Thar Quotes

Coach Hedge yelled,“Thar she blows! Kansas, ahoy!” “Holy Hephaestus,” Leo muttered. “He really needs to work on his shipspeak.

For West is where we all plan to go some day. It is where you go when the land gives out and the old-field pines encroach. It is where you go when you get the letter saying: Flee, all is discovered. It is where you go when you look down at the blade in your hand and the blood on it. It is where you go when you are told that you are a bubble on the tide of empire. It is where you go when you hear that thar's gold in them-thar hills. It is where you go to grow up with the country. It is where you go to spend your old age. Or it is just where you go.

Aaarrggg, ahoy me matey, thars a great grand vagina over yonder." Penises talk like pirates when I'm drunk.

The Sneetches got really quite smart on that day. The day they decided that Sneetches are Sneetches. And no kind of Sneetch is the best on the beaches. That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars and whether they had one, or not, upon thars.

Now, the Star-Belly Sneetches had bellies with stars. The Plain-Belly Sneetches had none upon thars.

He felt safe with her. He'd never been safe with another human being, not since he'd been taken as a child from his home. He'd never been able to trust. He could never give that last small piece - all that was left of his humanity - into someone else's keeping. And now there was Rikki. She let him be whatever he had to be to survive. She didn't ask anything of him. There was no hidden motive. No agenda. Just acceptance. She was different - imperfect, or so she thought - and she knew what it was like to fight to carve out a space for herself. She was willing for him to do thar.

Everyone smiles in the same language, Happiness knows no frontiers, no age. No difference thar makes us feel apart if a smile can win even a broken heart.

Je t'aime tant, je ne peux pas trouver la fin de mon amour pour toi (I love you so thar I can't find the end of my love for you)

So I pulled the sun screen down and squinted and put the throttle to the floor. And kept on moving west. For West is where we all plan to go some day. It is where you go when the land gives out and the oldfield pines encroach. It is where you go when you get the letter saying: Flee, all is discovered. IT is where you go when you look down at the blade in your hand and see the blood on it. It is where you go when you are told that you are a bubble on the tide of empire. It is where you go when you hear that thar's gold in them-thar hills. It is where you go to grow up with the country. It is where you go to spend your old age. Or it is just where you go.

Fixin’ onything is man’s work,” came Opal’s firm answer. Tearin’ down or killin’, that thar’s easy. Any addle-pated fool kin pull the trigger of a rifle-gun or fling a rock. It’s fixin’ that’s hard, takes a heap more doin’.

Craiceann a shníonn go gléineach thar do ghéaga mar bhainne á dháil as crúiscíní am lóin is tread gabhar ag gabháil thar chnocáin do chuid gruaige cnocáin ar a bhfuil faillte arda is dhá ghleann atá domhain. (Leaba Shíoda)

A Cabinet Minister, the responsible head of thar most vital of all departments, wandering alone - grieving - sometimes near audibly lamenting - for a door, for a garden!

I was headed out down a long bone-white road, straight as a string and smooth as glass and glittering and wavering in the heat and humming under the tires like a plucked nerve. I was doing seventy-five but I never seemed to catch up with the pool which seemed to be over the road just this side of the horizon. Then, after a while, the sun was in my eyes, for I was driving west. So I pulled the sun screen down and squinted and put the throttle to the floor. And kept on moving west. For West is where we all plan to go some day. It is where you go when the land gives out and the old-field pines encroach. It is where you go when you get the letter saying: Flee, all is discovered. It is where you go when you look down at the blade in your hand and the blood on it. It is where you go when you are told that you are a bubble on the tide of empire. It is where you go when you hear that thar's gold in them-thar hills. It is where you go to grow up with the country. It is where you go to spend your old age. Or it is just where you go. It was just where I went.

The people are under arms tonight because they hope for justice for tomorrow, Some go about saying that it is not worthwhile…But this is because they vaguely sense that this insurrection threatens many things thar would continue to stand if all took place otherwise.

Time is all you have. And you may find one day thar you have less than you think

wi’ the boys. Thar’s a somethin

Pa pointed to a crumpled dollar and loose coins on the kitchen table. “This here’ll get ya food fer the week. Thar ain’t no such thang as handouts,” he said. “Ever’thang cost sump’m, and fer the money ya gotta keep the house up, stove wood c’lected, and warsh the laundree.

Ner'zhul... Gul'dan. Two of the darkest names ever to sully the history of my people. And yet, Drek'thar tells me that once Ner'zhul was admired, even beloved, and truly cared for the people whos spiritual leader he was. It is hard to reconcile those words with what Ner'zhul has become, but I try. I try because I want to understand. And yet, try as I might... I do not.

You know how to check fer thin ice, boy?" he would ask me. "Wall, what you do is stick one foot way out ahead of you and stomp the ice real hard and listen fer it to make a crackin' sound. Thar now, did you hear how the ice cracked whan Ah stomped it? Thet means it's too thin to hold a man's weight. Now pull me up out of hyar and we'll run back to shore and see if we kin built a fahr b'fore Ah freezes to death!

Thar is two things that every national crisis is bound to show up: first, a lot o' dum fools in command; second, lot o great commanders in the ranks. An' fortunately before the crisis is over the hull thing is sure set right, and the men is where they oughter be.

For West is where we all plan to go some day. It is where you go when the land gives out and the old-field pines encroach. It is where you go when you get the letter saying: Flee, all is discovered. It is where you go when you look down at the blade in your hand and see the blood on it. It is where you go when you are told that you are a bubble on the tide of empire. It is where you go when you hear that thar's gold in them-thar hills. It is where you go to grow up with the country. It is where you go to spend your old age. Or it is just where you go.

THE ANTINAUSEA PATCHES did not entirely eliminate space sickness, they did seem to limit its duration. Both Anne and Emilio were fine by the time D.W. called out, some twelve hours after liftoff, “Thar she blows!” Floating cautiously toward the cockpit windows, they caught their first glimpse of the asteroid.

Boggs comes a-tearing along on his horse, whooping and yelling like an Injun, and singing out: "Clear the track, thar. I'm on the waw-path, and the price uv coffins is a-gwyne to raise." He was drunk, and weaving about in his saddle; he was over fifty year old, and had a very red face. Everybody yelled at him and laughed at him and sassed him, and he sassed back, and said he'd attend to them and lay them out in their regular turns, but he couldn't wait now because he'd come to town to kill old Colonel Sherburn, and his motto was, "Meat first and spoon vittles to top off on." He see me, and rode up and says:"Whar'd you come f'm boy? You prepared to die?" Then he rode on. I was scared, but a man says: "He don't mean nothing; he's always a-carryin' on like that when he's drunk. He's the best-naturedest old fool in Arkansaw--never hurt nobody, drunk no sober.

How you find love means nothing. It's what you do with it when you see it thar does.

One of the boys pointed down the lane. “Lookee up thar.” “Ain’t we lucky. Here comes a nigger walkin’ to Nigger Town.

When you're sad, don't try to hold it in. It's okay to cry a lot. The tears are there be cause you've got to go on living. You're going on living, which means there'll be more things to cry about. They'll come at you from all sides. So don't ever try to hide from the sadness. When it comes, cry it out. It's better to keep moving forward with that sadness; thar's what it means to live.

This here’ll get ya food fer the week. Thar ain’t no such thang as handouts,” he said. “Ever’thang cost sump’m, and fer the money ya gotta keep the house up, stove wood c’lected, and warsh the laundree.

Analysis of termite hills has become a highly successful means of prospecting for mineral deposits, since the termites are sampling the geology at some depth. There is indeed gold in some of them thar hills.

Now, the Star-Belly Sneetches Had bellies with stars.1 The Plain-Belly Sneetches Had none upon thars. Those stars weren’t so big. They were really so small You might think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all. But, because they had stars, all the Star-Belly Sneetches Would brag, ‘We’re the best kind of Sneetch on the beaches.’ With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort ‘We’ll have nothing to do with the Plain-Belly sort!’” Dr. Seuss

There are our ghosts,' Smithers said. It was a word he liked to use, said Brewster. Like most of us Brewster had read a few ghost stories, and to him the word 'ghosts' summoned up the creaking floorboards of a haunted house, shrouded white figures gliding silently through darkness, fluttering robes moving of their own bodiless accord, strangely transparent coaches travelling swiftly down a midnight road, and other such images quite remote from the chanting and drumming of desert folk in gaudy garb, with jingling anklets and necklaces, under a hot fierce sun. But the sounds of the Thar came from some invisible source, and to Smithers they were sounds made by ghosts. ("Smithers And The Ghosts Of The Thar")

The voices got louder. “Here we come, Marsh Girl!” “Hey—ya in thar? Miss Missin’ Link!” “Show us yo’ teeth! Show us yo’ swamp grass!” Peals of laughter. She ducked lower behind the half wall of the porch as the footsteps moved closer. The flames flickered madly, then went out altogether as five boys, maybe thirteen or fourteen years old, ran across the yard. All talking stopped as they galloped full speed to the porch and tagged the door with their palms, making slapping sounds. Every smack a stab in the turkey hen’s heart.

And now, Mas'r George," said Tom, "ye must be a good boy; 'member how many hearts is sot on ye. Al'ays keep close to yer mother. Don't be gettin' into any of them foolish ways boys has of gettin' too big to mind their mothers. Tell ye what, Mas'r George, the Lord gives good many things twice over; but he don't give ye a mother but once. Ye'll never see sich another woman, Mas'r George, if ye live to be a hundred years old. So, now, you hold on to her, and grow up, and be a comfort to her, thar's my own good boy,—you will now, won't ye?" "Yes,

Who--Whoo--Whoop! Who'll come gouge with me? Who'll come bite with me? Rowff--Yough--Snort--YAHOO! In the name of the great Jehova and the Continental Congress, I have passed the Rubicon--swim or sink, live or die, survive or perish, I'm in fer a fight, I'll go my death on a fight, and with a firm reliance on the pertection of divine protestants, a fight I must have, or else I'll have to be salted down to save me from spilin'! You hear me over thar, you washed-up varmints? This is the hope of the world talkin' to you! I am Sam Slick the Yankee Peddler….

Tell ye what, Mas’r George, the Lord gives good many things twice over; but he don’t give ye a mother but once. Ye’ll never see sich another woman, Mas’r George, if ye live to be a hundred years old. So, now, you hold on to her, and grow up, and be a comfort to her, thar’s my own good boy,—you will now, won’t ye?

Brother Males and Shemales: Are you coming to the Health Bee?  It will be the livest Hop-to-it that this busy lil ole planet has ever see.  And it's going to be Practical.  We'll kiss out on all these glittering generalities and get messages from men as kin talk, so we can lug a think or two (2)home wid us. Luther Botts, the famous community-sing leader, will be there to put Wim an Wigor neverything into the program.  John F. Zeisser, M.A., M.D., nail the rest of the alphabet (part your hair Jack and look cute, the ladies will love you) will unlimber a coupla key-notes.  (On your tootsies, fellers, thar she blows!)  From time to time, if the brakes hold, we will, or shall in the infinitive, hie oursellufs from wherein we are apt to thither, and grab a lunch with Wild Wittles. Do it sound like a good show?  It do!  Barber, you're next.  Let's have those cards saying you're coming. This

Because I’m an atheist,” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly. “Thar she blows,” Harriet said. “In other words, I don’t believe in God,” added Elizabeth as the audience gasped. “Wait. Is that rare?” Madeline piped up. “Is not believing in God one of those rare things?” “But I do believe in the people who made the food possible,” Elizabeth continued. “The farmers, the pickers, the truckers, the grocery store shelf stockers. But most of all, I believe in you, Edna. Because you made the meal that nourishes your family. Because of you, a new generation flourishes. Because of you, others live.

Western notions of individual autonomy and rule of law simply do not apply in the desert. An attack on one tribesman is an attack on all, and in a landscape where a murderer can quickly and quietly slip away, it matters little whether the accused is guilty or innocent. His entire clan is held accountable for thar—retribution. The resulting skein of honor and revenge, so familiar in the modern Middle East, is eternal, seemingly without beginning and without end. When the first recourse of victims is to their cousins, and not to the police or to an independent judicial system, poverty and political instability are the usual outcomes.

Susannah: (sotto voce) Everybody's a goddam critic. Jake: Blaine, I have one more. Blaine: EXCELLENT. Jake: Out of the eater came forth meat, and out of the strong came sweetness. Blaine: (amused) THIS RIDDLE COMES FROM THE HOLY BOOK KNOWN AS 'OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE OF KING JAMES.' IT WAS MADE BY SAMSON THE STRONG. THE EATER IS A LION; THE SWEETNESS IS HONEY, MADE BY BEES WHICH HIVED IN THE LION'S SKULL. NEXT? YOU STILL HAVE TIME, JAKE. Jake: (shaking his head negatively) I've told them all. I'm done. Blaine: (as John Wayne) SHUCKS, L'IL TRAILHAND, THAT'S A PURE-D SHAME. LOOKS LIKE I WIN THAT THAR GOOSE, UNLESS SOMEBODY ELSE CARES TO SPEAK UP. WHAT ABOUT YOU, OY OF MID-WORLD? GOT ANY RIDDLES, MY LITTLE BUMBLER BUDDY?

I’ll tell you. Because you went gallivantin’ this afternoon and got yoreself into trouble through yore own fault, Mr. Wilkes and Mr. Kennedy and the other men are out tonight to kill that thar nigger and that thar white man, if they catch them, and wipe out that whole Shantytown settlement. And if what that Scallawag says is true, the Yankees suspected sumpin’ or got wind somehow and they’ve sont out troops to lay for them. And our men have walked into a trap. And if what Butler said warn’t true, then he’s a spy and he is goin’ to turn them up to the Yankees and they’ll git kilt just the same. And if he does turn them up, then I’ll kill him, if it’s the last deed of m’ life. And if they ain’t kilt, then they’ll all have to light out of here for Texas and lay low and maybe never come back. It’s all yore fault and thar’s blood on yore hands.

Jacob realized that if she kept on going like that he might very well cry out himself. But just then a voice outside the wagon called "JAKE! AIR YE IN THAR?" and he knew it was Sarah. "ANSWER ME!" she requested, so he did. "Yeah, I'm in here, but I'll be right out." He was bucking beneath the weight of Virdie in an effort to finish. "WHAT'RE YE DOIN IN THAR, JAKE?" Sarah wanted to know. "I'm havin words-" he panted "-with this here Rebel foe." He was nearly there, although he realized that the wagon must be visibly shaking. Virdie suddenly stuffed her dress into her mouth, but it was not enough to keep another one of her long groans from coming out. "JAKE!" Sarah hollered. "YOU AINT A-HURTING HER, AIR YE?" "Jist a little," he answered, "to teach her a lesson." And then he got there, rapturously, reflecting, Godalmighty, if I could git this reg'lar, maybe I'd jine the Rebels after all.

That’s the Thornton place up there atop yon hill,” the farmer said, pointing. Lucinda gazed in mounting anger at the large, but unimpressive cottage that was barely visible through the thick trees, then she turned the full force of her authority on the hapless farmer. “You’re mistaken, my good man,” she said stoutly. “No gentleman of consequence or sense would live in such a godforsaken place as this. Kindly turn this decrepit vehicle around and return us to the village whence we came so that we can ask directions again. There was obviously a misunderstanding.” At that, both the horse and the farmer swung their heads around and looked at her with identical expressions of weary resentment. The horse remained silent, but the farmer had heard Lucinda’s irate complaints for the last twelve miles, and he was heartily sick of them. “See here, my lady,” he began, but Lucinda cut him off. “Do not address me as ‘my lady.’ ‘Miss Throckmorton-Jones’ will do very well.” “Aye. Well, whoever ye be, this is as far as I’m takin’ ye, and that thar is the Thornton cottage.” “You can’t mean to abandon us here!” she said as the tired old man exhibited a surge of renewed energy-obviously brought on by the prospect of ridding himself of his unwanted guests-and leapt off the wagon, whereupon he began to drag their trunks and bandboxes off the wagon and onto the side of the narrow ledge that passed for a road.

A woman stood up, beaming. “Yes, hello, my name is Edna Flattistein and I’m from China Lake? I just want to say, I love the show, and I especially loved what you said about being grateful for food, and I just wondered if you have a favorite grace you recite before each meal, to thank our Lord and Savior for the bounty! I’d love to hear it! Thank you!” Elizabeth shielded her eyes as if to get a better look at Edna. “Hello, Edna,” she said, “and thanks for your question. The answer is no; I don’t have a favorite grace. In fact, I don’t say grace at all.” Standing in the office, both Walter and Harriet paled. “Please,” Walter whispered. “Don’t say it.” “Because I’m an atheist,” Elizabeth said matter-of-factly. “Thar she blows,” Harriet said. “In other words, I don’t believe in God,” added Elizabeth as the audience gasped. “Wait. Is that rare?” Madeline piped up. “Is not believing in God one of those rare things?” “But I do believe in the people who made the food possible,” Elizabeth continued. “The farmers, the pickers, the truckers, the grocery store shelf stockers. But most of all, I believe in you, Edna. Because you made the meal that nourishes your family. Because of you, a new generation flourishes. Because of you, others live.” She paused, checking the clock, then turned directly to the camera. “That’s all we have time for today. I hope you’ll join me tomorrow as we explore the fascinating world of temperature and how it affects flavor.” Then she cocked her head slightly to the left, almost as if she were considering whether she’d gone too far or not far enough. “Children, set the table,” she said with extra resolution. “Your mother needs a moment to herself.” And within a few seconds, Walter’s phone began to ring and did not stop.

You're a taffy-puller." "I'm a what?" "A taffy-puller. They hypnotize me. Didn't you ever see one? " I don't think so," she breathed. " But - " " You see them on the boardwalk. Beautifully machined little rigs, all chrome-plated eccentrics and cams. There are two cranks set near each other so that the 'handle' of each passes the axle of the other. They stick a big mass of taffy on one `handle' and start the machine. Before that sticky, homogeneous mass has a chance to droop and drip off, the other crank has swung up and taken most of it. As the crank handles move away from each other the taffy is pulled out, and then as they move together again it loops and sags; and at the last possible moment the loop is shoved together. The taffy welds itself and is pulled apart again." Robin's eyes were shining and his voice was rapt. "Underneath the taffy is a stainless steel tray. There isn't a speck of taffy on it, not a drop, not a smidgen. You stand there, and you look at it, and you wait for that lump of guff to slap itself all over those roller bearings and burnished cam rods, but it never does. You wait for it to get tired of thar fantastic juggling, and it never does. Sometimes gooey little bubbles get in the taffy and get carried around and squashed flat, and when they break they do it slowly, leaving little soft craters that take a long time to fill up; and they're being mauled around the way the bubbles were." He sighed. "There's almost too much contrast - that competent, beautiful machinist's dream handling - what? Taffy - no definition, no boundaries, no predictable tensile strength. I feel somehow as if there ought to be an intermediate stage somewhere. I'd feel better if the machine handled one of Dali's limp watches, and the watch handled the mud. But that doesn't matter. How I feel, I mean. The taffy gets pulled. You're a taffy-puller. You've never done a wasteful or incompetent thing in your life, no matter what you were working with.

STIVERS: In Infinite Jest you didn't mention online services. Is there a reason for that? WALLACE: To do a comprehensive picture of what the technology of that era would be like would take thirty-five hundred pages, number one. In the book, what I was most inrerested in was people's relation to filmed entertainment. There were other things, too. This is one of the ways that rhe cuts hurt. There was some more stuff that would have explained, for instance, the allusions to a virtual reality fad. My guess is that what's going to happen is that these things are going to be real exciting for a while, but the sheer amount of information on them is going to be overwhelming. What is going to become particularly valuable are various nodes and filters and sites that help you lock in and specify sorts of things that you want. In the book, "Interlace TelEntertainment" has become one of those sites. In the future, it is likely that concentrations of economic power are also going to be concentrations of informational power. For instance, in a way it'll be online; anybody who wants to is going to be fiction goes abie to publish a book on the net. The obvious problem, if you ve ever worked at a magazine or at a publisher, is that a lot of people write books but very few of them are any good. The person who is on the net, who has got maybe two hours to find something that's any good, will go to ner t magazines that act as filters and exert some sort of editorial control, which of course will simply mean that online we have the same elitism. What frustrates me is that people have this idea thar the internet and the web are going to be this tremendous democratizing force, that people can do anything they want. What they fail to understand is that people can't receive it all-their heads will bleed, right? So people are going to need help choosing. The places they go to for that help will have the power. They will decide; they will have the credibility. This is good since it isn't exactly the way it is in the publishing and informational world now but it isn't entirely different either.

Why do you go like this? Are you a thief?” “I’m going to kill him.” Shadows from the lamplight shifted on the old man’s features as he tilted his head. “What did he do?” “He kidnapped my wife.” “How do you know this?” “He threatened it. And it has been done.” The man stepped nearer the pickup, raising the lantern to see Arif better. “Truly?” “Truly.” “Is it tha’r?” A revenge killing. “Yes.” The old one kept the lantern high while he studied Arif from below. His tongue worked inside his cheeks, behind his gray beard. In the light, the man was not so old and blue-eyed. He pointed to the big house behind the wall. “You know who he is? This family, the Bayt Ba-Jalal?” “I know very well.” The old man squinted. “You have killed before?” “A long time ago.” “So you understand?” “Yes.” Slowly, the man inclined his head to Arif as if in the presence of someone exalted. “Insha’Allah.” If God wills. He turned to gesture the younger one forward. This man came leading the mule. The elder took the animal by the bridle while the younger man stepped onto the pickup truck bed. He was burly and the truck’s springs sagged under him. He bent, clasping his hands to make a step. The old man shook the lantern at Arif. “Up you go, then.

Lord! Lord! thar's such a sight of meanness in this here world that it makes a body b'lieve in Providence whether or no.

The Province of Sindh (now a state in Pakistan) is bordered on the east by the Thar desert of India and in the west by the mountains of Baluchistan; it boasts of the port city of Karachi as well as the remains of the Indus Valley civilization. Its history is chequered and is best known by the brief message ‘PECCAVI’ sent by its British conqueror Charles Napier to his superiors in the Bombay Presidency. Tracing its origin to the Indus Valley settlements of Mohen-jo-daro (itself a Sindhi word meaning the ‘gate/hillock of the dead’), Sindh was part of various Hindu kingdoms up to 712 AD when Mohammed bin Kasim conquered it and established Muslim rule. Various Muslim dynasties ruled over Sindh undisturbed until 1843 when the British decided that its strategic importance necessitated its conquest. The colonial policies of land and education tipped the economic and social balance. The Hindu minority of Sindh which had always been rich but unobtrusive, now cornered powerful positions in the nineteenth century, evoking a strong feeling among Sindhi Muslim leaders that they had not received their just desserts.

In the aftermath of Chickamauga, Forrest made a similar point to “a group of Confederate officers” as they discussed “the recent engagement and of military subjects generally.” Knowing the accounts of the “remarkable exploits” associated with their colleague, the “West Pointers, who were curious to know what tactics the great raider had used and what systems he had followed that enabled him to be eminently successful, plied him with question after question.” One specifically wanted to know what Forrest considered “the most important principle to be adopted in active operations against an enemy in the field.” In what the writer recalled was a “broad, uncouth dialect,” Forrest responded eagerly: “‘Wall, General, if I git youah idée, you want to know, sah, what I considah the main pint. Wall, now, I don’t know what you all think about it, but my idée is, to always git the most men thar fust, and then,’ he added, ‘ef you can’t whup ’em, outrun ’em.’” Aside from its practical application, the general’s observation reflected time-honored martial wisdom. The witness concluded simply, “It must be conceded that Forrest’s way of putting the Napoleonic maxim to ‘converge a superior force on the critical point at the critical time,’ was forcible and intelligent, if inelegant.”73

...faith must recognize the autonomy of reason and its ability to produce a rational, secular ethics. By the same criterion, reason must accept that it is legitimate for the heart, consciousness and faith to believe in an order and ends thar exist prior to its observation, discoveries and hypotheses. Once the distinction between the realms of faith and reason, and religion and science, has been accepted, it is therefore futile to debate, and still less to dispute, the hierarchy of first truths or the nature of the authority granted to their methods and their references.

It is in large part thanks to these immigrants thar Israel currendy has more engineers and scientists per capita than any other country and pro- duces more scientific papers per capita than any other nation-l09 per 10,000 people.t8 Jewish newcomers and their non-Jewish fam- ily members are readily granted residency, citizenship, and benefits.

Nuair a bhagras an nàmhaid, Air a' Ghàidheal a dh'éighear - Bidh gach morair is iarla Guidhe dian leibh gu éirigh, Bidh sibh measail aig diùcan 'S bheir an Crùn a chuid fhéin dhuibh; Ach nuair cheanglar an t-sith leibh Cha bhi cuimhn' air bhur feum dhaibh, Cha bhi cuimhn' air mar smàladh Thar sàl do thìr chéin sibh, Mar chaidh fearann a dhiùltadh 'S mar a chum iad na féidh bhuaibh, Mar a chu iad an t-iasg bhuaibh Agus ianlaith nan speuran. When the enemy threaten, It's the Gael who is called - Each earl and each lord Implores you to rise, Dukes show you respect And the Crown gives you its share; But when peace is secured by you They'll forget how you served them, They'll forget you were banished Far over the sea, And how land was refused And they forbade you the deer, And forbade you the fish And the birds of the air. - Ruairidh MacAoidh

From this basis, Boyd sets out to develop a normative view on a design for command and control. As in Patterns of Conflict, he starts with some ‘samples from historical environment’, offering nine citations from nine practitioners, including from himself (see Box 6.1):6 Sun Tzu (around 400 BC) Probe enemy strength to unmask his strengths, weaknesses, patterns of movement and intentions. Shape enemy’s perception of world to manipulate/undermine his plans and actions. Employ Cheng/Ch’I maneuvers to quickly and unexpectedly hurl strength against weaknesses. Bourcet (1764–71) A plan ought to have several branches . . . One should . . . mislead the enemy and make him imagine that the main effort is coming at some other part. And . . . one must be ready to profit by a second or third branch of the plan without giving one’s enemy time to consider it. Napoleon (early 1800s) Strategy is the art of making use of time and space. I am less chary of the latter than the former. Space we can recover, time never. I may lose a battle, but I shall never lose a minute. The whole art of war consists in a well-reasoned and circumspect defensive, followed by rapid and audacious attack. Clausewitz (1832) Friction (which includes the interaction of many factors, such as uncertainty, psychological/moral forces and effects, etc.) impedes activity. Friction is the only concept that more or less corresponds to the factors that distinguish real war from war on paper. In this sense, friction represents the climate or atmosphere of war. Jomini (1836) By free and rapid movements carry bulk of the forces (successively) against fractions of the enemy. N.B. Forrest (1860s) Git thar the fustest with the mostest. Blumentritt (1947) The entire operational and tactical leadership method hinged upon . . . rapid concise assessment of situations, . . . and quick decision and quick execution, on the principle: each minute ahead of the enemy is an advantage. Balck (1980) Emphasis upon creation of implicit connections or bonds based upon trust, not mistrust, that permit wide freedom for subordinates to exercise imagination and initiative – yet harmonize within intent of superior commanders. Benefit: internal simplicity that permits rapid adaptability. Yours truly Operate inside adversary’s observation-orientation-decision-action loops to enmesh adversary in a world of uncertainty, doubt, mistrust, confusion, disorder, fear, panic, chaos . . . and/or fold adversary back inside himself so that he cannot cope with events/efforts as they unfold.

Here thar be dragons, I thought. And those dragons will bite you in the butt.

Gentle With Them Thar Spurs'—a sequel to 'Riders of the Purple Sau-Sage.' Spurs was the feminist novel of its day…which was Tuesday." —Bats 2015

Some of you say, 'Joy is greater thar sorrow,' and others say, 'Nay, sorrow is the greater.' But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

There’s Gold in Them Thar Hills! Cuba has a history of mining that dates back to 1520, when the Spaniards opened the previously mentioned Jaguar gold mine. In 1533, the Jobabo mine was the site of a four-slave uprising which lead to their deaths. To intimidate the slaves and calm the colonists’ fears, the bodies of the strikers were decapitated and put on display in Bayamo. Although the number of strikers was small, the ramifications of this strike were lasting. For the remainder of the 16th Century, a number of confrontations continued between slave owners and their indentured servants consisting of Indians and African field workers. In most cases, their slaves just simply ran away. In 1550, needing replacement workers, Spain granted a group of merchants the right to import additional African slaves into Cuba. Working conditions under Spanish rule were generally unregulated. For the mineworkers conditions were deplorable and continued to be unsafe and unacceptable for another 400 years.

I sink into this moment, savoring what I’ve lost and found again. This love. This woman. This bond that we seem to have, thar we hid and denied for so long.

In retirement at Monticello, Jefferson again had ample time for hunting, and he was a true sportsman. His servant Isaac recalled: Mr. Jefferson used to hunt squirrels and partridges; kept five or six guns. Oftentimes carred Isaac wid him. Old Master wouldn't shoot partridges settin'. Said "he wouldn't take advantage of 'em"—would give 'em a chance for thar life. Wouldn't shoot a hare settin', nuther; skeer him up fust.

No I wont whip you. Never no more. Sit down thar all of you and listen to what I got to tell you. I hates to do it but I must. You all aint my niggers no more. You is free. Just as free as I am. Here I have raised you all to work for me, and now you are going to leave me. I am an old man, and I cant get along without you. I dont know what I am going to do.

They said “whar” for where, “thar “for there, “critter” for creature, “nekkid” for naked, “wider” for widow, and “younguns” for young ones.  They were always “fixin” to do something, or go “sparkin” instead of courting, and the younguns “growed up” instead of grew up.  Children were referred to as “little shits”.

The Swift pulled over right next to her Thar. The shining black of the Thar next to the fading red of the Swift. The cars knew each other very well. They seemed to greet each other and reminisce their many nights together, standing side by side. They also appeared to regret the long hiatus in the past year when they hadn’t seen each other, not even once. If only their thoughts could be conveyed to their masters. But they seemed to cherish the present moment. Nothing could change that. They were close to one another again. They had found one another again. Maybe this moment could reshape the future. The machines hoped so and at the core of their engines that created such hopeful thoughts was the intense love of their once seemingly inseparable masters.

Previously, it had brought her the names of famous men who had discovered things. She would bite her nails as she listened, telling herself that if she were a man she would be able to do likewise. Obscurity, she felt that these discoverers had no greater talent for discovery than she, only that they were men. Yes, a man could do things a woman could not simply because he was a man. He was not more able, but he was male, and masculinity in itself was one of the preconditions for discovery. But here was a woman who had made a discovery, a woman like her, not a man. The obscure feelings about her ability to make a discovery became clearer and she grew more convinced that there was something that waited for her to lift a veil and discover it, something that existed, like sound and light and gases and vapours and uranium rays. Yes, something existed thar only she knew about.

My girl, some boats are made for the river and some for the ocean. And there are some thar can go anywhere because they always know the way home.

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Cloisim tú ag glaoch orm san oíche ag rá liom teacht go dtí do oileán draíochta. Fuaimníonn do ghuth mar thoirneach thar an mbóchna. Is mórthaibhseach do ghlór agus is naofa— 'Tair chugam, tair chugam, einne atá traochta.

Hator načas htjedne upitati kuda točno ovaj namjerava da pođu, ali što od vrtoglavice što zbog pažljivosti jer mu se zapovjednik činio kratkih živaca ipak ostane šutjeti i ode uz pomoć njegova sina dvadesetak koraka dalje, kroz niski sit do kaldrme, a potom i do žute zgrade od nabijene zemlje i kamena. Ondje za zapovjednikom kroz širom otvorena vrata uđe, hodnikom škripava neka podaskana poda nastavi do njezina kraja, a onda prošavši i kroz druga vrata zađe na stepenice što su povezivale zgradu sa ulicom na toj drugoj strani. “Znaš, prijatelju moj, i u životima ljudi kakav sam i sam, kakvi gledaju činiti korisno i dobro a onda svejedno popljuvani završe ima tog zrnca čojstva, štono riječ. Čojstvo, ti si učen čovjek, znaš za taj izraz...” “Znam.” Hator odgovori i iskašlje se. “E, pa se sjetih tako jednom, jednom...”, mašući će rukom zapovjednik kao da priziva nešto čega se davno nije prisjetio, “nebitno kada, kad se tako pojavio jedan tat, dva konja ukrao bandit. I uhitim ja njega, zatvorim se sa njim, razgovaramo kao ljudi, i onda kad mu je kazna bila izvršena, on ode i prijavi me namjesniku zbog mučenja i tako dalje i tomu slično. Tada si rekoh: Eziše, ako ikada više budeš razgovarao otvoreno sa ikim, gledaj da to i bude na otvorenom. Zato ćemo razgovarati, ti kao Erionac, ja kao pošten čovjek, sa ove strane zidova... ovdje, to jest, gdje zidova nema.” “Pošteno.” “Pa sad ti meni ispričaj... jer čuo sam priču tvojih ljudi pa me zanima i tvoja... tko ste mi svi vi, gosti dragi, i što ovdje radite.” “Ja sam Hator Erionski, Prvi Učenjak kraljevstva Erion i baštinik Pripovjedača. Kao takav sam medijator Pobunjeničkih kraljevstava i Dvorca Pet Vrhova. Ljudi sa kojima ste razgovarali po svoj su prilici Thar Pukovnik i Ser Parksus, kao i vitezovi pod njihovom komandom. Svi smo ovdje zbog jedne jedine ideje: da pružimo ruku pomirenja Thargelionu i zajednički se obranimo od sila većih od nas.” “A potom kud koji...?” “A potom kud koji.

Speakin' of the Jones an' Plummer trail, I once hears a dance-hall girl who volunteers some songs over in a Tucson hurdygurdy, an' that maiden sort o' dims my sights some. First, she gives us The Dying Ranger, the same bein' enough of itse'f to start a sob or two; speshul when folks is, as Colonel Sterett says, 'a leetle drinkin'.' Then when the public clamours for more she sings something which begins: "'Thar's many a boy who once follows the herds,     On the Jones an' Plummer trail;   Some dies of drink an' some of lead,   An' some over kyards, an' none in bed;   But they're dead game sports, so with naught but good words,     We gives 'em "Farewell an' hail."' "Son, this sonnet brings down mem'ries; and they so stirs me I has to vamos that hurdygurdy to keep my emotions from stampedin' into tears. Shore, thar's soft spots in me the same as in oilier gents; an' that melody a-makin' of references to the old Jones an' Plummer days comes mighty clost to meltin' everything about me but my guns an' spurs.

One winter in Manila in the mid-1930s, Wylie walked into the wardroom of his ship, the heavy cruiser Augusta (Captain Chester W. Nimitz commanding), and encountered a “fist-banging argument” between two of the ship’s up-and-coming young officers. At issue was what it took to become skilled at rifle or pistol marksmanship. One officer, Lloyd Mustin, said that only someone born with a special gift could learn to do it well. The other, a marine named Lewis B. Puller, said, “I can take any dumb son of a bitch and teach him to shoot.” Mustin would go on to become one of the Navy’s pioneers in radar-controlled gunnery. Puller would ascend to general, the most decorated U.S. Marine in history. Gesturing to Wylie standing in the doorway, Chesty Puller declared, “I can even teach him.” A ten-dollar bet ensued. The next time the Augusta’s marine detachment found time to do their annual qualifications at the rifle range, Wylie was Puller’s special guest. And by the end of the experiment, he was the proud owner of a Marine medal designating him an expert rifleman. The experience helped Wylie understand both native gifts and teachable skills and predisposed him to work with the rural kids under him. Now he could smile when the sighting of an aircraft approaching at a distant but undetermined range came through the Fletcher’s bridge phones as, “Hey, Cap’n, here’s another one of them thar aero-planes, but don’t you fret none. She’s a fur piece yet.” Wylie was a good enough leader to appreciate what the recruits from the countryside brought to the game. “They were highly motivated,” he said. “They just came to fight.

In his 1961 story about the Sneetches, Dr. Seuss introduced us to two groups of Sneetches, one with stars on their bellies and the other with none. The ones without stars wanted desperately to get stars so they could feel like they fit in. They were willing to go to extreme lengths and pay larger and larger sums of money simply to feel like they were part of a group. But only Sylvester McMonkey McBean, the man whose machine puts "stars upon thars," profited from the Sneetches' desire to fit in.

I can help with Mari. Help with food. I’m strong.” I lift an arm, flex a muscle, and pat my bicep. “Strong.” R’jaal’s lips twitch as if he’s doing his best not to laugh. K’thar just looks proudly at me.

Take a balanced attitude to risk-taking and childhood independence. Many children now are discouraged from taking even small risks, and not given much independence at all; this is something I often witness in playgrounds or at the park, with children chided for getting mud on their hands or for climbing ‘too high’ up a climbing frame. The amount of risk children can be safely exposed to will, of course, vary, depending on age and ability — I’m not suggesting you let your young child cross the road by themselves, or allow your thirteen-year-old to go backpacking alone — but there are many benefits to risky play thar allows children to assess danger for themselves, something they will need to learn to do eventually.