Voyage Of The Damned Quotes

I am a coward, damn you! I couldna tell ye, for fear ye would leave me, and unmanly thing that I am, I thought I couldna bear that!

Damn you, Sassenach!" his voice said, from a very great distance. His voice was choked with passion. "Dam you! I swear if ye die on me, I'll kill you!

Why?" I shrieked, hitting him again and again, and again, the sound of the blows thudding against his chest. "Why, why why!". Because I was afraid!" He got hold of my wrists and threw me backward so I fell across the bed. He stood over me, fists clenched, breathing hard. I am a coward, damn you! I couldna tell ye, for fear ye would leave me, and unmanly thing that I am, I thought I couldna bear that!" ~~~~~~~~~ You should have told me!" And if I had?, You'd have turned on your heel and gone without a word. And having seen ye again--I tell ye, I would ha' done far worse than lie to keep you!" Voyager

Damn you, Sassenach!" his voice said, from a very great distance. His voice was choked with passion. "Damn you! I swear if ye die on me, I'll kill you!

Damn ye, woman! Will ye never do as you’re told?” “Probably not,” I said meekly.

As if the restrictive shell of a body is more important than the infinite possibilities of a mind.

He looked like Bree, didn’t he? He was like her?” “Yes.” He breathed heavily, almost a snort. “I could see it in your face—when you’d look at her, I could see you thinking of him. Damn you, Claire Beauchamp,” he said, very softly.

Jesus H. Christ!” I exclaimed. I felt it again, unbelieving, but there it was. “You always said your head was solid bone, and I’ll be damned if you weren’t right. She shot you point-blank, and the bloody ball bounced off your skull!” Jamie,

My father always says: 'You can't run from your responsibilities,' but he lacks imagination. Besides, I'm not running. I'm sidestepping. Crossing the road so me and my responsibilities don't make eye contact and aren't forced into awkward small talk both of us know isn't going anywhere.

Directly anything happens—it may be a marriage, or a birth, or a death—on the whole they prefer it to be a death—every one wants to see you. They insist upon seeing you. They've got nothing to say; they don't care a rap for you; but you've got to go to lunch or to tea or to dinner, and if you don't you're damned. It's the smell of blood," she continued; "I don't blame 'em; only they shan't have mind if I know it!

There once was a mouse who lived in a tavern. One night the mouse found a leaky barrel of beer, and he drank all he could hold. When the mouse had finished, he sat up, twirled his whiskers, and looked around arrogantly. “Now then,” he said, “where’s that damned cat?

Damn! Blazing Hades! That filth-eating son of a pig-fart!

How can I defeat death when she got there before me? When she's had years to feast on him?

You don't need a Blessing to be a miracle.

Your personality is large enough. I think a big cock would be overkill.

How rare and beautiful a thing, I thought, that this child of two worlds exists at the same time, in the same place as me.

I know those eyes. I see them in the gloom of a storm. I see them in the blackness of the deepest parts of the ocean. I see them in the dark places of my mind, where only silence and surrender live. I know Ravi's eyes better than my own.

There’s something sad about people going to bed. You can see they don’t give a damn wether they’re getting what they want out of life or not, you can see they don’t even try to understand what we’re here for. They just don’t care. Americans or not, they sleep no matter what, they’re bloated molluscs, no sensibility, no trouble with their conscience.

Damn, but it was a night, Ned! Now, not to be outdone, it appears our reverend mother Hayes is inspired by Captain Cook's latest voyage to the South Pacific." "I give the woman credit for creativity." Ned laughed. "Have you read John Hawkesworth's account of the voyage?" Ludovic's brows lifted ever so slightly. "Come now, Ned, do I truly look like a man who entertains himself with books?

I can’t believe this. You go ashore for two hours of trade, and somehow you’ve exchanged an experienced sailor for a governess.” “Well, and goats. I did buy a few goats-the boatman will have them out presently.” “Damn it, don’t try to change the subject. Crew and passengers are supposed to be my responsibility. Am I captain of this ship or not?” “Yes, Joss, you’re the captain. But I’m the investor. I don’t want Bains near my cargo, and I’d like at least one paying passenger on this voyage, if I can get one. I didn’t have that steerage compartment converted to cabins for a lark, you realize.” “If you think I’ll believe your interest in that girl lies solely in her six pound sterling…” Gray shrugged. “Since you mention it, I quite admired her brass as well.” “You know damn well what I mean. A young lady, unescorted…” He looked askance at Gray. “It’s asking for trouble.” “Asking for trouble?” Gray echoed, hoping to lighten the conversation. “Since when does the Aphrodite need to go asking for trouble? We’ve stowed more trouble than cargo on this ship.” He leaned back, propping both elbows on the ship’s rail. “And as trouble goes, Miss Turner’s variety looks a damn sight better than most alternatives. Perhaps you could do with a bit of trouble yourself.

But I went on thinking about false teeth, and then about piano-keys and about that time the blind man from Martinique came to tune the piano and then he played and we listened to him sitting in the dark with the jalousies shut because it was pouring with rain and my father said, 'You are a real musician.' He had a red moustache, my father. And Hester was always saying, 'Poor Gerald, poor Gerald.' But if you'd seen him walking up Market Street, swinging his arms and with his brown shoes flashing in the sun, you wouldn't have been sorry for him. That time when he say, 'The Welsh word for grief is hiraeth.' Hiraeth. And that time when I was crying about nothing and I thought he'd be wild, but he hugged me up and he didn't say anything. I had on a coral brooch and it got crushed. He hugged me up and then he said, 'I believe you're going to be like me, you poor little devil.' And that time when Mr Crowe said, 'You don't mean to say you're backing up that damned French monkey?' meaning the Governor, 'I've met some Englishmen,' he said, 'who were monkeys too.

When he’d ordered the Aphrodite converted to accommodate passengers, the builder had given him an option. Did he want four gentlemen’s cabins, similar to the ladies’? Or would he prefer to squeeze six smaller berths into the same space? Gray’s answer? Six, of course. No question about it. Two extra beds meant two extra fares. He hadn’t dreamed he’d one day occupy one of these cramped berths. Six feet of angry man, lashed into a five-foot bunk, in the midst of a howling gale-it wasn’t a recipe for a good night’s sleep. Gray craved the space and comfort of his former quarters aboard the Aphrodite-the captain’s cabin. But as his brother had so officiously pointed out, Gray wasn’t the captain of this ship anymore. Throw his arse in the brig, had Joss threatened? Gray tossed indignantly, his chest straining against the ropes hat held him in the child-sized bed. The ship’s brig didn’t sound so bad right now. He’d put up with a few iron bars, the rancid bilgewater and rats, if it meant he could stretch his legs properly. Hell, this room was so damned small, he couldn’t even get his blasted boots off. He kicked the wall of his berth, no doubt scuffing the shine on his new Hessians. He hated the cursed things anyway. They pinched his feet. Why the devil he’d thought it a brilliant notion to get all dandified for this voyage, Gray couldn’t remember. Just who was he trying to impress? Stubb?

The girl really needed to let him go. This was the voyage Gray went respectable. And it was off to a very bad start. It was all her fault-this delicate wisp of a governess, with that porcelain complexion and her big, round eyes tilting up at him like Wedgwood teacups. She looked as if she might break if he breathed on her wrong, and those eyes keep beseeching him, imploring him, making demands. Please, rescue me from this pawing brute. Please, take me on your ship and away to Tortola. Please, strip me out of this revolting gown and initiate me in the pleasure of the flesh right here on the barstool. Well, innocent miss that she was, she might have lacked words to voice the third quite that way. But worldly man that he was, Gray cold interpret the silent petition quite clearly. He only wished he could discourage his body’s instinctive, affirmative response. He didn’t know what to do with the girl. He ought to do the respectable thing, seeing as how this voyage marked the beginning of his respectable career. But Miss Turner had him pegged. He was no kind of gentleman, and damned if he knew the respectable thing. Allowing a young, unmarried, winsome lady to travel unaccompanied probably wasn’t it. But then, if he refused her, who was to say she wouldn’t end up in an even worse situation? The chit couldn’t handle herself for five minutes in a tavern. Was he truly going to turn her loose on the Gravesend quay?

Agitated, he hooked a finger under his neck cloth and pulled it loose. “Care for her,” he muttered. “How could that be possible? I’ve scarcely gone near the woman in weeks.” “I don’t know how it’s possible, but it seems to be true. In fact, I think you’re half in love with her. More than half, perhaps.” Rising from his chair, Gray straightened to his full height. “Now wait. I’m half out of my mind with lust, I’ll grant you that. More than half, perhaps. But I’m certainly not in love with that girl. Don’t forget who you’re talking to, Joss. I keep my conscience in my bank account, remember? I don’t even know what love looks like.” Joss paused over his desk. “I know what love looks like. Using up all those Portuguese on one meal, killing a valuable goat, bringing out porcelain from the cargo hold…Crack one plate, and you’d lose half the set’s price. Serving meat onto a lady’s plate.” He shrugged. “Love looks something like that.” Gray ran his hands through his hair, shaking off the lunatic notion before it could take root in his brain. “I’m telling you, I’m not in love. I’m just too damned bored. I’ve nothing to do on this voyage but plan dinner parties. And it’s about to get worse. No chance of cracking a plate tonight.” He jerked his chin at the lamp dangling from a hook, which on any normal night would have been swaying in time with the waves. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re becalmed.” “I’d noticed.” Joss grimaced and motioned for the flask. Gray tossed it to him. “Good thing we’ve given the men a fine meal and grog tonight. Becalming’s never good for the crew’s morale.” “Not good for the investor’s morale, either.” Gray rubbed his temples. “Let’s hope it doesn’t last.

A few days later, Dr. Ambler told De Long of a curious dream he'd had about Edison's lamps. In the dream, Sir John Franklin, the long-lost British explorer, had come aboard the Jeanette for a tour. Dr. Ambler led Franklin all over the ship and told him excitedly about Edison's electric lights, an invention that, of course, wasn't even dreamed about in Franklin's day. But Franklin bluntly interrupted him. "Your electric machine," he said, "is not worth a damn.

solution to the situation; there was every possibility that it might also reflect Batista’s wishes. He had quickly accepted the proposal—with one important proviso. He argued that it would be an act of good faith on the part of the Cuban government to allow the passengers

He heard a small, stealthy sound, and sat up abruptly, his eyes popping open. A large brown rat sat on the corner of his desk, a morsel of plum cake held in its front paws. It didn’t move, but merely looked at him speculatively, whiskers twitching. “Well, God damn my eyes!” Grey exclaimed in amazement. “Here, you bugger! That’s my supper!” The rat nibbled pensively at the plum cake, bright beady eyes fixed on the Major. “Get out of it!” Enraged, Grey snatched up the nearest object and let fly at the rat.

For a friend, John,” he said. “And if I’ll take your friendship—and your damned boat!—then you’ll take mine, and keep quiet. Aye?

Smart, hard-working people aren't exempted from professional disasters of overconfidence. Often, they just go aground in the more difficult voyages they choose, relying on their self-appraisals that they have superior talents and methods."39

a damned soul is nearly nothing: it is shrunk, shut up in itself. Good beats upon the damned incessantly as sound waves beat on the ears of the deaf, but they cannot receive it. Their fists are clenched, their teeth are clenched, their eyes fast shut. First they will not, in the end they cannot, open their hands for gifts, or their mouth for food, or their eyes to see.

The ‘music’ sounds like how a firework would taste, fired directly into your mouth.

Don’t worry!’ she says upon seeing my horrified expression. ‘The lower classes are comprised only of those with deep moral failings.’ Well, that’s a relief.

Back home we speak what’s in our hearts,’ she says—which is lovely. And then: ‘Because any day a tree can fall and crush your skull.’ Which is less so.

There are two things which are undeniably cool: walking away from explosions without looking back, and turning up late to parties.

Now they are known as the Shamed One.’ ‘Because they tried to kill the emperor.’ ‘No,’ Nergüi says swiftly. ‘Because they failed.

On the other hand, this couldn’t be heaven, on several counts. For one, he didn’t deserve it. For another, it didn’t look it. And for a third, he doubted that the rewards of the blessed included a broken nose, any more than those of the damned.

Take ye and be damned for it, I expect,” he said. He kissed my forehead gently. “Loving you has put me through hell more than once, Sassenach; I’ll risk it again, if need be.

looked

Ye mind me o’ your uncle Dougal, a sionnach,” she said, tilting her head to one side coquettishly. “He was older when I met him than you are now, but you’ve the look of him about ye, aye? Like ye’d take what ye pleased and damn anyone who stands in your way.” Jamie

That was the other advantage to walking. It gave you time to think. To explore things down to the roots. If a voyage was a transition from one place to another, it made sense for it to take place over a transition in time, too. Cars, planes, they obliterated that transition, making a separation in space less real. Less meaningful. It removed the chance for growth. No wonder everyone had been so damn confused and angry before.

You did a fine job with those science nerds over the course of this past year, John. Very fine job. Nothing but praise from the lot of them. Well done.” His thick English accent had a soothing effect every time he spoke. John remembered him fondly as a young man. His father and the Admiral had gone to the academy together and served side by side for many years before John’s father met an untimely death. Sitting here with him now and listening to him speak brought him back to those simpler times. “I was just doing my duty, Sir.” “Oh come now. You know and I know that there isn’t a bloody captain in this entire fleet that wanted that assignment. There isn’t a bit of action when you have the lot of them aboard. And on a bloody science mission besides. No, no, you are a real hero for saving all of us from having to do such a duty. And for a year! Bloody hell.” He opened up a drawer and pulled out two thick, stubby glasses, and then extracted a bottle of rum. Of course he brought out the rum. “I suppose you heard that we’ve been hard at work getting our first Deep Space Class starship ready to launch this year?” he asked as he filled both glasses half full with the amber liquid. He Offered one glass to John who took it with reluctance. He had never been one who liked liquor. “Heard she’s a beauty. The engine is something of a marvel as well?” “Damn straight,” he said as he downed his first glass in one pull. He filled his glass up half full for round two. “Currently our fastest ship will get you to the Wild Space region in twenty years. This buggers going to do it in six months and I’d like you to take her out on her maiden voyage.” John sat back in shock. The thought of taking out the prototype of the future… it was a great honor and one that hundreds of captains in star fleet would give anything for. He certainly wasn’t worthy of such an honor. He didn’t have nearly the amount of years as everyone else in the fleet. “I don’t think it’d be right to accept, would it? I mean… there are some captains who’ve…” “Bumshnickles!” he shouted. “Your father was the captain of the first Earth Starship Independence. It’s only right that the second to bear her name should have an Avery in the chair.

Wilton Spencer," she said softly, "why do you have to be so damned smart?" Spence smiled. "Darned smart," he said; then he wiped her tears away and kissed her on the tip of her nose.

Vincent, whom Kusanagi-Jones had managed to avoid for the duration of the voyage by first taking to cryo-damn the nightmares-and then restricting himself to the cramped comforts of his quarters…whom he could avoid no longer.

Why is it that I want women to beat me up and men to gently embrace me?

DAMN THE PURITY TESTS. ORDER PEMMICAN IMMEDIATELY. WE HAVE NO ALTERNATIVE.*

So people say, what is there to be positive about? What is there to hope for? And my answer is always the same—Voyager. The two spacecraft we threw out into space with the hope of a planet behind them. One of them carrying a letter that said, “We are attempting to survive our time so we may live into yours”. The most hopeful letter any human being ever wrote. Our thoughts, our languages, our music all travelling now through interstellar space. The odds of either Voyager being intercepted within our lifetimes are infinitesimal, but that’s not the point. The point is that one day, so many days into the future we can’t even comprehend the number, some bored lifeform might scoop up a dead, battered piece of junk and find a planet’s hope inside. And if, against all odds, they can understand it, they might just train their sights on our backwater of space and find the place we once occupied and think, Damn. We missed a trick there. So here we are, going about our lives, and all the while the Voyagers are out there, hurtling onward. Every day you wake up they’re just a little bit closer to something amazing. And that’s what makes me smile every time I think of it. Voyager, and the journey never-ending.

Naturally I'll follow the orders you and the Space Force give me." She thought Willoughby's face took on a faintly sardonic cast. The woman knew that Jane would do what she damned well pleased.

I thought about the opposite sex endlessly, and as I grew up, it became an almost all-consuming desire: resting my head against the soft fullness of a breast (pendulous or pert, it didn't matter), was an exquisite lullaby; being enfolded by a woman, entering a woman, was a thrilling voyage of discovery, as well as a homecoming to the warmest, safest place I'd ever been.

I thought about the opposite sex endlessly, and as I grew up, it became an almost all-consuming desire: resting my head against the soft fullness of a breast (pendulous or pert, it didn't matter), was an exquisite lullaby; being enfolded by a woman, entering a woman, was a thrilling voyage of discovery, as well as a homecoming to the warmest, safest place I'd ever been. In some ill-defined way, it was like possessing and transcending the world all at once, and it was enough to make you cry for the sheer joy of being human.

The first time I saw the picture if did not seem to me to have anything at all of the very great urgency and emotional charge of “Guernica”; Picasso’s deliberate survey of the two extreme states of the human condition appeared to me to have some of the weaknesses usually to be seen in Last Judgments; but whereas in most Last Judgments the blessed seem condemned to an eternity of boredom while the damned and their attendant fiends are filled with passionate life, here it was Peace that was convincing, while War, apart from those hands and the trampled book, struck me as literary and remote. Even the round-faced figure of War himself looked quite good company. I was tempted to say that Picasso, in spite of his longing for vast surfaces, could not deal with them when they were provided—that with the exception of “Guernica” his genius flowered best when it was confined. But that was a first sight, after a long day’s drive in beating rain; and it is notorious that a traveler, harassed by his voyage, by hunger, by other sightseers, tends to be captious and unreceptive—in an Italian journey Picasso himself saw Giotto unmoved—and presently, rested and fed, with the chapel to myself, I found the whole painting grow enormously in power, above all the arched picture at the end.

The chains around my heart shatter. And then I'm his.

Ravi deserves to be happy, and if he has to cut me away like some rotting limb to do that, so be it. I'm allowed to cry about it though.

He noticed things about myself that I'd never considered wonderful.

You're so pale that colours beam through your cheeks. I can watch my words light up your face.