Zig Zag Quotes

You need to make a decision to be happy and let it guide your future. Then make a left instead of a right, zig instead of zag. Sometimes that's the only way to find a new path.

I chop the broccoli into pieces with ZigZag Knife, sometimes I swallow some when Ma's not looking and she says, "Oh, no, where's that big bit gone?" but she's not really mad because raw things make us extra alive.

Zag when they think you'll zig.

The bluff on which Natchez sat was huge, and the road zigged and zagged and curled and twisted and dropped— like something Dr. Seuss might have imagined in a book titled The Cat in the Hat Drinks Blood.

when the bullets are flying and the bombs are dropping, the ability to zig and zag is far more valuable than the capacity to figure out the calibre of the bullets and what kinds of planes are flying overhead.

Upon patterned cushions that might have been honked, zig by zag, out of Ornette Coleman’s horn, the odalisque exposed her flesh to a society that had grown frightened again of flesh.

Bonner leans his forehead against hers. Zig when they think you’ll zag. Creation’s Rule Number Two. What’s Number One? Els asks, willing to be this bent soul’s straight man. Zag when they think you’ll zig.

(1) First, give yourself permission to be a contrarian, to flout convention, to follow the unsafe path, to zig when everyone else zags; then (2) take some action to get going. Allow yourself to try; then try.

A Congreve clock?’ Captain Petersen was puzzled. ‘It’s a clock that keeps time by a steel ball running on a zig-zag track down an inclined plane,’ Keith told him. ‘Only it doesn’t keep very good time. It takes thirty seconds for the ball to run down one way — then the plane tilts and it runs back again. It’s quite fascinating to watch.

He touched me. He… he whispered things in my ear, things I never would’ve expected to affect me the way they did. I feel like I lose control when I’m near him. I’m like a leaf fluttering in the wind—when he zigs, I zag. He talks and I jump. He walks and I turn into a blithering idiot. I admit it, I’m clumsy, but when I find myself near him…” He didn’t have the courage to finish the sentence. With a sudden lump in his throat, he added: “I don’t want to hope, and I certainly don’t want to delude myself. Damn it, the thought of deluding myself terrifies me!” “I think I know what your problem is.” “And what would that be?” He sat up, offering a sly smile. “You’re hopelessly in love with him.

Most people think in curves and zig-zags. For example, they start from a thought like: I wonder how I can become very rich, and then proceed along an uncertain course which includes thoughts like: I wonder what’s for supper, and: I wonder who I know who can lend me five dollars?

A billion lifetimes to choose, and never anything on TV...

Proceeding by loops and zig-zags, we now and then arrive just where we ought to be.

God was grumbling his thunder and playing the zig-zag lightning thru his fingers.

If you're not called crazy when you launch something new, it means you're not thinking BIG enough.

When everyone zigs, zag

But once there were children, you couldn’t zig where you had zagged. It was nothing but a parlor game, once you had children.

Diamo e prendiamo e penetriamo in dolcezze incredibilmente complicate andando a zig zag da qualsiasi parte.

Quentin found himself staring at the end of his Brakebills careers across the perilously slender gap of only two months of time. It was like he'd been wending his way though a vast, glittering city, zig-zagging through side streets and wandering through buildings and haunted de Chrico arcades and little hidden piazzas, the whole time thinking that he'd barely scratched the surface, that he was just seeing a tiny sliver of one little neighborhood. And then suddenly he turned a corner and it turned out that he'd been through the whole city, it was all behind him, and all that was left was one short street leading straight out of town.

Life is a River" Life is a river zig zag it goes on flowing myriad memories quench thirst in the swirling waves of life! Life has its own colour a mingling of blue, green, black and white sweeping away all happiness and sadness in the cascading bubbles of tears and delight Life shares its own wisdom to keep on flowing is its only zeal whether it be summer or winter life will keep on flowing but never still Life is a river it flows at its own pace sometimes it may have no direction and this is life's story and grace! - Poet Manjushree Mohanty Translated from Odiya to English by Poet Avijeet Das

He had dipped his right forefinger in his own blood and had written a single word on the blue tiles above the tub, written it in two huge, staggering letters. A zig-zagging bloody fingermark fell away from the second letter of this word – his finger had made that mark, she saw, as his hand fell into the tub, where it now floated. She thought Stanley must have made that mark – his final impression on the world – as he lost consciousness. It seemed to cry out at her: Another drop fell into the tub. Plink. That did it. Patty Uris at last found her voice. Staring into her husband’s dead and sparkling eyes, she began to scream.

People are different. We can’t paint everyone with the same brush. Some people will Zig and some people will Zag. That doesn’t mean one is right and the other is wrong. There really is no universal standard of “normal”. In many cases, the ideals of “normality” are not attainable. They are simply not realistic. Allow people to be different.

Even if your company continues to thrive, your ability to survive in it depends on your capacity and willingness to innovate. Job security these days depends on the same qualities that make good entrepreneurs: agility, imagination, persistence, execution. To put it another way, adapt from within or you may be forced to adapt from without. Become

You’re terrible at small talk, Ayanda Khumalo.” “This is true.” She thought on this a moment. “We are not small people.

Nothing is more natural to drunken men than ellipses. The ellipsis is the zig-zag of the phrase.

was playing with friends: Batman and Robin team up with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock against the Joker and Penguin plus henchmen.

Status quo is Sturm und Drang. Or

No, she had no belief--none. She was completely alone with herself. The world was empty for her, but she didn't know it.

Maybe that's what life was. You zigged and you zagged and zigged and zagged some more.

Nothing could have been prevented. But still you know that somehow something wasn't watching. Something let attention lapse, releasing everything that follows, as the weight falls from the air.

Тайнствените изживявания могат да се окажат незабравими, но същевременно - и това е парадоксалното - подробностите, които си спомняме от тях, често са незначителни, несвързани и дори глупави. Изменчивата ни памет запечатва като с нагорещено желязо в спомените ни определени усещания, но в същото време не позволява те да са най-подходящите за едно обективно описание на цялостното събитие.

As side-by-side we walked along this road, hemmed in by two loose stone-like walls, something running towards us in a zig-zag line passed us at a wild pace, with a sound like a frightened laugh or shudder.

The constitutional disease from which I suffer,” wrote the philosopher and psychologist William James, “is what the Germans call Zerrissenheit, or torn-to-pieces-hood. The days are broken in pure zig-zag and interruption.

I thought of kissing Astrid under the fire escape. I thought of Norm’s rusty microbus and of his father, Cicero, sitting on the busted-down sofa in his old trailer, rolling dope in Zig-Zag papers and telling me if I wanted to get my license first crack out of the basket, I’d better cut my fucking hair. I thought of playing teen dances at the Auburn RolloDrome, and how we never stopped when the inevitable fights broke out between the kids from Edward Little and Lisbon High, or those from Lewiston High and St. Dom’s; we just turned it up louder. I thought of how life had been before I realized I was a frog in a pot. I shouted: “One, two, you-know-what-to-do!” We kicked it in. Key of E. All that shit starts in E.

Kaylee, For over a hundred years, magicians have been pulling objects out of hats. Rabbits, flowers... It's become such a famous trick that rabbits are known to represent magic in general. I'm a magician. I've been pulling things from hats since I learned the trick at ten years old. It's all about sleight of hand. Misdirection. Distraction. What people don't really know is it isn't the magician that makes the trick magical. It's the object. What is a zig-zag box without the blades? What is a cage without a dove? The object is the spark--the real reason why the illusion is worth seeing, worth doing, worth discovering. Sometimes magicians lose their rabbits. They get lost in the act, or the magician makes a mistake and has to coax the rabbit back out. Because without the rabbit, the trick is useless. Without the rabbit, the hat becomes insignificant. Kaylee Elizabeth Sperling, you are the rabbit to my hat, and I love you. Please forgive me for losing the spark in your trick. I will do whatever I can to make it up to you, starting with this deck of cards. 52 reasons why I love you. And I could fill another deck. Perhaps two more or three. Whatever it takes to coax my rabbit back out. -Nate

I would assign every lie a color: yellow when they were innocent, pale blue when they sailed over you like the sky, red because I knew they drew blood. And then there was the black lie. That's the worst of all." She said, "A black lie was when I told you the truth.

Hari ini, ia tumbuh dan berkembang menjadi apa saja Jika putih, esok ia akan merah, atau mungkin jingga Jika lurus, siapa tahu nanti akan berbelok, bahkan zig-zag Namun adakalanya perasaan hanyalah perasaan Tumbuh, untuk sekedar tumbuh Putih, untuk sekedar putih Lurus, untuk sekedar lurus Hingga mati begitu saja. -Jodoh Tak Jadi

But he said that his general optimism about the shape of American history remained unchanged. “To be optimistic about the long-term trends of the United States doesn’t mean that everything is going to go in a smooth, direct, straight line,” he said. “It goes forward sometimes, sometimes it goes back, sometimes it goes sideways, sometimes it zigs and zags.

Your alarm’s about to go off in ten minutes,” Caden called from the doorway. He had a cup of coffee in hand and wore only jeans. I tried to keep my eyes front and center, but I lost. The tattoos were a nice little zig-zag pattern, pulling my gaze down, all the way down. Caden’s slow, smooth chuckle told me he knew what I’d just done. My cheeks only warmed a little. I shot him a look, falling back to the pillow. “I feel like this should be the first skip day of my school career.” “You’ve never skipped before?” I shook my head, rolling it side to side on the pillow. “Am I missing out? Should I embrace my inner deviant?” He smirked. “You can skip a class for any reason in the world. It’s your life.” I sat up, eyeing that coffee. “You were supposed to be the bad influence.” His eyebrow lifted. “I’m not selling it enough?” He lifted his cup. “You want some coffee?” “I’m wondering if today is the day I try coffee too.” “You’ve never had coffee?” “I’m beginning to think I’m lame.” I thought about it. “Really lame.” “You slept at some guy’s house last night. Think of it that way.” His smirk was back. “Not so lame now.” I could do one better. “I slept at a fraternity house.” “And you drank beer.” “It was the second night in a row that I drank beer.” “See? Not so lame after all.” “You’re right.” I sat up. “I’m halfway to total badass.

She was crawling around on the floor, laughing and smiling with her eyes rolled back in her head. She gurgled and hacked a clot of phlegm from her throat, then stuck her tongue out and flicked it around, mouthing words I couldn’t begin to understand. “Faye?” I called. “What the fuck are you doing?” She loosed a wet cough, then dashed out from the room and zig-zagged her way toward me. Her arms and legs flailed wildly in exaggerated lunges and her head rolled about like a bowl on a stick.

Нищо не беше в състояние да събуди тревога сред тази природа, преизпълнена с живот и светлина, мислеше мъжът, при все че необяснимо защо точно тази мисъл като че ли пораждаше безпокойство. Може би заради контраста между това, което виждаше и онова, което знаеше, че може да се случи; заради хилядите начини, чрез които случайността (или нещо по-лошо) беше способна да помрачи и най-щастливото усещане. Не че мъжът беше песимист, но вече бе на възраст и натрупалият опит го караше да посреща с подозрителност всяка ситуация, която създаваше привидност за рай.

(...) [H]e removed his shoe and discovered a flattened black mass of chewing gum embedded deep in the zig-zag tread of the sole. Upper lip arched in disgust, he was still picking, cutting and scraping away with a pocket knife as the train began to move. Beneath the patina of grime, the gum was still slightly pink, like flesh, and the smell of peppermint was faint but distinct. How appalling, the intimate contact with the contents of a stranger's mouth, the bottomless vulgarity of people who chewed gum and who let it fall from their lips where they stood.

To give a recipe for getting a rough idea, in case you want to, I recommend the following procedure. Select a flat ten-acre ploughed field, so sited that all the surface water of the surrounding country drains into it. Now cut a zig-zag slot about four feet deep and three feet wide diagonally across, dam off as much water as you can so as to leave about a hundred yards of squelchy mud; delve out a hole at one side of the slot, then endeavour to live there for a month on bully beef and damp biscuits, whilst a friend has instructions to fire at you with his Winchester every time you put your head above the surface.

And so begins the strangest campaign in military history : a competent general and a seasoned army of eighty thousand men chased like deer, in their own country, by an invader who used his vastly smaller forces more like a pack of hunting dogs than men; laying them on the scent rather than mapping routes, caring no more for their feelings, their fatigues, their lives, than a hunter who is rather fond of a good dog. Up and down the map of East Germany they ran, hunter and hunted, in an Alexandrian zig-zag of the best manner. The only strategical question in Charles’ science was “ Where are they ? ” Never, “ How many ? How entrenched ? ” At last Charles had made war into what schoolboys dreamed it ought to be.

And at the risk of sounding like Andy Rooney on Sixty Minutes, have you ever wondered why we say fiddle-faddle and not faddle- fiddle? Why is it ping-pong and pitter-patter rather than pong-ping and patter-pitter? Why dribs and drabs, rather than vice versa? Why can't a kitchen be span and spic? Whence riff-raff, mish-mash, flim-flam, chit-chat, tit for tat, knick-knack, zig-zag, sing-song, ding-dong, King Kong, criss-cross, shilly-shally, see-saw, hee-haw, flip-flop, hippity-hop, tick-tock, tic-tac-toe, eeny-meeny-miney-moe, bric-a-brac, clickety-clack, hickory-dickory-dock, kit and kaboodle, and bibbity-bobbity-boo? The answer is that the vowels for which the tongue is high and in the front always come before the vowels for which the tongue is low and in the back.

It is a queer weapon, a shotgun. Every effort to secure additional range is well paid for. A bird may be going away at tremendous speed, "burning the air" as a youngster would put it. Seemingly nothing but chain-lightning, which zig-zagged a bit, could stop him. A crack of the gun and that wild flier is dead in the air, a full forty yards away. Right then the conviction comes to us that man never made another weapon so deadly as the shotgun. However, go back another forty yards, set the bird up on the limb of a tree and you might shoot at him all day and not kill him. The shotgun is a deadly weapon but its range is strictly limited and we are ourselves pretty well convinced that nothing less than a two-inch cannon will regularly kill single game-birds at one-hundred yards, with any kind of shot that can be put in the gun.

All day long the red squirrels came and went, and afforded me much entertainment by their manoeuvres. One would approach at first warily through the shrub-oaks, running over the snow crust by fits and starts like a leaf blown by the wind, now a few paces this way, with wonderful speed and waste of energy, making inconceivable haste with his “trotters,” as if it were for a wager, and now as many paces that way, but never getting on more than half a rod at a time; and then suddenly pausing with a ludicrous expression and a gratuitous somerset, as if all the eyes in the universe were fixed on him,—for all the motions of a squirrel, even in the most solitary recesses of the forest, imply spectators as much as those of a dancing girl,—wasting more time in delay and circumspection than would have sufficed to walk the whole distance,—I never saw one walk,— and then suddenly, before you could say Jack Robinson, he would be in the top of a young pitch-pine, winding up his clock and chiding all imaginary spectators, soliloquizing and talking to all the universe at the same time,—for no reason that I could ever detect, or he himself was aware of, I suspect. At length he would reach the corn, and selecting a suitable ear, frisk about in the same uncertain trigonometrical way to the top-most stick of my wood-pile, before my window, where he looked me in the face, and there sit for hours, supplying himself with a new ear from time to time, nibbling at first voraciously and throwing the half-naked cobs about; till at length he grew more dainty still and played with his food, tasting only the inside of the kernel, and the ear, which was held balanced over the stick by one paw, slipped from his careless grasp and fell to the ground, when he would look over at it with a ludicrous expression of uncertainty, as if suspecting that it had life, with a mind not made up whether to get it again, or a new one, or be off; now thinking of corn, then listening to hear what was in the wind. So the little impudent fellow would waste many an ear in a forenoon; till at last, seizing some longer and plumper one, considerably bigger than himself, and skilfully balancing it, he would set out with it to the woods, like a tiger with a buffalo, by the same zig-zag course and frequent pauses, scratching along with it as if it were too heavy for him and falling all the while, making its fall a diagonal between a perpendicular and horizontal, being determined to put it through at any rate;—a singularly frivolous and whimsical fellow;—and so he would get off with it to where he lived, perhaps carry it to the top of a pine tree forty or fifty rods distant, and I would afterwards find the cobs strewn about the woods in various directions.

One of the biggest challenges implementing agile is the reward system. For example, individual salary scales and rewards can be decoupled from the function and substituted by group valuation rewards linked to the capacity of both the employee and/or the team. Or, it is possible to make a distinction between the fixed salary and flexible performance bonus, detached from the annual budget and not considered a personnel expense. The reward system is always the last to change, but it is crucial to include this subject in the initial conversations with the different stakeholders around agile projects.

And it was big enough that organized crime was split two separate ways. The west of the city was run by Ukrainians. The east was run by Albanians. The demarcation line between them was gerrymandered as tight as a congressional district. Nominally it followed Center Street, which ran north to south and divided the city in half, but it zigged and zagged and ducked in and out to include or exclude specific blocks and parts of specific neighborhoods, wherever it was felt historic precedents justified special circumstances. Negotiations had been tense. There had been minor turf wars. There had been some unpleasantness. But eventually an agreement had been reached. The arrangement seemed to work. Each side kept out of the other’s way. For a long time there had been no significant contact between them

Her chances of a decent marriage were about to be dashed—and all because of a ferret. Unfortunately Poppy Hathaway had pursued Dodger halfway through the Rutledge Hotel before she recalled an important fact: to a ferret, a straight line included six zigs and seven zags. “Dodger,” Poppy said desperately. “Come back. I’ll give you a biscuit, any of my hair ribbons, anything! Oh, I’m going to make a scarf out of you . . .” As soon as she caught her sister’s pet, Poppy swore she was going to alert the management of the Rutledge that Beatrix was harboring wild creatures in their family suite, which was definitely against hotel policy. Of course, that might cause the entire Hathaway clan to be forcibly removed from the premises. At the moment, Poppy didn’t care. Dodger had stolen a love letter that had been sent to her from Michael Bayning, and nothing in the world mattered except retrieving it. All the situation needed was for Dodger to hide the blasted thing in some public place where it would be discovered.  ... The ferret paused at a corner, checked to make certain he was still being chased, and in his happy excitement, he did a little war dance, a series of sideways hops that expressed pure delight. Even now, when Poppy wanted to murder him, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that he was adorable. “You’re still going to die,” she told him, approaching him in as unthreatening a manner as possible. “Give me the letter, Dodger.” The ferret streaked past a colonnaded lightwell that admitted sunshine from overhead and sent it down three floors to the mezzanine level. Grimly, Poppy wondered how far she was going to have to chase him. He could cover quite a lot of territory, and the Rutledge was massive, occupying five full blocks in the theater district. “This,” she muttered beneath her breath, “is what happens when you’re a Hathaway. Misadventures . . . wild animals . . . house fires . . . curses . . . scandals . . .

Make this path as procedural as possible. Zig-zagging around the space is likely to be less productive.

Thinking the same thing, she starts to run in a zig-zag. “That’s right,” I mutter, under my breath. “Don’t make it easy for him.

I look around for any sign of Du Pont. Terrified that any moment I’ll hear another shot, and Simone will drop. Thinking the same thing, she starts to run in a zig-zag. “That’s right,” I mutter, under my breath. “Don’t make it easy for him.” Then, even better, she comes to a thick stand of grass and drops down out of sight. “Good girl,” I breathe.

The understanding of nature’s complexity awaited a suspicion that the complexity was not just random, not just accident. It required a faith that the interesting feature of a lightning bolt’s path, for example, was not its direction, but rather the distribution of zigs and zags. Mandelbrot’s work made a claim about the world, and the claim was that such odd shapes carry meaning. The pits and tangles are more than blemishes distorting the classic shapes of Euclidian geometry. They are often the keys to the essence of a thing.

If you read the life stories of successful people you admire, often you’ll find that somewhere along the way they zigged when they thought they were going to zag, but that someone in their life presented the opportunity to them.

The Magic Gang was led by the famous magician Jasper Maskelyne and for details of his war years I am indebted to a fascinating book called The War Magician by David Fisher (Cassell).

While hallways in normal buildings went in nice, straight lines, the CIA’s zigged and zagged to discombobulate any bad guys who might have happened to infiltrate the building. Unfortunately, they also were discombobulating to any good people who happened to be there as well.

there’s a strength in innocence, but there’s also a strength in being devious.

Successful creativity never comes from a single idea. It always comes from many ideas in combination, whether we recognize them or not.

Calculus is the mathematics of change. It describes everything from the spread of epidemics to the zigs and zags of a well-thrown curveball. The subject is gargantuan—and so are its textbooks.

placed her hand upon a silver, globe-shaped apparatus. “Begonia’s Big Book of Botanical Blooms,” she whispered, causing a glowing white line to radiate out from the base of the ornate index in the direction of the shelf containing that particular book. As the line zigged and zagged between enormous stacks, Evalina always found it exciting to try to outrun it, even though she never won. Only once the spine of the book she had been looking for began to glow was the index’s task finally complete, and just as soon as Evalina retrieved the illustrated tome from its shelf, the line swiftly receded to its source.

Humans going into altered states of consciousness all react the same way, no matter where they come from. It is part of the way the human brain is wired. There are three stages of altered consciousness that have been recognised by laboratory experiment (Lewis-Williams & Dowson 1989: 60–67). In the first stage, people see zig-zags, dots and whorls. In the second stage this develops into a deeper trance experience, and the subjects see and feel a world more familiar to them, and can hear water, experience thirst, etc. The third stage is the deepest, and people in deep trance talk about entering a hole in the ground and seeing ‘real world’ imagery of animals and people. These different stages have been recognised in the rock art: stage one with grids, zig-zags, mesh shapes (such as nets); stage two with nested ‘U’ shapes and buzzing (interpreted as beehives); stage three with snakes coming out of the rock face, people with animal heads, etc. This last stage accompanies visual images of trancers in the dance, which include the ‘bent-over posture’ assumed by the shaman when dancing, and bleeding from the nose, which would occur when the shaman was physically under stress when entering the spirit world (Figure 4.4). Interviews with shamans have reported that at the moment of the climax, the power shoots up the spine and out of the top of the head. This, among the Ju/’hoansi Bushmen of Nyae Nyae, is called kia (Katz 1982), as we have seen in Chapter 3.

Calculus is the mathematics of change. It describes everything from the spread of epidemics to the zigs and zags of a well-thrown curveball. The subject is gargantuan—and so are its textbooks. Many exceed a thousand pages and work nicely as doorstops.

To all in the village I seemed, no doubt, To go this way and that way, aimlesssly. But here by the river you can see at twilight The soft-winged bats fly zig-zag here and there- They must fly so to catch their food. And if you have ever lost your way at night In the deep wood near Miller's Ford, And dodged this way and now that, Wherever the light of the Milky Way shone through, Trying to find the path, You should understand I sought the way With earnest zeal, and all my wanderings Were wanderings in the quest.

Zig-zag reality, how long can we drown in self deception; Open the doors of perception... and we wolves accept and howl, beholden Cheers to the hungry, lost dogs I hope you find a home, you know I hope you get a good bath; get shined up one day and glow I used to be a lost dog in gloom but, I've been a wolf for a while, returning my hunger to the moon I don't beg. And I hunt with style

There was always room in memory for nightmares.

When she made eye contact with him, he would have cleaved half the sky to offer her the safer portion of it.

In raising this cup to your lips, I bind you to me.

Your trust honored my ancestors. I am but their sum.

There is no predator so low as a scavenger pretending to be a hunter.

Mercy could be a complicated blessing to bestow.

The course of my thoughts?” “Are they honorable? Do they carry you through reality or shield you from it?

The stars are not out yet.” “Stars are fascinating. Always there but only seen on their own schedule.

Certainties were baubles.

There are those who attend public meetings solely to reinforce their penchant for bine nuisances.

Resume exploration. And put nothing in your mouths. Including frogs, no matter what they say.

Risks to a nine-year-old mind were varied and great. Needs, however, always outweighed them.

Warriors and witches were beyond dramatic.

Ayanda Khumalo had not yet been intimidated a second of her life.

Define love,” I asked. He answered immediately. “An accumulation of kindnesses.

The constitutional disease from which I suffer,” he wrote, “is what the Germans call Zerrissenheit or torn-to-pieces-hood. The days are broken in pure zig-zag and interruption.

THE CITY Our story begins in a city, with buildings and streets and bridges and parks. Humans were strolling, automobiles were driving, airships were flying, robots were hard at work. Weaving through the city streets was a delivery truck. The truck knew where to go, and how to get there, all by itself. It pulled up to a construction site and automatically unloaded some crates. A few more turns and it unloaded more crates down at the docks. The truck zigged and zagged across the city, delivering crates as it went, and then it merged onto a highway. Cars and buses and trucks were cruising along the highway together. But as the delivery truck continued, the traffic became lighter, the buildings became smaller, and the landscape became greener. With nothing but open road ahead, the truck accelerated to its top speed. The landscape outside was now just a green blur, occasionally broken by a flicker of gray as a town flew past. On and on the delivery truck went, racing over long bridges, shooting through mountain tunnels, gliding down straight stretches of highway, until it started to slow. It drifted from the fast lane to the exit lane, and then it rolled down a ramp and into farm country. Clouds of dust billowed up behind the truck as it drove past fields and fences. In the hazy distance, enormous barns loomed above the plains. The air was thick with the smells of soil and livestock. Robot crews methodically worked the crops and fed the animals and operated the massive farm machines. A hill gradually climbed into view. The hill was crowned with

If, with us you accept liberty as a principle, as a moral right supreme above all political conveniences, if you agree that force is a wrong -- except to restrain force -- then you will not hesitate about doing away with force or compulsion the first moment that you can succeed in doing so. If next year, good; if to-morrow, better still. If, on the other hand, you reject principle, treat everything as an open question and are guided by the many conflicting expediencies of the moment, then...you must hold on your zig-zag course...and with such fortuitous inspiration as comes to you, fighting one day in the ranks of the compulsionists and another day in the ranks of those who give liberty the supreme place.

the Misses of the house

was accepted that conduct with kitchen girls was much the same as needing to urinate or having additional hands to help with the ringing of the Abbey’s massive bell.

Sitcom Jesus had all the right ingredients but wasn’t funny enough for anyone to want to buy the entire first season on DVD.

Inquisitors steadfastly scourging themselves to increase the breadth and depth of their psychic probing.

Steak was a thick piece of meat with muscles in his lips, and club fingers.

a Congressman walks into a bar with his penis hanging out. There’s no joke.

You naughty boy!  You’ve been living in my knickers all this time,

screamed, feinted, sprayed blood

Crazy Is a Compliment: The Power of Zigging When Everyone Else Zags.

The dichotomy that uncertainty presents, then, is both a serendipitous and deliberate opportunity to create something from nothing, to find opportunity where others see conclusion. After all, only from chaos can calmness emerge. There is chaos we deal with as individuals, teams, and organizations; chaos that presents itself at the most inopportune times, and requires you to zig when you’d rather zag. No matter where you are, chaos finds you, and if you don’t know how to deal with change as an individual or as an organization, then you get eaten, swallowed whole, and left for dead.

As a business owner, it's challenging to stand out in the crowd. My philosophy is get out of the massive crown and be a crowd of one. When everyone else zigs, I zag.

Not only scientific theory was condemned as the work of the devil. The devil also seems to have known a lot more about navigation than the bloodthirsty Men of God. Many (perhaps most) ships sailing the Mediterranean in the Middle Ages had Jewish navigators, for the Christian captains and crews were not supposed to meddle with the devilish science of mathematics. In the 10th century, Raud the Strong, a Viking chieftain, escaped the fanatical Christianizing king of Norway Olaf Trygvasson by sailing into the wind (i.e., maintaining a zig-zag course whose average advances against the wind); the pious king, who was better acquainted with witchcraft than with the triangle of forces, thereupon accused Raud of being in alliance with the devil, and when he finally caught him, he had him killed by stuffing a viper down his throat.

Your father's last words were touching." Elie's breath hitched. "You're lying." "Why would I do that?" He reached into his vest and withdrew a silver chain. Dropping the piece into Ellie's hand, she realized what is was- her mother's ring, on the chain her dad always wore around his neck. "Hold your gusto, darlin'," he drawled, breath hot on her neck. "I didn't kill him." Ellie shook her head, staring at the ring. "How dare you?" she whispered. Jutting her chin out, Ellie grasped the front of Terrence's shirt. "So help me God, I'll-" "Making threats are we, now?" His brows raised in mock fear. "You're not in a place to be doing that." Open handed, Terrence shoved straight finger's into Ellie's ribs, sending her to the ground. Pain zig-zagged through her torso, nearly making her vomit. Ellie glared up at North as she willed the air back into her lungs. "I will never stop fighting," she wheezed as the room drifted out of focus then back again. Terrence crouched next to her. "Just remember lover-boy the next time you think about getting in my way.

How did my brother get injured?"[Shot while running from their enemies] she demanded. Letting out a cat like hiss, she tried to pull the cuffs again. This time he was ready for it. Tensing his arm, he stood his ground and didn't allow himself to move. "He zigged when he should have zagged.

For anyone who doesn’t know the sea I suppose it’s easy to frown and wonder what all the fuss and nerves are about: to ask how two modern ships with highly competent officers and in full sight of each other, both steaming on the same mean course, could possibly run the risk of collision. But it’s happened before, too often, even without the added stresses and strains of a critical zig-zag plan such as we were involved with. It’ll happen again when this war’s finished—maybe even more often as, presumably, merchant shipping increases in numbers and density. If there are any of us left to increase upon.

bromides.

These folks zigged when the rest of the world zagged. And once you cross the line, there's no coming back. Mark my words.