Glen's Quotes Db (3169 total)

Farming is a joint venture between the farmer and God. The farmer cannot do what God must do, and God will not do what the farmer should do.

Democracy is a form of government that substitutes election by the incompetent many for appointment by the corrupt few.

Dear Mom, Scoutmaster Webb told us to write our parents in case you heard about the flood and got worried. We're all okay. Only one of our tents and two of our sleeping bags got washed away. Nobody drowned because we were all on the mountain looking for Chad when it happened. Oh yeah, please call Chad's mother and tell her he's okay. He can't write her because of the cast on his arm. I got to ride in one of the search and rescue jeeps! It was neat! We never would have found him in the dark if it hadn't been for all the lightning. Scoutmaster Webb got mad at Chad for going on a hike alone without telling anyone. Chad said he did tell him, but it was during the fire, so he probably didn't hear him. Did you know that if you put gas on a fire, the gas can will blow up? It was so cool! The wet wood still wouldn't burn, but one of our tents did, and some of our clothes. Boy, Johnny is going to look weird until his hair grows back! We'll be home Saturday if Scoutmaster Webb gets the car fixed. It wasn't his fault about the wreck. The brakes worked good when we left. But he said with a car that old you have to expect something to break down. That's probably why he can't get insurance. We think it's a neat car. He doesn't care if we get it dirty, and if it's hot, sometimes he lets us ride on the tailgate. It gets pretty hot with 15 people in the car. He let us take turns riding in the trailer until the highway patrolman stopped and yelled at him. This morning all of the guys were diving off the rocks and swimming out in the lake. Scoutmaster Webb wouldn't let me because I can't swim, and Chad was afraid he would sink because of his cast, so he let us take the canoe across the lake. It was great. You can still see some of the trees under the water from the flood. And Scoutmaster Webb isn't crabby like some scoutmasters. He didn't even get mad about us leaving the life jackets behind. He has to spend a lot of time working on the car, so we're trying not to cause him any trouble. Guess what? We passed our first aid merit badges. When Dave dove in the lake and cut his arm, we got to see how a tourniquet works. Also, Wade and I threw up. Scoutmaster Webb said it probably was just food poisoning from the left over chicken. He said they got sick like that with the food they ate in prison. I'm so glad he got out and became our scoutmaster. He said he figured out how to do things better while he was doing time. I have to go now. We are going in to town to mail this and buy some bullets and more gasoline. Don't worry about anything. We are doing just fine. Love, Your son

A businessman who was a chronic worrier decided to analyze his anxieties. He found that 40% of them were about things that were likely never to happen, 30 % were about past decisions that could not be changed, 12 % concerned criticism from others that didn't matter anyway, 10% were about his health (which he was already doing his best to protect), and only 8% were legitimate causes of worry. If we could eliminate our worries by 92%, we would be well on our way...

I believe that in all men's lives at certain periods, and in many men's lives at all periods between infancy and extreme old age, one of the most dominant elements is the desire to be inside the local Ring and the terror of being left outside. This desire, in one of its forms, has indeed had ample justice done to it in literature. I mean, in the form of snobbery. Victorian fiction is full of characters who are hag-ridden by the desire to get inside that particular Ring which is, or was, called Society. But it must be clearly understood that "Society," in that sense of the word, is merely one of a hundred Rings and snobbery therefore only one form of the longing to be inside. People who believe themselves to be free, and indeed are free, from snobbery, and who read satires on snobbery with tranquil superiority, may be devoured by the desire in another form. It may be the very intensity of their desire to enter some quite different Ring which renders them immune from the allurements of high life. An invitation from a duchess would be very cold comfort to a man smarting under the sense of exclusion from some artistic or communist coterie. Poor man-it is not large, lighted rooms, or champagne, or even scandals about peers and Cabinet Ministers that he wants: it is the sacred little attic or studio, the heads bent together, the fog of tobacco smoke, and the delicious knowledge that we-we four or five all huddled beside this stove-are the people who know. Often the desire conceals itself so well that we hardly recognize the pleasures of fruition. Men tell not only their wives but themselves that it is a hardship to stay late at the office or the school on some bit of important extra work which they have been let in for because they and So-and-so and the two others are the only people left in the place who really know how things are run. But it is not quite true. It is a terrible bore, of course, when old Fatty Smithson draws you aside and whispers "Look here, we've got to get you in on this examination somehow" or "Charles and I saw at once that you've got to be on this committee." A terrible bore... ah, but how much more terrible if you were left out! It is tiring and unhealthy to lose your Saturday afternoons: but to have them free because you don't matter, that is much worse. http://www.limbicnutrition.com/blog/archives/020944.html