62
" And I may not omit here a special work of God's providence. There was a proud and very profane young man [aboard the Mayflower], one of the seamen, of a lusty, able body, which made him the more haughty; he would always be contemning the poor people in their [sea]sickness, and cursing them daily with grievous execrations, and did not let to tell them, that he hoped to help cast half of them overboard before they came to their journey's end, and to make merry with what they had; and if he were by any gently reproved, he would curse and swear most bitterly.
But it pleased God before they came half seas over, to smite this young man with a grievous disease, of which he died in a desperate manner, and so was himself the first that was thrown overboard. Thus his curses light on his own head; and it was an astonishment to all his fellows, for they noted it to be the just hand of God upon him. "
― William Bradford , Of Plymouth Plantation, 1620-1647
63
" It couldn’t have been that bad that he had to hurt you, Leo.”
“Oh no, it was bad. It was the fucking first twenty minutes of Saving Private Ryan bad, Jax.” Day paced as he listened to his brother go on about God accepting responsibility for his own actions.
“Jax, don’t get me wrong, I’m highly pissed off with my partner. I’m pissed off to the highest of pisstivity. But I still have to know that he’s okay. That crazy brother of his really landed some hard blows on him and God didn’t fight back at all.”
“Because it’s his baby brother. That I do get,” Jax said softly. “But I can’t check on him, Leo, because believe me, there is nothing here to clue me in on where he may have went.” Jax paused before speaking again. “I must say I’m curious how he got all that heavy furniture out of here if he was in as bad a shape as you say.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be too hard to do. A lot of people owe God favors—both of us actually. If God called someone for help, they’d drop everything and come to help.” Day took a deep breath. “The same as I would if he had called me.” Day’s voice was strained from the hurt in his chest and he had no doubt that Jax was picking up on it.
“That asshole,” Jax snapped.
“Whoa, big brother. Don’t go cursing away your do-gooder image. You know you’re not a vulgar-language type of person…leave that for us heathens.” Day laughed humorlessly.
Day heard his brother laugh an irritated chuckle at him for trying to lighten the situation.
“Fine. But, after he apologizes numerous times, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind,” Jax said.
Day did smile that time. He had no doubt his brother would do just that. "
― A.E. Via
65
" Security ... what does this word mean in relation to life as we know it today? For the most part, it means safety and freedom from worry. It is said to be the end that all men strive for; but is security a utopian goal or is it another word for rut?
Let us visualize the secure man; and by this term, I mean a man who has settled for financial and personal security for his goal in life. In general, he is a man who has pushed ambition and initiative aside and settled down, so to speak, in a boring, but safe and comfortable rut for the rest of his life. His future is but an extension of his present, and he accepts it as such with a complacent shrug of his shoulders. His ideas and ideals are those of society in general and he is accepted as a respectable, but average and prosaic man. But is he a man? has he any self-respect or pride in himself? How could he, when he has risked nothing and gained nothing? What does he think when he sees his youthful dreams of adventure, accomplishment, travel and romance buried under the cloak of conformity? How does he feel when he realizes that he has barely tasted the meal of life; when he sees the prison he has made for himself in pursuit of the almighty dollar? If he thinks this is all well and good, fine, but think of the tragedy of a man who has sacrificed his freedom on the altar of security, and wishes he could turn back the hands of time. A man is to be pitied who lacked the courage to accept the challenge of freedom and depart from the cushion of security and see life as it is instead of living it second-hand. Life has by-passed this man and he has watched from a secure place, afraid to seek anything better What has he done except to sit and wait for the tomorrow which never comes?
Turn back the pages of history and see the men who have shaped the destiny of the world. Security was never theirs, but they lived rather than existed. Where would the world be if all men had sought security and not taken risks or gambled with their lives on the chance that, if they won, life would be different and richer? It is from the bystanders (who are in the vast majority) that we receive the propaganda that life is not worth living, that life is drudgery, that the ambitions of youth must he laid aside for a life which is but a painful wait for death. These are the ones who squeeze what excitement they can from life out of the imaginations and experiences of others through books and movies. These are the insignificant and forgotten men who preach conformity because it is all they know. These are the men who dream at night of what could have been, but who wake at dawn to take their places at the now-familiar rut and to merely exist through another day. For them, the romance of life is long dead and they are forced to go through the years on a treadmill, cursing their existence, yet afraid to die because of the unknown which faces them after death. They lacked the only true courage: the kind which enables men to face the unknown regardless of the consequences.
As an afterthought, it seems hardly proper to write of life without once mentioning happiness; so we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed? "
― Hunter S. Thompson
67
" Ah, Robert?”
“Shhhh, not while I’m praying,” he said, momentarily losing his place before he started again, “thank you for letting us survive that trip from hell. Thank you for ignoring my prayers for a quick death when I didn’t think that I’d be able to survive another day of starvation,” he said, making her roll her eyes in annoyance.
“You were given three full meals a day just like everyone else,” she pointed out, not bothering to mention the fact that, on most days, he’d received second helpings. She sat down on a bench near their luggage, wondering just how much longer he was going to keep this up.
“I’m sorry for all the cursing that my wife forced me to do while I was on that boat,” he continued, ignoring her even as he amused her. “As you know, she’s been such a bad influence on me. Thank you for pulling me from near death and somehow giving me the strength to survive.”
“Near death?” she asked, frowning. “When were you near death?”
“When was I near death?” he asked in stunned disbelief as he opened his eyes so that he could glare at her.
“How could you forget all those times that I could barely move? When I struggled to find the will to live so that I wouldn’t leave you a young widow? Did my struggle for survival mean nothing to you?” he demanded in outrage, terrifying the people that were forced to walk past him to get to the docks and making her wrack her brain as she struggled to figure out what he was talking about.
“Do you mean those few times when you had a touch of seasickness?” she asked, unable to think of anything else that he could be talking about since he’d been the picture of health during the majority of the trip.
“A touch?” he repeated in disbelief. “I nearly died! "
― R.L. Mathewson , Truce (Neighbor from Hell, #4)
