue was a worker in the bookstore who was friendly with the athletes, was giving the athletes textbooks, which was an extra benefit. The players did repay the full amount of the costs of the books and had their eligibility restored after sitting out four games. Despite the

The sovereignty of God means that He is King and He is in absolute control; and it also means that we are not.

and landed near Steve. They were kingly in stature and commanded power.     “Dark

These themes arise again in Steve’s provocative account of David Foster Wallace’s suicide. Foster Wallace’s human tragedy, Steve suggests, is the result of a failed literary ambition – a thwarted hope “that everything could be contained in a book, unified by narrative”, that “a novel might become the world, exceeding the limits of the self”. For Steve, Foster Wallace’s 1088-page Infinite Jest was an attempt at just such a novel, a novel to make sense of the flux of the world. And his next attempt, The Pale King, destroyed its author, who died of his failure to write a book that could be the world.

We have traveled a long way in search of a witch to help us. Villagers are sick and need potions. Witches near our home are missing. Please do not be afraid. We will return in the morning. The South Meadow Villagers.

Merlin?” Layla asked. “The Merlin? Knights of the Round Table, King Arthur? That Merlin?

himself … by killing himself?

clearing had become… “My king!!” It was the voice of C’Thor. He approached me from a bustling and wandering group of—I don’t know how many—creepers! There were creepers congregating in little clustered groups all over the clearing, amidst the green grass, the yellow and red flowers. They stood around and chatted with each other by the mine, by the creek, even

However, if humans don’t band together and start making noise about Ebola, half of the planet will be dead 2 years from now. Half of everyone currently living on Earth will no longer exist.

looked

He left behind several failed careers, two failed marriages, and a reputation as a clever but fairly annoying fellow.

“I’m talking about greatness, about taking a lever to the world and moving it,” Larry Ellison said, walking the grounds of his new Woodside property in spring 2000 with his best friend, Steve Jobs. “I’m not talking about moral perfection. I’m talking about people who changed the world the most during their lifetime.” Jobs, who had returned to Apple three years earlier, enjoyed the conversational volleying with Larry about who was history’s greatest person. The Apple co-founder placed Leonardo da Vinci and Gandhi as his top choices, with Gandhi in the lead. Leonardo, a great artist and inventor, lived in violent times and was a designer of tanks, battlements, ramparts, and an assortment of other military tools and castle fortifications. Larry joked that had Leonardo not been gay, he would have been “a perfect fit for the Bush administration.” Jobs, who had studied in India, cited Gandhi’s doctrine of nonviolent revolution as an example of how it was possible to remain morally pure while aggressively pursuing change. Larry’s choice could not have been more different from Gandhi: the Corsican-born military leader Napoleon Bonaparte. “Napoleon overthrew kings and tyrants throughout Europe, created a system of free public schools, and wrote one set of laws that applied to everybody. Napoleon achieved liberal ends through conservative means,” Larry argued. " - The Billionaire and the Mechanic

What a difference from words on a page, or images on a video screen. Surrounding him was one of the oldest fortresses in England, where men had died defending the walls, and something was happening.

imposters, in one shape or another, are likely to flourish as long as human nature remains what it is and society shows itself ready to be gulled.

I’ve always considered them ideas, forever recorded.” Malone motioned to one of the paperbacks. “Malory wrote King Arthur in the late part of the 15th century. So you’re reading his thoughts from five hundred years ago. We’ll never know Malory, but we know his imagination.