Why I Relay For Life Quotes

Indeed, is not the Sun, our Sol, a light source itself; a spiritual powerhouse; a relay station of God? I believe so. One can understand the reasons why many cultures through many millennia have worshiped the Sun.

I caught a fish that weighed three stone if it weighed a pound!” Nick bragged, looking to Kit for approval. “Indeed.” Kit nodded in assent, supportively. “But mine was the real coup—I took down a rabbit with feet as large as my own!” “Mmmm,” Will agreed, taking a drink of wine. “Neither compares with the quail I bested…it was the size of a golden eagle! Wasn’t it, Blackmoor?” Blackmoor smiled broadly, leaning back and looking from one brother to the next. “I’m not certain I want to be involved in this particular conversation,” he said with a laugh. “Oh?” Alex asked with a twinkle in her eye, knowing exactly why he wouldn’t participate. “Could that be because this generation of Staffords has been having this very conversation for years, since they were old enough to go hunting?” Blackmoor smiled at her and replied, “It could be…” “And perhaps because, for years, it is only after the Stafford boys have relayed their incredible feats of manhood that their father ruins their fun by telling the truth—that none of the three of them could catch a fish, a rabbit, or a bird if his very life depended on it?” the duke noted, drawing a laugh from everyone around the table. “Alas, it seems the wildlife of this particular estate have nothing to fear from their masters,” Vivi said. “It’s a good thing you’re all fairly intelligent,” Ella remarked. “And don’t forget attractive,” added Nick, good-humoredly. “Oh, of course!” Alex replied sarcastically. “How could we forget?” The

As a child I was confused by my father’s love of steak. I remember being eight and my dad ceremoniously announcing to the family, “We’re having steak tonight!” as if Abe Lincoln were coming over for dinner. My siblings and I would politely act excited as we watched TV. “That’s great, Dad!” I remember thinking, Big deal. Why can’t we just have McDonald’s? To me, my father just had this weird thing with steak. I thought, Dads obsess about steak the way kids obsess about candy. Well, my dad did. I’d watch him trudge out behind our house in all types of weather to the propane grill after me or one of my brothers barely averted death by lighting it for him. He would happily take his post out there, chain-smoking his Merit Ultra Light cigarettes and drinking his Johnnie Walker Black Label Scotch alone in the darkness of Northwest Indiana. He’d stare into the flame like it was an ancient oracle relaying a prophecy that solved the mysteries of life.

the shadows. “Why do you think they invented chess?” “He’s got you there,” said the captain, following Fletcher. Jake jogged slightly to catch up as Captain Chenoweth continued. “These guys are exactly who we need to get you to your destination. They’ve got contacts throughout the area, and we should be able to slip through without anyone even knowing we’re coming.” “But why should anyone care?” Captain Chenoweth pointed back the way they’d come, toward the coastal village. “Those people down there didn’t know us, but they were ready to kill you. Now, no matter what started this little conflict, don’t think for a second anyone here cares which side you’re on. In their eyes America is their enemy, and they’re likely to kill us all simply to vent their frustration. Either that, or they’ll capture us and hold us for ransom – maybe do what those wannabe terrorists did and chop our heads off, posting it on the internet for shits and giggles. We’re not sitting in your little ivory bubble anymore. Highly polished principles won’t wash well here.” The words felt like a slap in the face. “You think I’m that naive?” he eventually mustered after an awkward pause. Captain Chenoweth gave a short whistle, and the SEAL team dropped back from their defensive positions, jogging up the short hill and clambering into the rear of one of the virtually invisible trucks. “I think it’s time to go, sir.” And with that simple statement, Captain Chenoweth relayed volumes to Jake, who nodded silently and walked toward the large truck, its back tray covered by a canvas roof stretched over a high, metal frame. Jake saw the SEAL team seated alongside Fletcher and three of his men, two bench-seats running the length of the tray. He climbed awkwardly into the back of the truck as its engine roared to life. The tray reeked of livestock; the musky scent of animal feces mixed with grass or hay and wet fur. Jake gagged, but otherwise remained silent, still stinging from the captain’s indirect rebuke. Complaining of the stench would only serve to lower him further in their esteem. Captain Chenoweth climbed in alongside