Super Hero Quotes

It was like the Justice League of Super Heroes but instead it was the Justice League of Hot Guys.

I'm the Super-sized McShizzle, man!" Leo said. "I'm Leo Valdez, bad boy supreme. And the ladies love a bad boy.

Rose, I'm an addict with no work ethic who is likely going to go insane. I'm not like you. I'm not a super-hero." "Not yet," I said.

You all right, man?' This should be my name. I could be like a super hero: You All Right Man. Ah...' I stumble. Don't bug Craig,' Ronny is like. 'He's in the Craig zone. He's Craig-ing out.

Percy says be talked to a Nereid in Charleston Harbor!” “Good for him!” Leo yelled back. “The Nereid said we should seek help from Chiron’s brothers.” “What does that mean? The Party Ponies?” Leo had never met Chiron’s crazy centaur relatives, but he’d heard rumors of Nerf sword-fights, root beer-chugging contests, and Super Soakers filled with pressurized whipped cream. “Not sure,” Annabeth said. “But I’ve got coordinates. Can you input latitude and longitude in this thing?” “I can input star charts and order you a smoothie, if you want. Of course I can do latitude and longitude!

Narcissus turned and scowled at Leo. “Who are you?” “I’m the Super-sized McShizzle, man!” Leo said. “I’m Leo Valdez, bad boy supreme. And the ladies love a bad boy.

Who was she to question the fantastical? She was an invisible naked chick off to steal a magic sword.

Yeah, nerdship could be inherited as surely as any knighthood

The two shadows, black against the dark, defined by voids of light, moved at impossible speeds.

Afraid to live, too cowardly to die.

I realize nobody's coming to save me. I must save myself. I must be my own super hero. Although I am open to a sidekick.

I'm a super hero, too, underneath my sweater.

Stain Boy Of all the super heroes, the strangest one by far, doesn't have a special power, or drive a fancy car. next to Superman and batman, I guess he must seem tame. But to me he is quite special, and Stain Boy is his name. He can't fly around tall buildings, or outrun a speeding train, the only talent he seems to have is to leave a nasty stain. Sometimes I know it bothers him, that he can't run or swim or fly, and because of this one ability, his dry cleaning bill is sky-high.

Just Leo’s luck. A super-hot immortal girl was waiting for him on Ogygia, but he couldn’t figure out how to wire a stupid chunk of rock into the three-thousand-year-old navigation device. Some problems even duct tape couldn’t solve.

I love his penis. I want to give it a sponge bath and dress it up like a super hero.

Forget trying to be Supermom - it's way too stressful and who needs more stress? Besides super heroes tend to wear a lot of clingy Lycra and none of us needs that.

I had no clue; you can achieve all that, with one hug. But hey, I am Kay Kay! The first super hero koala bear and I give the best hugs!

I have told Mrs. Jones that I was pretty sure that stars were just like super heroes and that if she really wanted to become one, she just needed to be herself.

Piper didn’t dare look—not while she was running with a dagger in her hand. She could just see herself tripping and stabbing herself in the nose. That would be super heroic.

Some people need a super hero to save them, but I am my own super hero. All I need is myself, my strengths and the fiery passions in my heart to overcome the obstacles in my life.

Jason had never really considered how important Leo's sense of humor was to the group. Even when things were super serious, they could always depend on Leo to lighten things up. Now, it felt like the whole team had dropped anchor

Her taste still teased my tongue, and her touch tipped my fingers. Her smile licked my lips, and her heart beat my own. So I tugged on her sheets, like it was a cape. To me, she was a God damned super hero, and underneath, was everything I need. Her super powers on top of me.

There’s no glory in this whole shit. No war is ever glorious. Heroes are usually dead. Besides, they rarely turn into heroes because they are super-humans, but because of circumstances. Heroes rarely think. Heroes just act. So, all this is, is a stage for glory, small, personal and up to each one of us.

Pride is a commodity that can be purchased again later. One’s life is not. As

So this was about you saving somebody, huh? Yeah, well, let me ask you something, Super Hero... Who’s gonna save you?

Man, some open doors were not welcoming, and that was so the case here—less hi-how’re-ya, more come-in-so-your-skin-can-be-used-to-make-a-super-hero-cape-for-one-of-Hannibal-Lecter’s-patients.

Whoever had coined the phrase, ‘the customer is always right,’ had clearly never worked in retail or customer service. And if they had, well, then they’d need to be hauled out into the street and beaten to death with plastic spoons.

That damned Hurker! He had the neck to suggest to me today that he could find a buyer for our plant—if he was made a partner!” “I hope you told him what to do with that suggestion!” “I did. Told him I wasn’t selling, but if he wanted to buy a share he should talk to my legal adviser.” Marcus straightened in his chair and wiped his hands across his face. “And he told me that I had forty eight hours to reconsider my answer, or shipping might prove very difficult—and that there would be some queries initiated over my use of a dome now owned by CalBank!

Wearing a black belt does not make you a super hero, and wearing a white belt does not mean you have little to offer as a person. It is what we do in the belts we wear, and not the belts themselves that matter.

People love superheroes.  It's true we're  impressed by their bravery and fortitude, their supernatural gifts and physical brawn.  But the fact is, villains possess these same qualities.  So why our admiration for the hero and not the nemesis?  Because of virtue.   A superhero gives everything to defend what's good and right without seeking praise or reward.  Think about it.  All the great heroes give without taking, help without grumbling, sacrifice without asking recompense.  A superhero's real strength, what we absolutely fall in love with, is his finer virtue.

But one must remember that they were all men with systems. Freud, monumentally hipped on sex (for which he personally had little use) and almost ignorant of Nature: Adler, reducing almost everything to the will to power: and Jung, certainly the most humane and gentlest of them, and possibly the greatest, but nevertheless the descendant of parsons and professors, and himself a super-parson and a super-professor. all men of extraordinary character, and they devised systems that are forever stamped with that character.… Davey, did you ever think that these three men who were so splendid at understanding others had first to understand themselves? It was from their self-knowledge they spoke. They did not go trustingly to some doctor and follow his lead because they were too lazy or too scared to make the inward journey alone. They dared heroically. And it should never be forgotten that they made the inward journey while they were working like galley-slaves at their daily tasks, considering other people's troubles, raising families, living full lives. They were heroes, in a sense that no space-explorer can be a hero, because they went into the unknown absolutely alone. Was their heroism simply meant to raise a whole new crop of invalids? Why don't you go home and shoulder your yoke, and be a hero too?

I took in a deep breath, and smoke twisted around my head as I let it slip through my teeth. “Do you know what my favorite show was when I was a little kid?” The look again. “I would have no idea.” “Doctor Who. British sci-fi show.” “I am familiar with it. Christopher Eccleston, David Tennant, and Matt—“ “No,” I said. “The new show’s great, but I grew up on the old one. The low-budget, rubber monster show with Tom Baker and Peter Davison. I watched it on PBS all the time as a kid.” I looked out at the dark ruins of Hollywood, at the stumbling shadows dotting the streets as far as you could see. The only other living person within half a mile was standing behind me, her eyes boring into my head. “The Doctor didn’t have super-powers or weapons or anything like that. He was just a really smart guy who always tried to do the right thing. To help people, no matter what. That struck me when I was a kid. The idea that no matter how cold and callous and heartless the world seemed, there was somebody out there who just wanted to make life better. Not better for worlds or countries in some vague way. Just better for people trying to live their lives, even if they didn’t know about him.” I turned back to her and tapped my chest. “That’s what this suit’s always been about. Not scaring people like you or Gorgon do. Not some sort of pseudo-sexual roleplay or repressed emotions. I wear this thing, all these bright colors, because I want people to know someone’s trying to make their lives better. I want to give them hope.

S...For Stupendous! T...For Tiger, ferocity of! U...For Underwear, Red! P...For Power, Incredible! E...For excellent physique! N...For...Um...Something..Hm, well, I'll come back to that... D...For Determination! U...For...Wait, How do you spell this? Is it "I"??

Too bad I don't believe in heroes, super or otherwise.

I’m a super hero and I’m in a phone booth but those things have nothing in common with each other; I just come here to cry.

There was some kind of X-men emergency, so all the teachers were gone. This happens every now and then. It's one of the perks of having super heroes for your teachers - when the world is about to end (which is like at least twice a month), school gets canceled. Heck, three weeks ago there was a big chemistry final for the upperclassmen. Beast was the teacher - he's this big, burly guy who can do acrobatic stuff like a monkey, but he also happens to be a super-genius. He's, like, legendary for his tough finals, so there were kids walking through the halls, going, "Oh, God, please let Galactus try to eat the earth. Please please please let there be an alien invasion by the Skrulls!

Program your life the way you want it to be: don't waste the unuse energy that lodges in the matrix of your soul. You are transcendent, be a superintendent.

I kinda feel like a Bond villain. I just need a cat sitting in my lap. I could scratch their ears while I chuckle at the fact that a superhero just fell into a damn pit trap.

The three of them were the ultimate warriors we all looked up to. Until the day it all came crashing down. That was the day our heroes died. That was the day a new hero was born.

If I were a super hero, social awkwardness would be my power. My entire life, I’ve struggled to get out of my head, constantly overanalyzing every little word or movement or shift of a gaze. I’ve learned it’s easier to sit back and shut up. I find I don’t make as much of a fool out of myself that way. Quietude has become the law of my land, with silence being my official language.

People listen and accept because they have no option. The Super-class rules the world; their arguments are subtle, their voices soft, their smiles discreet, but their decisions are final. They know. They accept or reject. They have the power. And power doesn't negotiate with anyone, only with itself. However, all is not lost. In the world of fiction and in the real world, there is always a hero.

We’re a society that creates super heroes who aren’t really super heroes. They are just regular people who live in alignment with their goals and dreams. They don’t just talk about it, the LIVE it. You can choose to do the same.

All Superheroes are differently abled. All differently abled are Superheroes.

No war is ever glorious. Heroes are usually dead. Besides, they rarely turn into heroes because they are super-humans, but because of circumstances.

My body shook from pain, exhaustion, and the beginning of shock. I'd pay for all the powers I'd used, but the portal most of all. Good girls weren't supposed to open hell dimensions.

What does that mean? The Party Ponies?” Leo had never met Chiron’s crazy centaur relatives, but he’d heard rumors of Nerf sword-fights, root beer–chugging contests, and Super Soakers filled with pressurized whipped cream. “Not sure,” Annabeth said. “But I’ve got coordinates. Can you input latitude and longitude in this thing?” “I can input star charts and order you a smoothie, if you want. Of course I can do latitude and longitude!

Everybody, listen!” he shouted to the far-off crowds. “Rundark has super-powerful magical bombs. And they will be headed straight toward those giant vision orbs you’re watching. You need to get as far away from those orbs as possible!” And all around the Thirteen Kingdoms, seven people turned away from the orbs and fled. Yes, that’s right: seven. The thousands of others stayed glued to the action. They’d discovered a new form of moving-picture entertainment, and nothing was going to tear them away

I fantasize about killing people all the time. I think about how easy it would be. What if I just started showing up to Kitan rallies with an I-beam? Knock down the capitol building, force them to pass Universal Health Care, stuff aevery Ayn Rand fanatic into a big mason jar and hurl them into the sun. I could do it, you know. I really could. And then there's these people with their fucking sneers going 'You're a monster! You're a thug! You kill people!' No fucking shit I kill people!! I put holes in mountains! I break shit constantly without even trying! I saved the world on no less than seven fucking occasions, and guess what, super-accuracy is not one of my anomalies! Am I supposed to be impressed that you've never killed anybody? What a bold moral choice from a person who's terrified of violence and scared shitless of going to jail! It's like, have you ever had the option of murdering a bunch of people!? Okay, then why the fuck am I listening to your opinion on the matter!? Every day I don't kill a thousand fucking people, they should throw me a god-damned tickertape parade!

Even without being killed a man can experience death, he can conquer, he can realize the culmination characteristic of a 'super-life'. From a higher point of view, Paradise, the Kingdom of Heaven, Valhalla, the Island of the Heroes, etc., are only symbolic figurations forged for the masses, figurations that in reality designate transcendent states of consciousness, beyond life and death. The ancient Aryan tradition used the term jivan-mukti to indicate such a realization while still in the mortal body.

Wilbur looked at the list glumly. "Are you sure you need all this stuff?" "Yep." "The ax?" "The ax is critical." "The chalk?" "The chalk is super-critical." "The bungee cords?" "Bungee cords are the single most useful object in the universe, Wilbur. People may say it’s duct tape, but it’s actually bungee cords. All great heroes know this.

He doesn’t look a violent type—so polite, and so patrician. You never hear him raise his voice.” She thought about it. “No, you don’t, do you?” It struck her that the Captain exuded an air of quiet command. His ‘orders’ were always delivered in polite terms, but very few people made the mistake of not carrying them out immediately. “I expect he doesn’t usually have to though.” She laughed. “You don’t get appointed to command a ship like the Vanguard unless you know how to get people to do what you want them to.

Everything had happened so fast, I was not sure I had really understood all of the events. My owner Mala said I was not supposed to understand, since I was just a toy. And her mom, Mrs. Jones, said I was not the sharpest pencil in the box! What ever that meant…

I use Fiction to face Reality And write sweet Stories to avoid the bitter ones.

It seems as if from being a novelty nine-day wonder, the super-hero has become a part of American life. It's here to stay. For better, or for worse.

We all know starry-eyed romantics like love stories, but few would argue early and intense exposure to sappy melodrama causes a romantic temperament.

Yeah, I had to get in. The door was locked, so I grabbed a patio chair and viola! A glass of water." "Wow, you're my hero." "Shut up.

Fuck you . . . you fucking body-dysmorphia porn-addict trust-fund-baby compulsive-masturbation motherfucker.

Don’t play politics, Hill. Super heroes need to stay above that stuff. We can’t have Washington telling us who the super villains are.

Girl, how small is your brain?” I heard a familiar voice coming from behind. That was Wonder Woman. “Sorry, was I thinking out loud?” I apologized. “No, but I am Wonder Woman! I can read minds, you know”, she answered with pride. I have to admit, I was really impressed, I did not know my minds could write.

The lights came up as Dylan Raddeck walked nonchalantly into the room. As expected he stopped, staring at his killer … Eyes fixed on her target, Bast hesitated as James Heron appeared behind him. For a fraction of a second too long, she wavered, unable to decide her target, then she snarled, and fired a series of the needles at Radeck, seeing them strike exactly at her aiming point. The only problem was that he didn’t go down. Nor did Heron. Instead they stepped nimbly aside and an armoured figure behind them got off an accurate shot. It wasn’t a killing shot. It was intended to disable and disarm her—Mr Brown was specific, he wanted her alive. Unfortunately the prosthetics she wore to disguise her anatomy absorbed most of the paralysing agent. She screamed in frustration as she went down. With an effort, she turned her needle projector on herself, and fired.

Jason had never really considered how important Leo's sense of humor was to the group. Even when things were super serious, they could always depend on Leo to lighten things up. Now, it felt like the whole team had dropped anchor

Frank grabbed a tourist brochure stuck under the napkin dispenser. He began to read it. Piper patted Leo’s arm, like she couldn’t believe he was really here. Nico stood at the edge of the group, eyeing the passing pedestrians as if they might be enemies. Coach Hedge munched on the salt and pepper shakers. Despite the happy reunion, everybody seemed more subdued than usual—like they were picking up on Leo’s mood. Jason had never really considered how important Leo’s sense of humor was to the group. Even when things were super serious, they could always depend on Leo to lighten things up. Now, it felt like the whole team had dropped anchor. “So then Jason harnessed the venti,” Hazel finished. “And here we are.” Leo whistled. “Hot-air horses? Dang, Jason. So basically, you held a bunch of gas together all the way to Malta, and then you let it loose.” Jason frowned. “You know, it doesn’t sound so heroic when you put it that way.” “Yeah, well. I’m an expert on hot air. I’m still wondering, why Malta? I just kind of ended up here on the raft, but was that a random thing, or—” “Maybe because of this.” Frank tapped his brochure. “Says here Malta was where Calypso lived.” A pint of blood drained from Leo’s face. “W-what now?” Frank shrugged. “According to this, her original home was an island called Gozo just north of here. Calypso’s a Greek myth thingie, right?” “Ah, a Greek myth thingie!” Coach Hedge rubbed his hands together. “Maybe we get to fight her! Do we get to fight her? ’Cause I’m ready.” “No,” Leo murmured. “No, we don’t have to fight her, Coach.” Piper frowned. “Leo, what’s wrong? You look—” “Nothing’s wrong!” Leo shot to his feet. “Hey, we should get going. We’ve got work to do!” “But…where did you go?” Hazel asked. “Where did you get those clothes? How—” “Jeez, ladies!” Leo said. “I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need two extra moms!” Piper smiled uncertainly. “Okay, but—” “Ships to fix!” Leo said. “Festus to check! Earth goddesses to punch in the face! What are we waiting for? Leo’s back!” He spread his arms and grinned. He was making a brave attempt, but Jason could see the sadness lingering in his eyes. Something had happened to him…something to do with Calypso.

Mrs. Jones had always distanced herself from me and I figured that note had the answer: Mrs. Jones was a secret agent! And I was not planning to share that information with anybody. After all, that was the definition of a secret. Even I knew that!

I can’t be a hero. I can’t paint a letter on my chest like a super-hero and fight for justice, because I don’t even know what justice means. I’ve killed people, I’ve hurt people, I love people who’ve done horrible things. I can’t be an advocate. I can’t be an icon.

For the longest time I was only afraid of two things... The possibility that something bad would happen to someone I love. Which, when you're a super hero, is both infinitely possible... and seemingly impossible. I put my fears in a small drawer in my heart and tried not to think about them.

And you,” Phineas turned to Percy, “well now, you don’t even know who you are! I could tell you, of course, but…ha! What fun would that be? And Brigid O’Shaughnessy shot Miles Archer in The Maltese Falcon. And Darth Vader is actually Luke’s father. And the winner of the next Super Bowl will be—” “Got it,” Frank muttered.

My generation, we were kind of raised on the super-cool, “I can handle anything” with a gun in his hand hero. Any situation you throw at him, he can handle it—with catchphrases. It was very cool. But Joss Whedon’s version of a hero doesn’t always win. He loses more than he wins, and when he wins, the victories are tiny, but he takes ’em. “That’s a victory! I call that a victory!” It’s a tiny victory—he takes it, and that’s what he walks away with. And that’s something I can actually relate to.

Heroes aren't built from cloth and string. They're built from bravery, and from love.

I think super-heroes and religion are indivisible. I think they’re indivisible from Superman.

When two countries fight was, it's weapon manufacturers who win.

So I’m the Flash?" Xik frowned, baffled. "Afraid I’m not familiar." "He’s a superhero." "Superhero?" "A hero," Daniel said, "only super." "…how illuminating." "Don’t worry about it.

If I were a super hero , social awkwardness would be my power. My entire life, I’ve struggled to get out of my head, constantly overanalyzing every little word or movement or shift of a gaze. I’ve learned it’s easier to sit back and shut up. I find I don’t make as much of a fool out of myself that way. Quietude has become the law of my land, with silence being my official language.

It’s not easy to pledge yourself to a cause. Duty is like armor. It’s heavy, and it’s not always comfortable. It’s a promise to yourself to do what’s right. When your courage is tested, remain calm. Remember why you started. Then run as fast as you can toward the fight, knowing that no matter how it ends, you’ve stayed true to your cause and yourself. Loyalty and bravery, combined, are greater than any super-power.

There are threads of fiction intricately woven into our muscles. Fictional characters such as Superman, Black Panther, Wonder Woman etc., are birthed from something struggling to come alife from deep within us.

So what about you, Fern? Wonder Woman?” Ambrose teased. “Fern decided super heroes weren't for her,” Bailey said from the back. “She decided she would just be a fairy because she liked the option of flying without the responsibility of saving the world. She made a pair of wings from cardboard, covered them in glitter, and rigged up some duct tape straps so she could wear the wings around on her back like a back pack.

My enlightened racial consciousness demands that I reject the so-called greatness of William Faulkner and William Shakespeare. I don't have time for any of that Hamlet jive -- but Marvel superheroes are super cool.

All of Moore’s emphasis on the psychology of super-heroes in Watchmen wasn’t about making Rorschach crazy for the sake of craziness, nor to inject new levels of violence into the super-hero.  (If only Zach Snyder, for all his fidelity, had understood that!)  It was about making the super-hero realistic, because the practice of taking to the streets in costume would, in the real world, attract people prone to psychopathology. 

Gamers even develop some unusual emotional “superpowers.” Perhaps the most surprising power has to do with dreaming. People who frequently play first-person games (which graphically show you the game world from the point of view of the hero, like Minecraft, Halo, and Portal) develop two rather amazing skills: They can halt nightmares in their tracks, controlling themselves in their dreams the way they control a character in a video game.

When at last the time came for Wonder Woman's costume unveiling, the room was abuzz. Literally. Bumblebee's costume had malfunctioned again, sending electrical stings all around the classroom, which heightened the excitement.

The universe has certain rules. Among them are: He who owns a sharp tool will eventually cut himself. And: Laboratory accidents never result in super-hero-type powers. And most applicable in this case: He who laughs first gets caught. The first rule could be, at a stretch, applied to Tony Stark and the Iron Man suit, considering recent events. One notable exception to the second rule was currently swinging around New York City on a spider web, which did not bear thinking about.

Support Your Warriors I write about warriors; men and women who rise above the rest. Men and women who overcome their fears with courage and integrity. While some of my characters may seem like super heroes, the real life men and women who risk their lives every day to protect and to serve us are truly super heroes. Please support your warriors. There are a variety of worthwhile organizations that need financial support and/or volunteers. Visit a hospital, send a card, say a prayer. Thank you Sandy

Yes. It very much is. Especially if things are run by a bunch of old people who think the generation after them is full of a bunch of lazy, directionless kids. “Funny—they broke the world and created the problem, and somehow we’re supposed to fix it for them.

A great movie hero is JOKER. Man, we fucking hate that Batman motherfucker. Anyone who wants to take him down is obviously one of the good guys! So, a sleazy billionaire playboy – a member of the super-rich elite – is supposed to be the hero of the people. Get to fuck!

Seven Wonders, unite!" "Chicago Nightguard, TEN-HUT!" "Power ready and waiting!" "Let the Circle of Magi be one!" "Logarth of the Dereni affirms his readiness." "United International standing by." "Lady Liberty and the Presidents standing by." "Connectormatic standing by.

What I’ve come to realize I that I don’t like action for action’s sake. Mindless explosions, super close ups of combat and gore, and unnecessary effects make me zone out incredibly fast. What I do love is a fight that is well choreographed and in which I actually care about the outcome. And hopefully not riddled with cliches. Even more so, I have had a long, deep-seated appreciation for watching chicks kick ass. Watching some lone-wolf-type hero beat the crap out of the bad guys is okay, but watching a BAMF femme do it is 10000% times better.

THE BRANCH OF ECONOMICS concerned with issues like inflation, recessions, and financial shocks is known as macroeconomics. When the economy is going well, macroeconomists are lauded as heroes; when it turns sour, as it did recently, they catch a lot of the blame. In either case, the headlines go to the macroeconomists. We hope that after reading this book, you’ll realize there is a whole different breed of economist out there—microeconomists—lurking in the shadows. They seek to understand the choices that individuals make, not just in terms of what they buy but also how often they wash their hands and whether they become terrorists.

My father,' I replied, 'I am fond of action. I like to succour the afflicted, and make people happy. Command that there be built for me a tower, from whose top I can see the whole earth, and thus discover the places where my help would be of most avai1.' 'To do good, without ceasing, to mankind, a race at once flighty and ungrateful, is a more painful task than you imagine,' said Asfendarmod. ------ After saying these words, my father motioned to us to retire; and immediately I found myself in a tower, built on the summit of Mount Caf - a tower whose outer walls were lined with numberless mirrors that reflected, though hazily and as in a kind of dream, a thousand varied scenes then being enacted on the earth. Asfendarmod's power had indeed annihilated space, and brought me not only within sight of all the beings thus reflected in the mirrors, but also within sound of their voices and of the very words they uttered. (“The Story of The Peri Homaiouna”)

If I wasn’t super powerful, I would have probably peed my pants already. We entered the cave and Steve was already prepared, he had brought along some torches. “You doing alright over there?” I asked. “Y-yes…of course!” he replied trembling. “How far in does this cave go?” Right when I said that, a dozen zombies surrounded us.

Most of us though have this image of a badass as being a trouble maker. We can mistake rebellion and thinking outside the square as not being a team player. That's where we get it wrong. Along with owning ourselves, being a badass means accepting responsibility for our world. It means being willing to drop our armor and feel things. Brené Brown, the epic researcher who blew the world away with her TED talk on vulnerability, describes the ingredients even further saying that the qualities of being "tough and tender" equal "badassery". We can use our badassness like an alter ego super hero. Someone who gets things done because she's the one to do it. She might be afraid, but that doesn't keep her from honoring who she is and what she's meant to do in the world.

I understand your feelings, James, but I can’t allow it. If it helps, I’m not finding it easy either.” The Admiral paused, considering his words. He wanted to take out these Pantheon agents, every last one of them, and he knew which he was up against. But it looked like the price would be high. “Mars is like a bloody rabbit warren. The early settlements tunnelled all over the bloody place looking for water, mineral deposits, and, of course, to create habitats for themselves. They didn’t have the equipment to create the shields we have there now. Most of them gave up when habitable planets became available, and the attempts at greening the place fell through—and now we have squatters in some of the abandoned areas, and all sorts of questionable activities turning up.

One went to two, two became four and the series continued. The more I tried to pull out the more I got pulled in. Constant fighting at home and bad academic grades made my new found world even more attractive. There there were no compulsions, no obligations; where you were the super-hero slaying beasts, demons and villains alike; where everything was perfect and reality was left far behind. Page 13, Addiction.

He had one room above a thrift store. He had a trunk of books by Ayn Rand. He was short-sighted and reclusive, resisting pleas to take his photograph. He drew a super-hero comic. He saw the world in terms of black and white. He said 'A day's work for a day's pay. That is our one and only right.' He takes a card and shades one half of it in dark So he can demonstrate to you just what he means. He says, 'There’s black and there is white, And there is wrong, and there is right, And there is nothing, nothing in between.' That’s what Mr. A says.

Mad, in exasperation, cried out to the unseen force, “Why did you summon us? There must be a reason. Tell us.” She heard a dreamlike voice. “You are Stargirls.” The voice paused, letting the fog and confusion of their nightmare to lift. Lyn found her voice, “But why us?” “You are the chosen ones by prophecy; you have proven your worthiness. A time warp brought you here. The one you opened was no accident. It was left a hundred thousand years ago just for you. Your Star training as children has prepared you well. You are ready for the next stage in your evolution.

If you hang out with people who constantly whine about how tired, broke and worried about the economy they are, you’ll feel like a hero just for getting out of bed in the morning. Hang out with people who are living on purpose, who meet their challenges with a step aside, suckers attitude, who are dating super awesome people, making exactly the kind of money they want to be making (or working toward it) or taking the kinds of vacations they, and you, want to be taking, and you’ll not only see what’s possible for you, too, but you’ll have more incentive to follow suit.

I could go on and on with the intimate details about the various lives of people on the super-ambulance, but what good is more information? I agree with Kilgore Trout about realistic novels and their accumulations of nit-picking details. In Trout's novel, 'The Pan-Galactic Memory Bank,' the hero is on a space ship two hundred miles long and sixty-two miles in diameter. He gets a realistic novel out of the branch library in his neighborhood. He reads about sixty pages of it, and then he takes it back. The librarian asks him why he doesn't like it, and he says to her, 'I already know about human beings.

few years later, Demeter took a vacation to the beach. She was walking along, enjoying the solitude and the fresh sea air, when Poseidon happened to spot her. Being a sea god, he tended to notice pretty ladies walking along the beach. He appeared out of the waves in his best green robes, with his trident in his hand and a crown of seashells on his head. (He was sure that the crown made him look irresistible.) “Hey, girl,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. “You must be the riptide, ’cause you sweep me off my feet.” He’d been practicing that pickup line for years. He was glad he finally got to use it. Demeter was not impressed. “Go away, Poseidon.” “Sometimes the sea goes away,” Poseidon agreed, “but it always comes back. What do you say you and me have a romantic dinner at my undersea palace?” Demeter made a mental note not to park her chariot so far away. She really could’ve used her two dragons for backup. She decided to change form and get away, but she knew better than to turn into a snake this time. I need something faster, she thought. Then she glanced down the beach and saw a herd of wild horses galloping through the surf. That’s perfect! Demeter thought. A horse! Instantly she became a white mare and raced down the beach. She joined the herd and blended in with the other horses. Her plan had serious flaws. First, Poseidon could also turn into a horse, and he did—a strong white stallion. He raced after her. Second, Poseidon had created horses. He knew all about them and could control them. Why would a sea god create a land animal like the horse? We’ll get to that later. Anyway, Poseidon reached the herd and started pushing his way through, looking for Demeter—or rather sniffing for her sweet, distinctive perfume. She was easy to find. Demeter’s seemingly perfect camouflage in the herd turned out to be a perfect trap. The other horses made way for Poseidon, but they hemmed in Demeter and wouldn’t let her move. She got so panicky, afraid of getting trampled, that she couldn’t even change shape into something else. Poseidon sidled up to her and whinnied something like Hey, beautiful. Galloping my way? Much to Demeter’s horror, Poseidon got a lot cuddlier than she wanted. These days, Poseidon would be arrested for that kind of behavior. I mean…assuming he wasn’t in horse form. I don’t think you can arrest a horse. Anyway, back in those days, the world was a rougher, ruder place. Demeter couldn’t exactly report Poseidon to King Zeus, because Zeus was just as bad. Months later, a very embarrassed and angry Demeter gave birth to twins. The weirdest thing? One of the babies was a goddess; the other one was a stallion. I’m not going to even try to figure that out. The baby girl was named Despoine, but you don’t hear much about her in the myths. When she grew up, her job was looking after Demeter’s temple, like the high priestess of corn magic or something. Her baby brother, the stallion, was named Arion. He grew up to be a super-fast immortal steed who helped out Hercules and some other heroes, too. He was a pretty awesome horse, though I’m not sure that Demeter was real proud of having a son who needed new horseshoes every few months and was constantly nuzzling her for apples. At this point, you’d think Demeter would have sworn off those gross, disgusting men forever and joined Hestia in the Permanently Single Club. Strangely, a couple of months later, she fell in love with a human prince named Iasion (pronounced EYE-son, I think). Just shows you how far humans had come since Prometheus gave them fire. Now they could speak and write. They could brush their teeth and comb their hair. They wore clothes and occasionally took baths. Some of them were even handsome enough to flirt with goddesses.

These were the kids who would take LSD for recreational purposes, who relied upon tape recorders to supply the weird studio effects their music required and who could repeat the cosmic wisdom of the Space Brothers as if it were the Pledge of Allegiance. Brought up on space heroes and super beings, as revealed to them in comic books and TV shows, the whole galaxy was their birthright, just as Mad magazine and cheap B-movies had shown them hows stupid and flimsy a construct daily life could be. To the subtle dismay of their parents, this was a generation capable of thinking the unthinkable as a matter of course. That their grand cosmological adventure should come to an end just as Neil Armstrong succeeded in bringing Suburbia to the Moon is another story and it will have to wait for another time.

I was scared. I wasn't scared of monsters, or super-villains. But REAL things. What if the system doesn't work? Everything I've fought for. What if it's broken and unfair and unfixable? I don't know what makes you scared. What makes you rage, but superhero's never fix those things for us. Not even Batman. He can't fix REAL things because he's NOT REAL. He's a cautionary tale. A ghost. He fights our nightmares to teach us to fight the real terrors by light of day. He believes in us. He believes we will save ourselves. He's the superhero who sees in us the heroes we can be. And through him we're reminded that we're stronger for our differences than not. We might hate each other, or fear each other; but we're Gotham where brave new things are made. Truth is, I forgot that for a while. But, like everyone else our there, I remember now.

In the climactic scene of many Hollywood science-fiction movies, humans face an alien invasion fleet, an army of rebellious robots or an all-knowing super-computer that wants to obliterate them. Humanity seems doomed. But at the very last moment, against all the odds, humanity triumphs thanks to something that the aliens, the robots and the super-computers didn’t suspect and cannot fathom: love. The hero, who up till now has been easily manipulated by the super-computer and has been riddled with bullets by the evil robots, is inspired by his sweetheart to make a completely unexpected move that turns the tables on the thunderstruck Matrix. Dataism finds such scenarios utterly ridiculous. ‘Come on,’ it admonishes the Hollywood screenwriters, ‘is that all you could come up with? Love? And not even some platonic cosmic love, but the carnal attraction between two mammals? Do you really think that an all-knowing super-computer or aliens who managed to conquer the entire galaxy would be dumbfounded by a hormonal rush?

They,” he waved his hand out across the world, taking all of it in, every individual life and moment as though it were something that could be measured, known, and grasped, “they’re tired of being lied to. They’re tired of being taken in by this week’s outrage at last week’s Hitler of the moment. They’re tired of finding out that the thing they read on the internet wasn’t true. That cancer’s not cured by these five super foods and that you can, or cannot, see the Great Wall of China from space. They’re tired of having their heroes become all too real every time a celebrity gets busted for sex, drugs, or their disbelief in global warming, climate change, fracking, fossil fuels, cops, guns, or whatever we’ve decided is the new worst thing you can possibly support. When did we get permission to be anything other than what they want us to be? Which is just their heroes. All those people want out there, right now, watching this feed, is for me and my crew to handle this. And be heroes doing it. They want us to do that, they want to see it, and then they want us to come back next week and do it again. They could care less about how I feel regarding the latest war or what people do with their genitalia. They don’t need those things to actually enjoy this show.