Talent Hunt Quotes

And one more thing. About my name — Artemis — you were right. In London, it is generally a female name, after the Greek goddess of archery. But every now and then a male comes along with such a talent for hunting that he earns the right to use the name. I am that male. Artemis the hunter. I hunted you.

All right, so give me some idea of what you can do," says Haymitch. I can’t do anything," says Peeta, "unless you count baking bread." Sorry, I don’t. Katniss. I already know you’re handy with a knife,” says Haymitch. Not really. But I can hunt,” I say. “With a bow and arrow.” And you’re good?” asks Haymitch. I have to think about it. I’ve been putting food on the table for four years. That’s no small task. I’m not as good as my father was, but he’d had more practice. I’ve better aim than Gale, but I’ve had more practice. He’s a genius with traps and snares. “I’m all right,” I say.

Our culture has become hooked on the quick-fix, the life hack, efficiency. Everyone is on the hunt for that simple action algorithm that nets maximum profit with the least amount of effort. There’s no denying this attitude may get you some of the trappings of success, if you’re lucky, but it will not lead to a calloused mind or self-mastery. If you want to master the mind and remove your governor, you’ll have to become addicted to hard work. Because passion and obsession, even talent, are only useful tools if you have the work ethic to back them up.

There are two kinds of anger: hot and cold. Boys and girls experience both, but as they grow up the anger separates according to the sex. Boys need hot anger to survive. They need inclination to fight, the drive to sink the knife into the flesh, the energy and initiative of fury. It's a requirement of hunting, of defense, of pride. Maybe of sex too. And girls need cold anger. They need the cold simmer, the ceaseless grudge, the talent to avoid forgiveness, the sidestepping of compromise. They need to know when they say something that they will never back down, ever, ever. It's the compensation for a more limited scope in the world. Cross a man and you struggle, one of you wins, you would adjust and go on -- or you lie there dead. Cross a woman and the universe is changed, once again, for cold anger requires an eternal vigilance in all matters of slight and offense.

Tools amplify your talent. The better your tools, and the better you know how to use them, the more productive you can be.

One of the compensations for wearing a uniform and earning less money than an equally talented man can make in the real world is the off chance of being killed.

I don't have a talent, unless you count hunting illegally, which they don't. Or maybe singing, which I wouldn't do for the Capitol in a million years. My mother tried to interest me in a variety of suitable alternatives from a list Effie Trinket sent her. Cooking, flower arranging, playing the flute. None of them took, although Prim had a knack for all three. Finally Cinna stepped in and offered to help me develop my passion for designing clothes, which really required development since it was non-existent.

Simon laughed heartily. “I’m afraid the rest of us have to find talents to get our women into bed. Of course once they’re there, I have other talents that keep them right where they are.” “Handcuffs hardly count,” Christian said offhandedly. “If you mean the ladies cuffing me to the bed so they can explore Hunt Island,” he said, rubbing his chest, “…then point taken. These hands are capable of making any female climax by the mere brush of a pinky across her bare breast.” “I must have gone to the wrong island,” I said with a private laugh.

I wasn't aware that hope require a reason, any more than love. In case you have forgotten - I have no talent for hoping. I don't hope. I know. I believe. I expect.

Humans did not want to know about non-humans. Funny thing was most non-humans felt the same way, happy to hide their abilities and talents to avoid witch hunts and wholesale slaughter.

As a bird with beautiful feathers is the target of hunters, so the gifted are targets of the envious.

Everyone is on the hunt for that simple action algorithm that nets maximum profit with the least amount of effort. There’s no denying this attitude may get you some of the trappings of success, if you’re lucky, but it will not lead to a calloused mind or self-mastery. If you want to master the mind and remove your governor, you’ll have to become addicted to hard work. Because passion and obsession, even talent, are only useful tools if you have the work ethic to back them up.

It's quite impressive. You must be skilled with a blade." "I prefer the bow. Perhaps we could go for a hunt sometime. I could impress you with my very unladylike talents." As soon as the words escape my mouth, I realize how it sounded and I flush deep crimson.

I suppose I should wish you success, but that is too easy. I would like to wish you something that is harder to come by. So I am going to wish you meaning in life. And meaning is not something you stumble across like the answer to a riddle or prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you; out of your own talent and understanding, out of things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something, the ingredients are there. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you. If it does, then the particular balance of success or failure is of less account.

A lion is born knowing how to hunt, but has to learn how to hunt well.

Creativity is when a stupid clever soul gets up from bed and does amazing things that makes the world think he is wise.

No rugby player, no matter how talented, has ever won a game by playing alone.

If you can deny your talents, if you can conceal them from others or, even better, persuade yourself that they weren’t even given to you, you’re off the hook. And being off the hook is a key element of the industrialized school’s promise. It lets parents off the hook, certainly, since the institution takes over the teaching. It lets teachers off the hook, since the curriculum is preordained and the results are tested. And it lets students off the hook, because the road is clearly marked and the map is handed to everyone. If you stay on the path, do your college applications through the guidance office and your job hunting at the placement office, the future is not your fault. That’s the refrain we hear often from frustrated job seekers, frustrated workers with stuck careers, and frustrated students in too much debt. 'I did what they told me to do and now I’m stuck and it’s not my fault.' What they’ve exchanged for that deniability is their dreams, their chance for greatness. To go off the path is to claim responsibility for what happens next.

The Martin and Lewis Show was developed by NBC in the wake of the stinging CBS talent raids that lured Jack Benny and others to the younger network. NBC announced a talent hunt: the network was searching for rising young performers for radio and television. Soon thereafter a network executive caught the nightclub act of Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis, who had been performing together for several years and had developed some name recognition within the industry while remaining largely unknown to the general public.

You have heard that evil is a perversion of the good. The greatest goods can be perverted into the greatest evils. The poor man has not the opportunities for covetousness and self-indulgence which the rich man enjoys. The unlettered man has not the opportunities for intellectual pride and arrogance which the scholar may succumb to. An irreligious man may prostitute the flesh; but it takes a 'religious' man to prostitute the things of the Spirit and the Church of God. Every gift, every insight, ever vision, every talent brings its demand for self-forgetfulness in sanctified service: each brings its opportunities for richer worship or for more damnable self-love. The slum labourer may pervert beer and steak to the sole end of abusing an indulged body. It takes a bishop to pervert episcopacy to the service of self-indulgence; it takes a monk to pervert the religious life to the service of pride.

The other night I had dinner with a good friend, a woman writer whom I’ve known for about ten years. Though we’ve never had a romantic relationship, I love her dearly and care about her: she’s a good person, and a talented writer, and those two qualities put her everlastingly on my list of When You Need Help, Even In The Dead Of Night, I’m On Call. Over dinner, we talked about an anguish she has been experiencing for a number of years. She’s afraid of dying alone and unloved. Some of you are nodding in understanding. A few of you are smiling. The former understand pain, the latter are assholes. Or very lucky. We’ve all dreaded that moment when we pack it in, get a fast rollback of days and nights, and realize we’re about to go down the hole never having belonged to anyone. If you’ve never felt it, you’re either an alien from far Arcturus or so insensitive your demise won’t matter. Or very lucky. Her problem is best summed up by something Theodore Sturgeon once said: “There’s no absence of love in the world, only worthy places to put it.” My friend gets involved with guys who do her in. Not all her fault. Some of it is—we’re never wholly victims, we help construct the tiger traps filled with spikes—but not all of it. She’s vulnerable. While not naïve, she is innocent. And that’s a dangerous, but laudable capacity: to wander through a world that can be very uncaring and amorally cruel, and still be astonished at the way the sunlight catches the edge of a coleus leaf. Anybody puts her down for that has to go through me first. So she keeps trying, and the ones with long teeth sense her vulnerability and they move in for the slow kill. (That’s evil: only the human predator destroys slowly, any decent hunting animal rips out the throat and feeds, and that’s that. The more I see of people, the better I like animals.)

A slight boy with reddish hair, almost naked and clutching a bow, was inching his way on his belly towards a small deer. He slipped out an arrow with a curious hole in its point and sent it flying. The cunningly designed arrow made a distinctive whine, causing the deer to look up, startled – at exactly the right moment to take the arrowhead through its throat. The boy, a fatherless and banished nomad, was living in the forest with his mother. Fearless and brutal, he was also exceptionally clever, with a talent for seeing into others’ minds. He would soon kill one of his half-brothers in an argument about hunting. Though this happened in one of the most remote corners of the inhabited earth, a place of never-ending green plains, no buildings, and a vast sky, this boy would shake and reshape half the world. His name was Temujin. He would be known as Genghis Khan.

Jep has turned into an excellent cameraman. He shoots our Duckman videos and does a lot editing. Phil brags about how no one can capture ducks like Jep does. You have to be a hunter to do it, and Jep knows exactly how ducks fly and where he needs to be at all times to capture them on film. Plus, Jep isn’t as outgoing as Jase and me, so he works well behind a camera. He loves to hunt but doesn’t mind being a guy who sits and watches the action, and that’s something Jase and I could never do. Plus, I really like hanging out with Jep. He and I share a love for cooking and coming up with new recipes. He’s the brother I would always choose first to accompany me on a road trip for a hunt or business deal. He’s quieter than the rest of us, but his sense of humor is epic, and he is an awesome deer hunter. He accompanies me on many trips for deer and gets everything set up for me. I guess I have kind of prided myself on seeing value in people, no matter how big or small. When people are more outspoken about their talents, anyone can see the value, but for others you have to help them along to really unleash their potential. And hey, life is too short to spend it with boring people. Jep and I have the same spirit of adventure. When we travel, Jase and Phil will just sit in their rooms, eat some ham and cheese, and do nothing. Jep and I always need to kick it up a notch.

Meaning is not something you stumble across, like the answer to a riddle or the prize in a treasure hunt. Meaning is something you build into your life. You build it out of your own past, out of your affections and loyalties, out of the experience of humankind as it is passed on to you, out of your own talent and understanding, out of the things you believe in, out of the things and people you love, out of the values for which you are willing to sacrifice something. You are the only one who can put them together into that unique pattern that will be your life. Let it be a life that has dignity and meaning for you.

Westcliff turned to the black-haired man beside him. “Hunt, I would like to introduce Matthew Swift—the American I mentioned to you earlier. Swift, this is Mr. Simon Hunt.” They shook hands firmly. Hunt was five to ten years older than Matthew and looked as if he could be mean as hell in a fight. A bold, confident man who reputedly loved to skewer pretensions and upper-class affectations. “I’ve heard of your accomplishments with Consolidated Locomotive Works,” Matthew told Hunt. “There is a great deal of interest in New York regarding your merging of British craftsmanship with American manufacturing methods.” Hunt smiled sardonically. “Much as I would like to take all the credit, modesty compels me to reveal that Westcliff had something to do with it. He and his brother-in-law are my business partners.” “Obviously the combination is highly successful,” Matthew replied. Hunt turned to Westcliff. “He has a talent for flattery,” he remarked. “Can we hire him?” Westcliff’s mouth twitched with amusement. “I’m afraid my father-in-law would object. Mr. Swift’s talents are needed to built a factory and start a company office in Bristol.” Matthew decided to nudge the conversation in a different direction. “I’ve read of the recent movement in Parliament for nationalization of the British railroad industry,” he said to Westcliff. “I would be interested in hearing your thoughts on the matter, my lord.” “Good God, don’t get him started on that,” Hunt said. The subject caused a scowl to appear on Westcliff’s brow. “The last thing the public needs is for government to take control of the industry. God save us from yet more interference from politicians. The government would run the railroads as inefficiently as they do everything else. And the monopoly would stifle the industry’s ability to compete, resulting in higher taxes, not to mention—” “Not to mention,” Hunt interrupted slyly, “the fact that Westcliff and I don’t want the government cutting into our future profits.” Westcliff gave him a stern glance. “I happen to have the public’s best interest in mind.” “How fortunate,” Hunt commented, “that in this case what is best for the public also happens to be best for you.” Matthew bit back a smile. Rolling his eyes, Westcliff told Matthew, “As you can see, Mr. Hunt overlooks no opportunity to mock me.” “I mock everyone,” Hunt said. “You just happen to be the most readily available target.

I picked one of the black dirt-encrusted beauties up and breathed in its earthy, sensual scent. This gift of gourmet delights, worth its weight in gold, was clearly delivered by the cooking gods. "D'Artagnan and Aramis are not only hunting dogs, they're wildly talented truffle trackers,"said Phillipa. Thanks to the Times, I knew dogs had mostly replaced pigs years ago on the quest for truffles because they were easier to train and didn't chow down on the fungus after they found it.

There may be no advice given to young creative types more often than "Stay hungry." Hunger is encouraged by commencement speakers, noted as a requirement in job listings, looked back on fondly by one-time strivers now on the far side of their golden years. Hunger is everything because its nothing--not yet-- just raw promise, one lack that may eclipse others: talent, pedigree, luck. Like sharks, the hungry must always keep moving, hunting, killing, "killing it." We assure the hungry that they are poised to go far--over and beyond the bodies of the frightened and dull and easily sated. At the end of the day they will stand smiling, jaws bloodied, still wanting more. When we talk about hunger this way -- as shorthand for a certain noble stripe of ambition--we tend to obscure its roots in our bodies, our biology. Even in this strange sliver of the world where food is ample to the point of thread, hunger remains a real, animal sensation. Every few hours our bodies rumble with discomfort and we are expected to soothe them, whether or not we understand or trust the nature of their want. Perhaps this hunger is honest, or perhaps it's just that you smelled the cookies baking or you got stood up or cut off or side-eyed or just happened to see the clock hit eleven thirty, a time you were hungry before. Hunger confuses the needs of our minds with the needs of our bellies. Hunger lies like a child. But then, whether or not you give into your hunger, even if you give it nothing at all, it always slinks away; but then, it always returns. It is a fundamental condition. We seem to forget this when we talk about the appetites of the young. "Stay hungry," we tell them, as if they have been drafted into some cannibal army and must devour their own to have any hope of survival. "Stay hungry," we tell them, as if they have any choice at all.

their full potential? This is what I’d tell them: Our culture has become hooked on the quick-fix, the life hack, efficiency. Everyone is on the hunt for that simple action algorithm that nets maximum profit with the least amount of effort. There’s no denying this attitude may get you some of the trappings of success, if you’re lucky, but it will not lead to a calloused mind or self-mastery. If you want to master the mind and remove your governor, you’ll have to become addicted to hard work. Because passion and obsession, even talent, are only useful tools if you have the work ethic to back them up.

Exodus 35:31-32 says, ‘And he has filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill, with intelligence, with knowledge, and with all craftsmanship, to devise artistic designs, to work in gold and silver and bronze.’ Matthew 25:16 says, ‘He who had received the five talents went at once and traded with them, and he made five talents more.’ “And much it works the same way as for writers, even as it does for artists, and even, indeed, as it does for us bound by the holy Word,” said the old man. “By virtue of his creativity and the power of his generous talent, Mr. Brigham made loaves and fishes with the flour of the written word, and his talent multiplied itself through inspiration of those who would read his works and be motivated to create their own worlds beyond these.

The Most Widely Known Path If you're like most people, you believe landing an interview is limited to these three steps: 1.) Applying online, 2.) HR reviewing your application, and 3.) If your application is selected, the hiring manager reviewing it. You believe this because almost everything you’ve read comes from current or former HR folks. This process has significant flaws. Because the Internet made applying for positions easy, HR was drowning in applications. As a result, the HR Elimination system was born. That’s not its official name, but the name fits. The official name is Applicant Tracking System or ATS. ATS systems reject, on average, 75% of all applicants. Sometimes the rejection rate can be as high as 90%. J. P. Medved, content director at Capterra, a firm that helps companies find the right software for their business, said, Reducing the number of candidates might seem good if we're weeding out irrelevant resumes...In reality, many of these rejected candidates were knocked out of the running for bad reasons. An automated system, like an ATS, will sometimes reject people for very minor reasons, like incorrect resume formatting. Bersin & Associates, an Oakland-based firm specializing in talent management, tested an ATS system. They created the perfect resume for an ideal candidate for a clinical scientist position. Matching the resume to the job description from a leading manufacturer, they submitted the resume to an applicant tracking system. The ATS lost one of the candidate's work experiences. It also failed to read several educational degrees. As a result, the perfect resume for a clinical scientist position earned a score of 43, because the applicant tracking system misread it. Similarly, a Vice-President of Human Resources decided to test his company's ATS system. He applied for a job at his own company and received an automated rejection letter from the ATS.

Job Postings Say, “Do Not Contact The Hiring Manager” This seems logical at first. However, the Application Tracking System rejects anywhere from 75% to 90% of applicants, and the system is notorious for misreading resumes. So, if you receive an automated rejection letter, you have nothing to lose and potentially a lot to gain by contacting the hiring manager. For instance, Kelly Kinnebrew, Ph.D, an Organizational and Leadership expert notes that: "If you are targeted and make a strong case for why a contact would want to speak with you, I have found outreaches directly to hiring managers, VPs of talent and the like give back a reply probably 8 out of 10 times." In other words, don’t ever think the automated rejection has sealed your fate.

Ask yourselves this: Are you comfortable letting someone who would murder children rise to be the head of all Strategia? Strategia have rules; we have order. Jag breaks all those rules and yet he still runs this Family. How can this be? How can he be allowed to kill off the most talented students at the Academy, of all places, a time-honored institution where the child of every Family is an equal?" When I stop speaking, my dad is staring at me, proud. There are a couple of gasps in the crowd. I can tell Jag wants to muzzle me, too, but is too prideful to let it look like the only way he can control the situation is by gagging everyone.

The institutions of hunter-gatherer societies differed greatly from those of the settled societies they became. Hunter-gatherer bands, to judge by the behavior of living hunter-gatherers, consisted of just 50 to 150 people; when they grew larger, quarrels would break out and lead to division, usually along kinship lines. Within the hunter-gatherer groups, there were no headmen or chiefs. Strict egalitarianism prevailed and was enforced. Anyone who tried to boss others about was firmly discouraged and, if that failed, killed or ostracized. Most hunter-gatherers have no property apart from the few personal belongings that can be carried. Their economies are therefore rudimentary and do not play a major part in their survival. Genetically, hunter-gatherer systems probably gain stability from the fact that variance is suppressed by egalitarianism. Individuals with exceptional qualities, such as great intelligence or hunting skill, cannot take direct advantage of such talents to have more children because of rules that require a catch to be shared with others. The social behavior of hunter-gatherer groups thus had no particularly strong driving force toward change.

A Very Effective Path Adam Hyder, Head of Technology at Jobvite, a leader in Talent Acquisition software, analyzed Jobvite’s customer data set. Adam found that while referrals make up only 6% of the applicant pool, they accounted for 39.9% of hires

Cynthia Shapiro's take on Self-Talk Cynthia Shapiro, in her wonderful book, What Does Somebody Have to Do to Get A Job Around Here? says: What you’re telling yourself with your inner voice comes through in every stage of your job search process. When you have negative or insecure self-talk constantly running through your head, it will tend to govern the tone of your cover letters, e-mails, phone screenings, and interviews. Cynthia shares how successful athletes visualize getting baskets, making touchdowns, or hitting home runs. Job seekers need to do the same thing. We need to visualize succeeding in interviews, excitedly sharing our achievement stories, and enjoying getting to know hiring managers and their teams. Your self-talk plays an incredible role in your life. If you say anything that sounds the least bit negative, STOP yourself, and say: I’m better than that. I’m capable and talented. I’m going to share my achievement stories with hiring managers and help them understand how I can help them solve their problems.

The Buddha famously said that life is suffering. I’m not a Buddhist, but I know what he meant and so do you. To exist in this world, we must contend with humiliation, broken dreams, sadness, and loss. That’s just nature. Each specific life comes with its own personalized portion of pain. It’s coming for you. You can’t stop it. And you know it. In response, most of us are programmed to seek comfort as a way to numb it all out and cushion the blows. We carve out safe spaces. We consume media that confirms our beliefs, we take up hobbies aligned with our talents, we try to spend as little time as possible doing the tasks we fucking loathe, and that makes us soft. We live a life defined by the limits we imagine and desire for ourselves because it’s comfortable as hell in that box. Not just for us, but for our closest family and friends. The limits we create and accept become the lens through which they see us. Through which they love and appreciate us. But for some, those limits start to feel like bondage, and when we least expect it, our imagination jumps those walls and hunts down dreams that in the immediate aftermath feel attainable. Because most dreams are. We are inspired to make changes little by little, and it hurts. Breaking the shackles and stretching beyond our own perceived limits takes hard fucking work—oftentimes physical work—and when you put yourself on the line, self doubt and pain will greet you with a stinging combination that will buckle your knees.

Our culture has become hooked on the quick fix, the life hack, efficiency. Everyone is on the hunt for that simple action algorithm that nets maximum profit with the least amount of effort. There’s no denying this attitude may get you some of the trappings of success, if you’re lucky, but it will not lead to a calloused mind or self-mastery. If you want to master the mind and remove your governor, you’ll have to become addicted to hard work. Because passion and obsession, even talent, are only useful tools if you have the work ethic to back them up.

As you explore these DreamMaker stories, I invite you to join the conversation and to contribute your ideas, talents, and energy to making our world a better place.

...The lore supposes there should be conflict, hostility, battle, but I wonder, in contact with spirits, if what the boy needs is a good helping of cold anger." "Cold anger?" "Oh yes, don't you know the distinction? Tribal mothers always tell their children that there are two kinds of anger: hot and cold. Boys and girls experience both, but as they grow up the angers separate according to the sex. Boys need hot anger to survive. They need the inclination to fight, the drive to sink the knife into the flesh, the energy and initiative of fury. It's a requirement of hunting, of defense, or pride. Maybe of sex, too." "Yes, I know," said Elphaba, remembering. Sarima blushed and looked unhappy, and continued. "And girls need cold anger. They need the cold simmer, the ceaseless grudge, the talent to avoid forgiveness, the sidestepping of compromise. They need to know when they say something that they will never back down, ever, ever. It's the compensation for a more limited scope in the world. Cross a man and you struggle, one of you wins, you adjust and go on - or you lie there dead. Cross a woman and the universe is changed, once again, for cold anger requires an eternal vigilance in all matters of slight and offense.

She possessed no more answers than he did, but he admired her talent for finding very uncomfortable questions.

Go on a treasure hunt in your life. What did you get? How were your needs met? How are they being met now? What resources do you have? What are your strengths? What did your losses mean to you—what did you learn from your losses and from what you endured? How did your losses shape you? What are your talents, abilities, gifts?

As they say in the movies, if you want in, fine; if not, you may leave at this point, and nothing will ever be said. It is asking a lot to expect men to walk into a potentially dangerous assignment blindfolded.” Of course nobody left; the men who had been called here were not quitters. Besides, something would be said, and Davenport had a good memory. These were professional officers. One of the compensations for wearing a uniform and earning less money than an equally talented man can make in the real world is the off chance of being killed.

Hiring is like building a winning sports team; you need a combination of talent, chemistry, and a shared goal

If everyone in nature were too talented not to be hunted by others, everyone would starve!

Wonderful, beautiful, blissful, gorgeous, lovely. Adjectives floated around in Archer’s head like cherry blossoms falling in late spring. He wanted to laugh, shout, and run amok, singing at the top of his voice. Snatches of romantic poetry learned in his salad days came to mind. She walks in beauty like the night; shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? He smiled then, looking up at the ceiling above his bed. He certainly did not possess the talent to fit into words what he felt. Too bad Byron was dead. He’d have hunted him down and introduced him to Miri. The master poet would have found words to do her justice.

Poem for Vows Hello beautiful talented dark semi-optimists of June, from far off I send my hopes Brooklyn is sunny, and the ghost of Whitman who loved everyone is there to see you say what can never be said, something like partly I promise my whole life to try to figure out what it means to stand facing you under a tree, and partly no matter how angry I get I will always remember we met before we were born, it was in a village, someone had just cast a spell, it was in the park, snow everywhere, we were slipping and laughing, at last we knew the green secret, we were sea turtles swimming a long time together without needing to breathe, we were two hungry owls silently hunting night, our terrible claws, I don’t want to sound like I know, I’m just one who worries all night about people in a lab watching a storm in a glass terrarium perform lethal ubiquity, tiny black clouds make the final ideogram above miniature lands exactly resembling ours, what is happening happens again, they cannot stop it, they take off their white coats, go outside, look up and wonder, only we who promise everything despite everything can tell them the solution, only we know.

Enter to Possess… “And You told them to go in to possess the land that You had sworn to give them.” Neh. 9:15b What is holding you back from entering the land I promised to give you? What report will you believe: that the giants of the land are too great? That the obstacles are too many? That you are not strong enough, talented enough, or don’t have what it takes to be successful in what I am calling you to? Or will you believe this report: I will go before you and make the rough places smooth. I will go behind you and be your rear guard. I will walk beside you, upholding you with the arm of My strength, and keep you from stumbling. I will bring the mountains low and raise up the valleys so that you have a straight and level path to walk out My good and perfect will for you. I will overcome the obstacles that you cannot. Rise up in the power and might of your God. Enter and possess that which I have promised to give!

That afternoon, on a snowy hillside strewn with logging slash, she flushed and fetched a brace of grouse. Our hunt finished, we trudged home along the logging path as slivers of pink and yellow glowed in the gray western sky. I walked loose-limbed and weary, basking in the sense that I understood, really understood, what it meant to collaborate with a dog. To expand my instincts in partnership with a creature whose talents surpassed mine. To let her joyousness, her simplicity, rub off on me. The shed mind and intellect for a time, to soak up the hunt, to simply be myself.

Our culture has become hooked on the quick fix, the life hack, efficiency. Everyone is on the hunt for that simple action algorithm that nets maximum profit with the least amount of effort. There's no denying this attitude may get you some of the trappings of success, if you're lucky, but it will not lead to a calloused mind or self-mastery. If you want to master the mind and remove your governor, you'll have to become addicted to hard work. Because passion and obsession, even talent, are only useful tools if you have the work ethic to back them up. My work ethic is the single most important factor in all of my accomplishments. Everything else is secondary, and when it comes to hard work, whether in the gym or on the job, the 40% Rule applies. p249

Tracker Marks was of a different opinion. Though he seemed more white than a white man, he had no time for their ways. For him his dress, his deportment was no different than staying downwind in the shadows of trees when hunting, blending into the world of those he hunted, rather than standing out from it. Once he had excelled at the emu dance & the kangaroo dance; then his talent led him to the whitefella dance, only now no-one was left of his tribe to stand around the fire & laugh & praise his talent for observation & stealthy imitation. The whites have no law, he told Capois Death, no dreaming. Their way of life made no sense whatsoever. Still, he did not hate them or despise them. They were stupid beyond belief, but they had a power, & somehow their stupidity & their power were, in Tracker Marks’s mind, inextricably connected. But how? he asked Capois Death. How can power & ignorance sleep together? Questions to which Capois Death had no answer.

think I’m in love with this man’s tongue. If he’s as talented with his cock as he is with this part of his body, I may actually start a new religion. The Church of Bane Cock. I

RACHEL MADDUX | ON STAYING HUNGRY Hunger is everything because it’s nothing - not yet - just raw promise, one lack that may eclipse others: talent, pedigree, luck. Like sharks, the hungry must always keep moving, hunting, killing, “killing it.” - Scratch: Writers, Money, and the Art of Making a Living

It was pathetic how little prodding he needed to unleash the beast. Severus had been trying. So. Damn. Hard. To ignore his baser instincts. To dissuade her, to throw her off. Moira had become too comfortable in his company, and she didn’t know the danger she put herself in. But to insult his gifts. To doubt his power, the only natural talent Severus possessed… Well, she had crossed the line. And now she would taste the consequences.

We don’t fish for talent, we hunt for talent! - Bondburry Recruitment

Why does your girlfriend hate this place so much?” Fury kept her attention on the shadows between the stalls, the vendors and shoppers. “Her brother was a fighter here.” Hunt started. “Does Bryce know?” Fury nodded shallowly. “He was talented—Julius. The Viper Queen recruited him from his training gym, promised him riches, females, everything he wanted if he signed himself into her employ. What he got was an addiction to her venom, putting him in her thrall, and a contract with no way out.” A muscle ticked in Fury’s jaw. “June’s parents tried everything to get him freed. Everything. Lawyers, money, pleas to Micah for intervention—none of it worked. Julius died in a fight ten years ago. June and her parents only learned about it because the Viper Queen’s goons dumped his body on their doorstep with a note that said Memento Mori on it.

Jesiba chuckled again. “I worried, you know, when I learned you were Starborn. I’ve watched many succumb to the allure of being the Chosen One. Perhaps you and your brother have more in common than I realized.” “I think that’s a compliment?” “It is. Ruhn Danaan is one of the few who’s ever been strong enough to shun what he is.” Bryce grunted. “You don’t plan on doing anything with it, then,” Jesiba asked, more quietly than Bryce had ever heard. “Your talent. Or the Horn.” “Definitely not the Horn. And it seems most of the Starborn power’s value lies in what I can breed into the Fae bloodline.” Bryce straightened, twirling her pencil between her fingers. “And what good does blinding people do? I mean, it does have its uses, but surely there are deadlier weapons to wield?” Like Hunt’s lightning.

Bryce grinned, lowering her hand. She’d been meeting with Ruhn once a week to explore her magic—to learn more about what lay within her veins, fueled by the power of so many. Her magic only manifested as starlight—a purely Fae gift. No shadows, like Ruhn possessed, or fire, like her father. But the sheer force of her power came from all those who’d given a droplet of their magic to the Gates over the years. All combined to make some kind of fuel to increase the potency of her starlight. Or something like that. Bryce had tried to explain it—why the magic manifested as a Fae talent—but Hunt didn’t care where it came from, so long as it kept her safe.

Whoever had painted this had talent, capturing the somber expressions of Ione, Rhahar, and then Rhain, the God of Common Men and Endings often depicted in Atlantia. The red hair of Aios, the Goddess of Love, Fertility, and Beauty, was as vibrant as fire, not having faded in the years since the ceiling was painted. Penellaphe, the Goddess of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty, appeared peaceful and serene, while Bele, the Goddess of the Hunt, looked as I imagined she would if awake: like she was about to whack someone across the head with her bow. Even the different shades of skin, from the rich-brown-hued Theon, the God of Accord and War, and his twin, Lailah, the Goddess of Peace and Vengeance, to the deeper, cooler black skin of Saion, the God of Sky and Soil, were rendered with exquisite detail.