The stormy March has come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast, That through the snowy valley flies.
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To be seventy years old is like climbing the Alps. You reach a snow-crowned summit, and see behind you the deep valley stretching miles and miles away, and before you other summits higher and whiter, which you may have strength to climb, or may not. Then you sit down and meditate and wonder which it will be.
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Every part of this soil is sacred in the estimation of my people. Every hillside, every valley, every plain and grove, has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished. Even the rocks, which seem to be dumb and dead as the swelter in the sun along the silent shore, thrill with memories of stirring events connected with the lives of my people, and the very dust upon which you now stand responds more lovingly to their footsteps than yours, because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors, and our bare feet are conscious of the sympathetic touch. Our departed braves, fond mothers, glad, happy hearted maidens, and even the little children who lived here and rejoiced here for a brief season, will love these somber solitudes and at eventide they greet shadowy returning spirits. And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children's children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land.
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RAGGARBRUDEN
Känns igen som ett stort lyckligt oväsen. Marscherar fram i lokalen med en öl i ena handen samtidigt som hon stöter som sjutton på intet ont anande killar. En långt ifrån blygsam varelse iklädd avklippt jeansväst som det står Chevrolet och pojkvännens namn på. Följer du av någon underlig anledning henne hem får du också mycket riktigt en svartsjuk 150 kilos volvoarbetare med matrester i skägget efter dig.
DEPPROCKAREN
Konstant uttråkad står hon vid utgången eller toaletterna. Tycker sig vara intelligentare och mer samhällsmedveten än andra, men kan i själva verket bara stava till Anarki, och då med sprayburk. Gillar poeter och sångare i punkband. Petar näsan.
OLYCKSFÅGELN
Om det så bara spills ut en enda öl på hela kvällen så är det olycksfågeln som får den på sig. Han fick också smittsamma utslag på sin första date, och har sedan dess haft ett rykte om sig att vara AIDS-smittad.
PERSONALEN
Måste alltid arbeta och ständigt umgås med alla dessa ovanstående. Ser därför alltid dödstrött ut och är ofta bakis. Att vidga sina vyer betyder för dem att gå till sängs med krogpersonal som arbetar på ett konkurrerande ställe och till och med i bland på samma ställe vilket också ofta orakar lite problem. Vet att Syphilis acquisita är förvärvad syfilis och inte medfödd.
MODELLEN
Har som förebild Birgitte Nielsen och Sillicon Valley. Solariebrun med ett otroligt självförtroende. Pratar aldrig med någon under- människa, det vill säga alla andra i lokalen. Blir hon tilltalad frågar hon: 'Och vem är du då?', på stockholmska trots att hon kommer från Yxböle. Är troligtvis hjärndöd.
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Once Confucius was walking on the mountains and he came across a woman weeping by a grave. He asked the woman what here sorrow was, and she replied, We are a family of hunters. My father was eaten by a tiger. My husband was bitten by a tiger and died. And now my only son! Why don't you move down and live in the valley? Why do you continue to live up here? asked Confucius. And the woman replied, But sir, there are no tax collectors here! Confucius added to his disciples, You see, a bad government is more to be feared than tigers.
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A poet's hope to be, like some valley cheese, local, but prized elsewhere.
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We are not built for the mountains and the dawns and aesthetic affinities, those are for moments of inspiration, that is all. We are built for the valley, for the ordinary stuff we are in, and that is where we have to prove our mettle. Spiritual selfishness always wants repeated moments on the mount. We feel we could talk like angels and live like angels, if only we could stay on the mount. The times of exaltation are exceptional, they have their meaning in our life with God, but we must beware lest our spiritual selfishness wants to make them the only time.
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Poetry makes nothing happen. It survives in the valley of its saying.
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Mark Twain, in an interview today, spoke about hazing at West Point, and denounced the practice as a brutal one and men who indulge in it as bullies and cowards. Why, he said, the fourth class man who is compelled to fight a man from the first class hasn't a show in the world, and it is not intended that he should. I have read the rules provided to prevent such practices, and they are wholly deficient, because one provision is omitted. I would make it the duty of a cadet to report to the authorities any case of hazing which came to his notice; make such reports a part of the vaunted West Point 'code of honor' and the beating of young boys by upper class men will be stopped. I am not opposed to fights among boys as a general thing. If they are conducted in a spirit of fairness, I think it makes boys manly, but I do oppose compelling a little fellow to fight some man big enough to whip two of him. When I was a boy, going to school down in the Mississippi Valley, we used to have our fights, and I remember one occasion on which I got soundly trounced, but we always matched boys as nearly of a size as possible, and there was none of the cowardly methods that seem to prevail at West Point.
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Time advances: facts accumulate; doubts arise. Faint glimpses of truth begin to appear, and shine more and more unto the perfect day. The highest intellects, like the tops of mountains, are the first to catch and to reflect the dawn. They are bright, while the level below is still in darkness. But soon the light, which at first illuminated only the loftiest eminences, descends on the plain, and penetrates to the deepest valley. First come hints, then fragments of systems, then defective systems, then complete and harmonious systems. The sound opinion, held for a time by one bold speculator, becomes the opinion of a small minority, of a strong minority, of a majority of mankind. Thus, the great progress goes on.
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Only if you have been in the deepest valley, can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain.
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The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish, and the tyranny of evil men.
Blessed is he who in the name of charity and goodwill shepards the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brothers keeper and the finder of lost children.
And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger, those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers.
And you will know my name is the LORD, when I lay my vengeance upon thee!
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I believe the single most significant decision I can make on a day-to-day basis is my choice of attitude. It is more important than my past, my education, my bankroll, my successes or failures, fame or pain, what other people think of me or say about me, my circumstances, or my position. Attitude keeps me going or cripples my progress. It alone fuels my fire or assaults my hope. When my attitudes are right, there is no barrier too high, no valley too deep, no dream too extreme, no challenge too great for me.
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Our well-founded claim, grounded on continuity, has greatly strengthened, during the same period, by the rapid advance of our population toward the territoryits great increase, especially in the valley of the Mississippias well as the greatly increased facility of passing to the territory by more accessible routes, and the far stronger and rapidly-swelling tide of population that has recently commenced flowing into it.
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The road to success leads through the valley of humility, and the path is up the ladder of patience and across the wide barren plains of perseverance. As yet, no short cut has ever been discovered.
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It took some heart out of us. It took some time to put the pieces back together. We're in a tough league (Ark Valley-Chisholm Trail Division II), and we had to play tough.... We had to keep fighting. We always emphasize the end of the year.
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The greatness comes not when things go always good for you. But the greatness comes when you're really tested, when you take some knocks, some disappointments, when sadness comes. Because only if you've been in the deepest valley can you ever know how magnificent it is to be on the highest mountain.
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The science hangs like a gathering fog in a valley, a fog which begins nowhere and goes nowhere, an incidental, unmeaning inconvenience to passers-by.
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No people require maxims so much as the American. The reason is obvious: the country is so vast, the people always going somewhere, from Oregon apple valley to boreal New England, that we do not know whether to be temperate orchards or sterile climate.
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My husband trained for two years at a McDonald's in Yakima. Then, we waited. We had to be willing to go anywhere in the country when a franchise came up. We feel fortunate to stay in the Northwest. We love the mid-valley.
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America has run the world for at least the past 50 years, and when you're at the top that long, you forget what it's like in the valley. There are 5+ billion people out there now who are willing to study harder, work harder for less money and be more industrious than we are. And we're linked to them by technology. With telecommunications, you can have your bookkeeping done in Madra, India, for less than it costs here. Today technology can replace whole new industries, so you have to stay flexible. To survive today, you have to be able to walk on quicksand and dance with electrons.
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On the road from the City of Skepticism, I had to pass through the Valley of Ambiguity. (Powers of Mind, 1975)
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When How Green Was My Valley finally wrapped, I thought John Ford was a walking god.
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I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.
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Then we'd get behind them and drive them up a valley. Then we'd stab a pig, it would cry, and then we'd roast it and eat it.
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Inquisitiveness and strength make me want to rise above my valley-bound brothers. I must reach the summit to see the truth.
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God listens to knee-mail.
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Silicon Valley is like a person running around in front of a steamroller. You can outrun the steamroller on any given day. But if you ever sit down you get squashed.
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I have a dream today. I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.
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.....and again we enter the valley of death, but we shall fear no evil for we are the baddest motherfuckers in the valley.
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