#captain

You will find the poet who wrings the heart of the world, or the foremost captain of his time, driving a bargain or paring a potato, just as you would do. ↗

— Rebecca Harding Davis

#captain #driving #find #foremost #heart

It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. ↗

— William Ernest Henley

#fate #master #death

Smee, you are a supreme idjit." "Aye, Cap'n. ↗

— Ridley Pearson

#humor #obedience #smee #humor

She can't afford to commit more troops,' Holly whispered. 'The gate is her priority, and she needs to have as many Berserkers watching her back as possible. We are secondary at this point.' 'That will be her undoing,' Artemis gasped, already suffering under the weight of the flak jacket. 'Artemis Fowl will never be secondary.' 'I thought you were Artemis Fowl the Second?' said Holly. ↗

— Eoin Colfer

#captain-short #eight #eoin-colfer #holly-short #humor

The perfect being, huh? There is no such thing as perfect in this world. That may sound cliché, but it’s the truth. The average person admires perfection and seeks to obtain it. But, what’s the point of achieving perfection? There is none. Nothing. Not a single thing. I loathe perfection! If something is perfect, then there is nothing left. There is no room for imagination. No place left for a person to gain additional knowledge or abilities. Do you know what that means? For scientists such as ourselves, perfection only brings despair. It is our job to create things more wonderful than anything before them, but never to obtain perfection. A scientist must be a person who finds ecstasy while suffering from that antimony. In short, the moment that foolishness left your mouth and reached my ears, you had already lost. Of course, that’s assuming you are a scientist ↗

— Tite Kubo

#captain #death #kurotsuchi #mad #madness

Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. ↗

— Jane Austen

#captain-wentworth #love #death

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. ↗

— Jane Austen

#death

My fate cannot be mastered; it can only be collaborated with and thereby, to some extent, directed. Nor am I the captain of my soul; I am only its noisiest passenger. ↗

— Aldous Huxley

#cannot #captain #collaborated #directed #extent

Books that have become classics - books that have had their day and now get more praise than perusal - always remind me of retired colonels and majors and captains who, having reached the age limit, find themselves retired on half pay. ↗

— Thomas Bailey Aldrich

#always #become #books #captains #classics

She was married, true; but if one's husband was always sailing round Cape Horn, was it marriage? If one liked him, was it marriage? If one liked other people, was it marriage? And finally, if one still wished, more than anything in the whole world, to write poetry, was it marriage? She had her doubts. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#sea-captain-husband #marriage