Wr Quotes

If it came to a choice of being loved without respect or respected and not loved, I wanted to be respected. And JinYeong promised both.

Eurion wrinkled his nose and went behind the curtain again. “I think you’re beautiful, Lady,” he called back to her. “So you should think I’m handsome.

You cannot understand how much patience I need in order not to lose my patience, so that I can withstand all this misfortune all by myself. Nikos Kazantzakis, from a letter to Galatea Kazantzaki wr. c. June 1922

what was the point in being supposedly more intelligent or stronger than humans when there was no kindness or compassion with it? What was better about being more intelligent if you were also more cruel? What was the point in being more logical and unemotional if that just made you a psychopath?

If it only depends on your point of view, what's actually the truth?

I wrote a poem about happy times with a lady, About how nice it feels to love and laugh like crazy, But there is after all a pen in my hand and not her hair. All happy stanzas have a sad air.

She was interesting in a cockatrice kind of way: alien and very, very deadly.

It is never of the least use to be snide to boys suffering from calf-love: they seem to take it as a challenge. The only thing to do is be polite and elder-sisterly, and hope that they recover quickly.

You must think I’m an idiot,” I said. “That thing isn’t JinYeong, and if you think I’m gunna hold back from blasting it so far Behind that it wakes up back-to-front just because it has JinYeong’s annoying little face, I’ve got some news for you.

Awful places, towns. Nasty little secrets lying around and popping up when you least expect ’em. People expecting you to eat potatoes.

Everyone thinks they have the best dog and none of them are wrong.

WR8TH: i hear ur looking for me

And when we wr i t e he r life hi s tory, we f ind tha t we know nothing about the f i r s t s even ye a r s of he r life, but the de eds of he r l a t e r chi ldhood a r e to be s e en in the old rocks .(

For the next two weeks, WR8TH’s virus kept to its routine—waking up at nine a.m. and systematically nibbling away at ACG’s database. It was a model employee that way. Didn’t take a lunch break and never called in sick.

Worry is interest paid on trouble before it falls due.

Our real self is not the captive of Space and Time

Someone in love with a monster is either a single step away from being a monster themselves, or in need of a monster to protect them.

You can't agree to disagree with the law!

It's not as reassuring holding onto someone when you're the one leading into danger

I’d throw Kirby Tate in there too.” “It gets weirder,” Jenn said. “I saw that same guy shoot one of the tactical guys in the back.” “Friendly fire?” Hendricks asked. “Nothing friendly about it.” Hendricks chewed that over. “So Lombard gets wind that we’ve been in contact with WR8TH and calls in his old hitter to tie up loose ends. He’s been on us from day one. Follows us to

Lord Pecus looked speculative. “Would you marry me as I am?” “Oh yes!” I said encouragingly. “Do go on.” “Will you marry me, Isabella?” I shook my head. “No, my lord.” He looked quizzical, though not discouraged, so I explained. “You’re asking the wrong question again.” He took a meditative sip of port. “Do you know how to break the curse?” “I believe so. There, you see how much easier things are when you ask the right questions!” “I suppose it would be too much to ask of you to tell me how to do so?” “That’s another of the things I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you,” I said regretfully. “I’m terribly sorry, Alexander; but I’m afraid you’re going to have to work it out on your own.

Of course he burst through the door. It cracked against the massive slabs that formed the stone walls, sending splinters flying, and I didn’t have to try very hard for the startled jump as Lord Pecus strode into the room. I gave a maidenly shriek, and in a moment of truly inspired acting, snatched my dressing gown from the bed to my chest and assumed pose #35, Maidenly Horror. Hands clasped below the breasts and clutching my dressing gown as if to protect girlish modesty, eyes wide- maybe finishing school had been useful for something after all. I thought I might have gone too far, but Lord Pecus, who at my shriek had stopped two strides into the room with a look of horror on his mask, hastily turned his face to the wall. He tried to utter a disjointed apology but I threw one of the pot-pourri bowls at him, and it smashed satisfyingly on the wall, cutting off the attempt.

You speak like a Chalcedean,” Wintrow observed. “There, I am told, to be a woman I’d little better than to be a slave. I think it is born of their long acceptance of slavery there. If you can believe that another human can be your possession, it is but a step to saying your wife and daughter are also possessions, and relegate them to lives convenient to one’s own. But in Jamaillia and in Bingtown, we used to take pride in what our women could do. I have studied the histories. Consider Satrap Malowda, who reigned consortless for a score of years, and was responsible for the setting down of the Rights of Self and Property, the foundation of all our laws. For that matter, consider our religion. Sa, who we men worship as father of all, is still Sa when women call on her as mother of all. Only in Union is there Continuity. The very first precept of Sa says it all. It is only in the last few generations thaf wr have begun to separate the halves of our whole, and divide the—

I sighed. “Very well, if that is too difficult, show me all communications the day the Pecus Curse took effect.” The Book paused, its writing fading in and out uncertainly. At length, a sentence formed. I don’t think that’s allowed. “What do you mean, it’s not allowed!” You’re concerned in breaking the curse, the Book scrawled. It would be considered cheating. This is outside my parameters. “I am most certainly not concerned in breaking the curse!” I told the book firmly. “It has nothing in the world to do with me. Lord Pecus can look after himself.” Lord Pecus seems to have chosen you to break it, smugly said the Book. That means you’re not allowed any help. You wouldn’t want to cheat, would you? “Of course I would!” I said. “What a ridiculous question! I quite often cheat, thank you very much; sometimes it’s the only way to get things done. For example: how may I break a curse if I’m not given any information?” It’s meant to be hard, inked the Book, sulky again. That’s the way it is. All the True Love curses are like that. “I utterly refuse to be involved in anything so trite as a True Love Curse! And if you dare to tell me that ‘Lord Pecus seems to have involved me’, I shall begin ripping your pages out!

I was sitting at the dressing table, brushing out my hair, when a loud, abrupt tattoo was pounded on my door. I smiled at myself in the mirror, and rose from the low stool. My bowl of pot-pourri was to hand: I was ready. “Who is it?” I called out. “Dinner is ready,” said Lord Pecus’ voice. It sounded as though he were speaking through clenched teeth. “You have five minutes.” “I’m not coming down,” I retorted. “Go away!” “Lady Farrah, if you’re not out of your room in the next few minutes, I’ll fetch you out.” I winced, but it had to be said. “You wouldn’t dare!” The puerility of it was embarrassing. Fortunately, Lord Pecus was too annoyed to notice. “Two minutes, Lady Farrah!” “I absolutely refuse to come out!

...Obduracy can be overcome by determination. More insidious, and far harder to destroy, was women's internalizing of the notion that they were somehow inferior to men, a complementary species designed (in W.R. Greg's words) to 'complet[e], sweeten, and embellish the existence of others'. [Women] still chose to become nurses rather than doctors, secretaries rather than bosses: to be ill-paid facilitators for people no more talented nor, in many cases, better educated than themselves, but who simply happened to be men. The notion that they might be their bosses' equals penetrated only very slowly; the possibility that they might even be their superiors, though accepted in theory, has perhaps still not wholly sunk in.

I distinctly saw a tremor of laughter shake him, but he said: “Then I feel no scruple in adding that if you refuse my dinner invitation again, you’ll be carried down, nightdress or no.” I gave a tiny sigh. “May I ask why?” “It’s . . . necessary,” he said, after a brief pause. “I’m sorry to insist, but I do insist.” “Very well,” I said consideringly. “I have a stipulation, however.” “Which is?” “You dine with me unmasked.” There was a short silence, then Lord Pecus took in a slow breath. “Do you know what you’re asking?” I levelled a steady gaze at him. “I believe so. I may add that I think it only fair in the light of what you are asking, my lord.” He gave the low, rumbling chuckle that I liked. “I think we will get along very well, Lady Isabella.

He grinned at Lord Pecus and remarked: “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you she’s only a poor female. That’s where the conversation usually goes from there. I’m sorry to say I know it from experience.” “I was just getting to that bit,” I told them, looking up demurely through my eyelashes. “Of course, I feel bound to point out that my bashful nature wouldn’t allow me to do anything so bold as swindle you. You being so big and frightening, you know.” Lord Pecus looked startled. “Pardon?” Melchior grinned a little wider. “She can keep it up for days until you’re convinced that she’s misguided but sweet and that you’ve been a beast to her, and then she pinches your best invisibility spell and makes off with your fiancée.” “She wasn’t your fiancée then,” I pointed out primly. “Besides, if anyone was ‘made off’ with, Annabel made off with me. I was merely an innocent bystander who got caught up in the general confusion.” “I suppose my invisibility spell got caught up in the confusion as well?” “How did you guess?” I marvelled. “Your grasp of the matter is really commendable, Melchior!

Psihanalistul W.R. Bion a fost cel care a folosit termenul " continere " pentru a descrie capacitatea unei mame de a se oscupa de durerea bebelusului. Nu uitati pruncia nu e o perioada de extaz; e una de teroare. Ca bebelusi suntem prinsi in capcana intr-o lume ciudata, straina, nu putem sa vedem bine si suntem intr-o stare permanenta de surprindere fata de propriul trup, alarmati de foame si gaze si excretii, coplesiti de sentimentele noastre. Suntem, literalmente, atacati. Avem nevoie de mama ca sa ne aline si sa intelleaga ceea ce traim. In vreme ce ea face asta, invatam incetul cu incetul sa ne descurcam singuri cu starile noastre fizice si emotionale. Insa capacitatea noastra de a ne contine depinde in mod direct de capacitatea mamei de a ne contine - daca n-a avut parte de continere de la propria mama, cum ne-ar putea invata ceea ce ea insasi nu stie? Cineva care n-a invatat niciodata sa se contina e bantuit tot restul vietii de sentimente din zona nelinistii ; sentimente pe care Bion le-a numit pe drept cuvant " groaza fara nume " . Si o astfel de persoana cauta la nesfarsit aceasta continere, de care nu se poate lipsi in surse exterioare - are nevoie de o bautura sau de o tigara cu marijuana ca sa " indulceasca" aceasta neliniste nesfarsita - ca urmare, dependenta mea de marijuana.

she didn’t like to think of what an amused Athelas was capable of when left to freely think and plan alone.

Your success lies within you —you are the author of your destiny, so don't let anyone write it for you.

It was far harder to get caught doing something wrong if he was, in fact, not doing anything wrong.

I’m not sure that killing should be the default answer to all of our problems.

It was stupid to try and make anyone think that Athelas wouldn’t stab everyone in the house in the back if it suited his ends, but it looked as though Camellia wanted to try.

Experience is a good teacher, but her fees are very high.

before I could even jump down from the benchtop, the bunyip curled in with one of those ridiculously long arms and snatched up Kevin, or Kyle.

JinYeong hissed with laughter and snaked out a hand to steal a round of pineapple. I let him: if you haven't seen a vampire gleefully chowing down on a round of pineapple with both canines like an oversized fruit bat, don't judge me.

I wondered if this was what it would have been like to have an older brother; reasonable and kind of murderous.

Don’t get it wrong,” she warned him, turning back briefly. “I’m not part of your family. You’re part of mine.

Punctually at Christmas the soft plush Of sentiment snows down, embosoms all The sharp and pointed shapes of venom, shawls The hills and hides the shocking holes of this Uneven world of want and wealth, cushions With cosy wish like cotton-wool the cool Arm's-length interstices of caste and class, And into obese folds subtracts from sight All truculent acts, bleeding the world white.

Don’t mess with me and my fav 100% Savage Best Friend Anna! We’re so emotional 100% Savage Sisters for life! Wr truly don’t give a fuck about players who are playing around with our feelings. Players are north worth it&we stay away from players too! Of course, We forgive them and accept people’s apologies many times who hurted our feelings. But, it does take about a week for me&her to heal from them too to stay calm for sure. We give people unlimited chances to forgive them too! Be careful with us too for how everyone treats us too! My fav 100% Savage Best Friend Anna protects me and I always do protect her as sisters&as best friends! I’m so grateful and so thankful to have her in my life as my fav 100% Savage Best Friend&my fav 100% Savage Sister for life too! Love her so much in my life!

Fear is a reaction, Courage is a choice

It sounds bad to say, but I think I could have forgiven the murders

the kitchen was all black and white and red tiles; nice and gothic, except that the black and white was tile and the red was blood—lots of it. I mean, I suppose that’s gothic, too. It wasn’t supposed to be on the walls, though.

You’re just an overdressed galah who can’t stop spreading flowers everywhere he goes. One day you’re gunna run into a bloke with a mower and you won’t know what hit you.

Please tell me you’ve at least got him locked up in whatever the fae version of irons is?” “The fae version of irons is irons.

I’m left-handed, so I hate to break it to you, but you chopped off the wrong arm.

There are the things that should go without saying. Throw away the milk after it’s chunky and smelly; run when something with teeth bigger than your forearms looks at you the wrong way. Maybe don’t keep a serial killer locked up in your parents’ bedroom.

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Your youngster looks like he knows his way around a deck. When you think he’s ready to try a term under a different captain, he’d be welcome aboard Tarman. Things are a bit more rustic and he’s be sleeping in the deckhouse with the crew, but I’d be glad to foster him for a trip or two.” Brashen and Althea exchanged a look, but it was not his mother who said, “Not quite old enough yet. But I’ll take you up on that offer when he is. I know he’d like to see his aunt and uncle soon. Not to mention his cousin Ephron.” Brashen smiled as he attempted to change the subject. “When do you think Malta and Reyn might be bringing the baby downriver for a visit?” “You’d take Boy-o off my decks?” Paragon was appalled. “Only for a short time, ship. I know he’s yours as much as ours,” Brashen replied placatingly. “But a slightly wider circulation of experience wouldn’t hurt him.” “Hmph.” The figurehead crossed his arms on his carved chest. His mouth went to a flat line. “Perhaps when Ephron is old enough to take his place here for a time. An exchange of hostages, as it were.” Brashen rolled his eyes at them. “He’s in a mood today,” he said in a low voice. “I am not in a mood! Merely pointing out that you are a liveship family, and that you should think well before letting one of your own go off on another liveship, with no guarantees that he will be returned. Ideally, the exchange should be a member of Tarman's family.” He turned his gaze to Leftrin and Alise. “Do you expect to breed soon?” Leftrin choked on his tea. “Not that I'm aware,” Alise replied demurely. “A pity. It might be productive for you just now.”Paragon was politely enthused. “Can we please just not?” Althea asked him, almost sharply. “It's bad enough to have you offering Brashen and me your helpful insights into productive breeding without you extending your wisdom to our guests.” Alise could not tell if Brashen were embarrassed or red from suppressing laughter. “It was Tarman’s suggestion that they might find such information helpful, as so far they have enjoyed breeding, but fruitlessly. That’s all.” Paragon was unflustered. Brashen cleared his throat suddenly. “Well, speaking of hostages—” “Were we?” his ship interjected curiosity. “We were. Speaking of hostages, how did all that work out? There were rumors in Bingtown, but we left to go south and pick up your stock, and then returned right up the river. So wr haven’t heard much of that.

Ada, I hope your drive was okay and everything went smoothly. Excited to meet you and get started tomorrow. Best, WR

The word the Anglo-Saxon poets of Dark Age England used for fate highlights this ironic, circling, swerving logic; they called it wyrd—a word related to a lot of other w-r words still existing in our language that connote twisting and turning (worm, wrap, writhe, wreath, wring, and so on—even word, which, as writers know, is made of bendy-twisty marks on paper or stone). Wyrd, or weird, is the bending force in our lives that, among other things, causes dark prophecies to be fulfilled not only despite but actually because of our best efforts at preventing them. It also warps our mind and induces a kind of compulsion around more appealing-sounding prophecies, as it did to Shakespeare’s Macbeth after hearing the Weird Sisters’ prophecy that he would become king. When we realize that the Minkowski block universe, in its resolute self-consistency, imposes a wyrd-like law upon us (a “law in the cosmos,” you might call it), then all those antique myths about prophecy and the ironic insistency of fate start to appear less like the superstitions of benighted folk in the Back When and start to seem remarkably, well, prescient. And not only prescient, but based on real-life experience with prescience. Divination was an important part of Greek culture, for instance; it was even the basis of their medicine. Sick patients went to temples and caves to have healing dreams in the presence of priests who could interpret their dreams’ signs. They were not strangers to this stuff, as we now are. As intrinsically precognitive beings who think of ourselves as freely willed, the logic of wyrd is our ruler. We can’t go anywhere that would prevent ourselves from existing, prevent ourselves from getting to the experiences and realizations ahead of us that will turn out to have retroinfluenced our lives now, and this imposes a kind of blindness on us. That blindness may keep us from going insane, reducing the level of prophecy to a manageable level. It is why our dreamlife only shows us the future as through a glass, darkly. It is also why the world seems so tricksterish to those who are really paying attention. That we are interfered with by an intelligence that is somehow within us but also Other is the human intuition that Freud theorized in such a radical new way. His focus was on how this Other inside could make us ill; the flip side is that it really does serve as our guide, especially when we let ourselves be led by our unreason. Research shows that “psi” is an unconscious, un-willed function or group of functions.2 The laboratory experiments by Daryl Bem, Dean Radin, and many others strongly support something like presentiment (future-feeling) operating outside of conscious awareness, and it could be a pervasive feature or even a basic underlying principle of our psychology.

You just have to let love lead you

your magic tuch

your magic touch

contimpt iv coort, the coorts ar-re in contimpt iv th' gov'nor, an' if annybody but Tiddy Rosenfclt has anny other feelin' f'r ayether iv thim I haven't heerd him speak." "They ought to fire out the raypublican," said Mr. Hennessy. "Sure 'tis comin' to a nice state iv affairs whin th' likes iv him can defy the coorts." "Thrue f'r ye," said Mr. Dooley. "But I don't like th' looks iv it fr'm our side iv th' house. Whiniver a dimmycrat has to go to coort to win an iliction I get suspicious. They'se something wr-rong in Kentucky, Hinnissy. We were too slow. Th' inimy got th' first cheat." YOUNG

Back in Beijing, it was 9:56 A.M.—four minutes before the race’s start—and Phelps stood behind his starting block, bouncing slightly on his toes. When the announcer said his name, Phelps stepped onto the block, as he always did before a race, and then stepped down, as he always did. He swung his arms three times, as he had before every race since he was twelve years old. He stepped up on the blocks again, got into his stance, and, when the gun sounded, leapt. Phelps knew that something was wrong as soon as he hit the water. There was moisture inside his goggles. He couldn’t tell if they were leaking from the top or bottom, but as he broke the water’s surface and began swimming, he hoped the leak wouldn’t become too bad.4.18 By the second turn, however, everything was getting blurry. As he approached the third turn and final lap, the cups of his goggles were completely filled. Phelps couldn’t see anything. Not the line along the pool’s bottom, not the black T marking the approaching wall. He couldn’t see how many strokes were left. For most swimmers, losing your sight in the middle of an Olympic final would be cause for panic. Phelps was calm. Everything else that day had gone according to plan. The leaking goggles were a minor deviation, but one for which he was prepared. Bowman had once made Phelps swim in a Michigan pool in the dark, believing that he needed to be ready for any surprise. Some of the videotapes in Phelps’s mind had featured problems like this. He had mentally rehearsed how he would respond to a goggle failure. As he started his last lap, Phelps estimated how many strokes the final push would require—nineteen or twenty, maybe twenty-one—and started counting. He felt totally relaxed as he swam at full strength. Midway through the lap he began to increase his effort, a final eruption that had become one of his main techniques in overwhelming opponents. At eighteen strokes, he started anticipating the wall. He could hear the crowd roaring, but since he was blind, he had no idea if they were cheering for him or someone else. Nineteen strokes, then twenty. It felt like he needed one more. That’s what the videotape in his head said. He made a twenty-first, huge stroke, glided with his arm outstretched, and touched the wall. He had timed it perfectly. When he ripped off his goggles and looked up at the scoreboard, it said “WR”—world record—next to his name. He’d won another gold. After the race, a reporter asked what it had felt like to swim blind. “It felt like I imagined it would,” Phelps said. It was one additional victory in a lifetime full of small wins.4.19

How you react to reality is more important than the reality to which you react.

go, we only got three horses. The other three

Sioux

continued,

There was another group of clusters that look much more familiar to us, because even though we don’t pronounce them anymore, they live on in our spelling. The ‘wr’ of wrist, wrong, and wrath. The ‘kn’ of knot, knit, and knee. The ‘gn’ of gnaw and gnat, the ‘mb’ of comb and lamb, the ‘wh’ of what, where, and why. These were fully pronounced, with both sounds in the cluster, sometimes for hundreds of years after their spellings were established in print. Sometimes, in some dialects, even until today.

If you’re not capable of changing by yourselves, you’re not capable at all. Anything else will just be a lie.

I was beginning to wonder if you were a curious sort of person—I always get along better with curious people.

it was hard to feel old with that delightful sense of mischief running in my veins.

Actually, the rule with explosives is Safety First,” Annabel told him. “Because Nice Young Ladies need all of their limbs to pour tea.

Paying attention to our relationship with God matters because we ourselves are ultimately relational. It is not that wr first become selves and then have relationships. Rather, we are constituted by our relationships; they shape and form us. So also paying attention to our relationship with God will shape us.

perspicacious

I no longer ignore hidden youths in kitchens,” Athelas said. “I find it unwise. Why were you hiding?

The Steward will stab you in the back, the side, and the heart, one after the other,” Peregrine said grimly. “As soon as he has what he needs out of you, and as soon as it suits him to get rid of you, at the best possible time for himself.” “He’ll probably tell me before he does it, too,” YeoWoo said, and found herself laughing with the first genuine amusement of the day. “While being very sure that I don’t believe a word he says.

It’s the one where the town is all on the same street and there are five bakeries

Ob es gut ist, dass sie den Geist der Revolution verstanden haben und sich nun so kleiden wie wir, oder ob es ein Zeichen von Schwäche ist, frage ich mich manchmal, denn was können wr mit Schafen anfangen, die der Herde hinterherlaufen, wie können wir einen neuen Staat und ein neues System aufbauen, mit Leuten, die jederzeit zu einem anderen Lager wechseln können? (S.23, Behsad)

There’s nothing subtle about a group of halmoni,” YeoWoo said, climbing the stairs ahead of him. “Even if they hadn’t taken the aggressive approach, they would have “omo, omo!”d us into the place they wanted us to be.

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There was never any decorum in this house.

Don't get fond of psychos. It's a bad idea.

Exodus 3:13–15 God’s Name God’s statement “I AM WHO I AM” (Ex 3:14) is essentially in answer to the question, “What is your name?” God’s initial answer seems evasive. He is hinting at the real answer, though, since the Hebrew words for “I am” sound a bit like “Yahweh,” the name finally revealed in Ex 3:15 (“the LORD”). Two aspects of how divine names were utilized in ancient Egypt may relate to this revelation of God’s name. First, ancient Egyptians believed in a close relationship between the name of a deity and the deity itself—i.e., the name of a god could reveal part of the essential nature of that god. In Egyptian texts that refer to different but important names for the same deity, the names are often associated with particular actions or characteristics, and the words used tend to sound similar to the names with which they are associated. One can say there is wordplay between the action or characteristic and the name. For example, one text says, “You are complete [km] and great [wr] in your name of Bitter Lake [Km wr] . . . See you are great and round [šn] in (your name of) Ocean [Šn wr].” One can discern a similar wordplay at work in Ex 3:14. The action God refers to is that of being or existing. The wordplay consists in that the statement “I AM” comes from the Hebrew consonants h-y-h, while the name in Ex 3:15 contains the consonants y-h-w-h. Both words come from the same verbal root, and the linguistic connection would be immediately clear to an ancient listener or reader. It is not that God’s name is actually “I am” but that “Yahweh” reveals something about the essence of who God is—an essence that relates to the concept of being and to the idea of one who brings others into being. A second aspect of divine names in Egypt may be relevant. Deities sometimes had secret names, and special power was granted to those who knew them. Certain Egyptian magical texts (e.g., the Harris Magical Papyrus) give instructions on how to use the words of a god and thereby wield a degree of that god’s power.

Paddy said, “Don’t worry while you’re gone.  Cecil and I will come around and knock Marguerite up for you.”      Marguerite and I both knew that our countries were separated by a common language but this one got my attention.  We’d already made several mistakes that to the Brits were socially odd until we found out what was wrong.  We’d had several people tell us to “Call” them, but we didn’t have a phone.  We learned that “Call” meant to come by their house, “Ring” me meant to call them on the phone.  The word “Fanny” did not mean the part of your body that you sit on, but the part of a woman’s anatomy that is not normally discussed.  The word “Bloody” was considered a curse word and wasn’t necessarily meant to be descriptive.  So I couldn’t wait for “Come round and KNOCK YOU UP.”       I said, “Excuse me, did you say ‘knock Marguerite up.’”      “Yes, we’ll come round and knock her up for you.”      “Guys, I really appreciate the gesture but I think that’s something I’d better do myself.”      “How can you do that if you’re gone?”      “Well, I can’t really.”      “That’s why we’ll come round and do it for you.”      “I think ‘Knock you up’ means something different here.”      “It just means that Cecil and I will come around, knock on the door and check on Marguerite and Katie while you’re gone.  What does “Knock you up” mean in the states?”      “It means to get a woman pregnant.”      I got big grins from both of them and then Cecil said, “Well, we can see why that might be something you’d want to do yourself.  Sorry for the confusion.

I’d never been winched out of the sea by a hovering helicopter before and it was a little bit of an experience.  I knew I’d be pretty heavy but the crewman made it look very easy when he spun me around and pulled me in the cabin.      Capt Birbeck and he were both talking to me at once, wanting to know if I was alright.  He and the crewman were busy examining the mark on my neck.      “Spicer, are you sure you’re all right?”      “Yeah, I got a little scrape on my throat from the helmet chin strap and a small lump on the bridge of my nose, but I’m ok; why, is there something wrong?”      “You might say that.  The pilot decided he didn’t like the way the swell was running and decided to move to a different location to put us out.  The crewman was tapping you on the shoulder to tell you to get back in because we were going someplace else.  We aren’t sure but think you may have gone out about 100 feet instead of 50 and we were pretty sure you’d be injured.  You may have accidentally broken a record.”      “NO SHIT?!!”      “They were really worried but I told them you can’t hurt one of those damn U.S. Marines!”      “Same for the Royal Marines, right!”      He broke into a big grin and gave me a light tap on the head.      He said, “Right, but I’m not jumping out of this helicopter at a hundred fucking feet just to prove it mate!!!

Down here it seemed to be a mixed bag of NVA, the local Viet Cong, and any little old lady with an AK-47 in her shopping bag who felt like emptying a 20 round Magazine into a passing helicopter.

I recognized the Captain and Commander.  I just guessed that the oldest looking officer with the most gold braid hanging off his uniform was the First Sea Lord and I was right. 

The concierge was about 5’7” tall, blond hair, slightly balding, steely blue eyes, steel rimmed glasses, mid-forties and totally devoid of any apparent sense of humor.  If this guy wasn’t a former SS officer I’d never see one.  I greeted him and told him what I wanted to do.  He looked at me very sternly and said, “Zo you vish to go to Zermatt, eh?”      It was as if he was saying, “Are you papers in order?”  It almost gave me a chill.  As an American you’re born into freedom.   You can’t imagine some government jerk or army officer questioning your right to go anywhere.  It was just a brief flash for what it must have been like during the war and I didn’t like it one damn bit.  It was a realization and I let it go.

We had no clue as to getting on the train and had our first experience with the station Zugmeister (Train Master).  This guy had enough gold braid on his hat to be a Field Marshal and there was no doubt that he was in charge.

I started on the bunny hill with the kids and on the second day got a little too over confident.  I also misinterpreted the symbols on the trail marks for the degree of difficulty and managed to find myself at the top of the mountain and the beginning of a double Black Diamond run.   I had no idea until I discovered the only way down was to ski, and that the double Black Diamond meant “For Experts Only.”      Marguerite had gotten off at a rest area, found a nice table outside, got a cup of hot tea and rented a telescope so she could watch me ski down the mountain.       She got a ski show all right; about 200 yards down the slope I lost complete control.  I saw the sky and ground so many times as I tumbled I lost count and when I did come to rest it was at the bottom of the run and I was minus a ski.  A nice Swiss couple had retrieved it for me and it wasn’t until they gave it back that I realized just how lethal a runaway downhill ski could be, I was damned lucky it didn’t go through somebody down the mountain.      I realized I was over matched and stuck with the bunny hill for the rest of the day.

Our only landing aid was a human T made up of Royal Marines lying on the flight deck holding torches.  The theory being that if, as the pilot, if you got the descent angle correct, then the visual aid would look like a lighted T on the flight deck.  The correct angle would be about a 3 degree glide slope and the aircraft should arrive just short of the T in a hover.  Once in the hover the pilot would detach the under slung load, or land vertically to discharge passengers.       This didn’t work real well on the first couple of tries because our human T didn’t have quite the confidence in the pilots that was required for this, and as we drew close, and were at the very critical stages of our approach, our human T landing aid would appear to move or disintegrate completely.      We shut down for a while and after a “quiet word” from either the Commando Sergeant Major or one of the Colour Sergeants, our human landing aids quit moving and things worked out well.

The first person I saw inside was a Sister or Nurse or whatever and she had on this enormous white starched hat and an immaculate uniform to match.      “May I help you sir?”      “My wife is about to have a baby!!”      She gave me that look that most women give to men in that situation, indicating I was an over excited male that didn’t know a damn thing.

I’d taken German in college and thought I understood so I picked up our bags and we proceeded to what I thought was Bahn Drei.  We were about to board the train that was parked there when we heard a very loud shout to HALT!!  It was the Zugmeister.  He was shouting in German, and I finally said, “English bitte.”      Disgustedly he said, “You are on zee wrong platform and are trying to get on zee wrong train.  I told you Bahn Drei and you are on Bahn Funf. (5) Bahn Funf is ober der!”      I looked in the direction he pointed and there was no train.  I said, “There’s no train over there and we are supposed to be leaving here in 5 minutes.”  I was thinking in British Rail terms.      “Zat is zee Bahn fer der train to Munich and zer vill be a train on time for zer departure!”      “Ok, Ok, we’ll go over and wait there.  How long will it be before the train comes in?” This guy was about to bust a blood vessel.      “Zee train vill be der and leaf on time.”  He pointed at Bahn funf platform again and stomped off.”      Marguerite said, “You suppose he was in the German Army in the War?”      “What would be your first clue?”      “I can’t believe we didn’t get on the right platform, I thought you said you took German in college.”      “I did, but I got a C.

Before I could knock on the open door of his office I heard, “Get your ass in here!!”      I by-passed the knock and went straight to his desk and stopped front and center.      “Christ, what the hell is going on out there this morning.  I come in here drop my cover and car keys on my desk, look at the morning availability report and see we got 13 aircraft up.  I go down to the ready room to get a cup of coffee, see on the schedules board we got an 8 plane launch going out, look at the weather, shoot the shit with the ODO for a couple minutes and by the time I get back to my office, I got 4 aircraft up out of 18 and the entire launch has been scrubbed, what the FUCK?!”      “The thunderstorm got us Sir.  Flight line had the aircraft all ready to go, canopies up waiting on pilots and everything got drenched before we could close up and run for cover.”      “Oh for Christ’s sake, didn’t anyone notice a huge thunderstorm heading our way?

There was no way out of this; the Col was upset for the moment.  I’d seen this before and even if I confessed that it was my fault that I’d created the thunderstorm this morning just to halt flight operations it wouldn’t have mattered so I decided to take a chance and break this up while hopefully maintaining a straight face.      “Well Sir it’s a highly technical problem that has to do with electricity and humidity.”      “WHAT technical problem with electricity and humidity?!”      “Well Sir, it’s the Geeblefarbs.”      “GEEBLEFARBS?!!  What the fuck are Geeblefarbs?”      “Well Sir, they are little microscopic things that ‘Geeble’ down the electrical wires transporting the Ohms that make the electrical stuff work.  When they get wet or it’s really humid outside the Ohms pick up moisture and  swell up, which causes the Geeblefarbs to get too fat and they can’t ‘Geeble’ down the wires and when that happens the things like the UHF radio, TACAN and other electrical equipment just won’t work.”      Now I’ve known other officers who weren’t very mechanically inclined and never curious enough to really know if this was a true technical explanation or not.  I also knew that with those types of people if you said something like this in an authoritative manner that they would simply say, “Oh” and go on to another subject, but I knew Col Psaros (Big George) better than that.      “Geeblefarbs and fat Ohms, you’ve got to be shitting me!”      “I am Sir.”      “You gonna fix this problem we are having, quickly, I hope.”      “Yes Sir, it’s in work now, weather aside, we will be ready to go in about 1 hour.

We also learned that Joe had been in the Navy for about 8 years, then got out and worked for the Border Patrol in the Yuma area for another 8 and then quit to go into real estate.  She said, “He’d just got tired of chasing down poor Mexicans trying to find a better life.” 

The more you sweat in peacetime, the less you bleed in war.” 

I had a little trouble doing an about face on a carpet while wearing tennis shoes, but managed not to fall on my face as I left his office.

It was hot, there was no shade, and we were once again waiting on “the word”.  Everyone was bitching about getting water or getting into the shade.  The staff sergeant in charge of this detail was afraid to let anyone wander away in case the plane arrived.  No one was having any luck in trying to get him to understand that if we die of thirst or a burst bladder, there would be no one to catch the damn airplane anyway. 

One of the first things you had to know was the difference between “In Coming” and “Out Going”.  The first loud noises or explosions we heard had everyone jumping and getting ready to run for the bunkers.  A loud voice in the darkness shouted for us to relax, it was “Out Going”.  The voice was referring to artillery fire being shot away from our location and hopefully onto a Viet Cong location.  It was normally referred to as an H&I fire (Harassing and Interdiction).  Another voice in the darkness asked, “What does in coming sound like?” The loud voice in the darkness answered, “There will be no doubt in your mind when you hear it.  If you don’t hear it, you will most likely be dead.

On New Year’s Eve everyone was looking forward to an evening movie.  For a change, I didn’t have duty with the Admiral.  I looked forward to sitting back and just watching.  The movie we selected was “The Days of Wine and Roses”.  It sounded like a good New Year’s Eve flick; wine and roses, how bad could that be? Unfortunately, the movie was about alcoholism and was one of the most depressing flicks I had ever seen.  Our New Year’s Eve turned into a depressing drag and the news about the situation between North and South Vietnam added to the misery.

I made a date with her for the following week.  Mid-week, I went for a ride in a T-28.  The engine failed, the pilot slid the plane into the sand of the Mojave out near El Centro, and I slid into a hospital bed for about ten days at North Island Naval Air Station.  While I was in the hospital, the CARDIV left for WestPac.  I called Marguerite and told her what happened and that I wanted to see her again.  I’m not sure she believed me, but agreed to another date.  Unfortunately it had to be a short date because I had to head for Norton Air Force base to catch a flight for Hawaii, to meet up with the CARDIV.

On Sunday afternoon, we all went out and played touch football until it was time for the evening meal.  One of the guys brought a football with him, something I couldn’t even imagine being done at boot camp.  Of course this guy was an All-American football player, so why wouldn’t he bring a football.

Then Staff Sergeant Alley said, “Are you stupid, candidate? You’ve got five shining examples of how a bunk is supposed to be made and yours looks like some shit ass kid at YMCA camp made it.  You’ve got 3 minutes to make it right.”      Candidate Myers just stood there.  He wasn’t used to being spoken to like this and I’m pretty sure he had no idea what to do.      Staff Sergeant Alley said, “Two minutes and forty-five seconds now, candidate.”      Myers was completely frustrated and couldn’t seem to do a thing.  Finally Staff Sergeant Alley grabbed Myers’ mattress and linen and threw it out into the middle of the squad bay.  He told Myers to start over.  He left the rest of us standing at the position of attention.

Saturday’s schedule was our first personnel inspection, followed by what was labeled on the training schedule as a “Conditioning Hike”.  Hoffman and I translated that into a “very long run through the woods with all your gear”.

Do one more.  You’re really close.  Just throw caution to the wind and let the weight of your body do the work.  Scare yourself a little bit.  The worst that will happen is you’ll lose your grip, fall on the back of your head, and break your neck.” He was smiling as he said this.