Every Day Quotes Week 42
Title: Every Day Quotes
Rating: K
Oct 21
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "The Two Gentlemen of Verona", Act 1 scene 1
Ziva David glanced up from her computer, satisfied herself that the squad room was virtually empty, or empty enough for her liking anyway, and clicked her tongue to get McGee’s attention.
To his credit, he looked up immediately. “Huh?”
“I believe you are the right person to ask,” she informed him solemnly. “I am confused, and you are an author.”
“I don’t see how they go together,” McGee mused.
She had to hurry him up; Tony could return from Abby’s lab any minute. “Shakespeare.”
“William Shakespeare, playwright,” McGee immediately answered. “What about him?”
Ziva looked around again, getting up from her seat so she wouldn’t have to shout across the empty space between them. “I do not understand what all the fuss is about,” she murmured to him.
“Shakespeare was a very talented writer of his day,” McGee began, but she cut him off impatiently.
“I know that. But that was then. I do not see what relevance he has today. I cannot understand half of what he is saying.”
McGee took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I don’t understand half of it either,” he admitted. “But it’s about the feelings he evokes. His writing echoes through to our time, that’s how good it is. Are you reading his writing or watching it being performed?”
“Reading,” she stated. “‘The Two Gentlemen of Verona’.”
He nodded. “It always makes more sense when you see it performed,” he confirmed. “I think it’s on in a few weeks at one of the theatres. We could go together?”
“It would be my pleasure,” she told him.
~*~*~*~
Oct 22
We don't know who we are until we see what we can do.
Martha Grimes
Timothy McGee wondered why he had bothered to get out of bed.
First his alarm clock had failed, after Sarah had removed the batteries the day before. Then, despite his desperate attempts to get to work on time, someone had stolen his car. Gibbs had yelled at him for arrived so late, Tony had put superglue on his keyboard again, and Ziva, who had thoughtfully bought him a coffee to cheer him up, had tripped over and dropped the scalding liquid in his lap.
Gibbs had made him work through his usual lunch hour, to ensure someone remained in the squad room while everyone else disappeared for food. Then he had been granted his own time for lunch, but he had too many errands to run before he could eat.
Which was how he found himself in the bank when the armed robber strolled in.
He wasn’t in the mood for this at all. The robber was just a kid, still in his teens, so inexperienced he hadn’t bothered to cover his face and was waving his gun around as though it was a toy. It could have been a toy for all Tim knew, but he wasn’t going to take a gamble and lose. Knowing his luck, he’d be in emergency surgery before the end of the day.
But that didn’t mean he was going to roll over and take this too.
The moment the gunman looked the other way, he pulled out his gun and took aim. “Federal agent,” he yelled. “Freeze.”
~*~*~*~
Oct 23
Remember, that if thou marry for beauty, thou bindest thyself all thy life for that which perchance will neither last nor please thee one year; and when thou hast it, it will be to thee of no price at all; for the desire dieth when it is attained, and the affection perisheth when it is satisfied.
Sir Walter Raleigh (1552 - 1618)
Tony DiNozzo could not understand why anyone would want to get married. It was such an archaic institution. Married men died younger, he was sure of it.
Why would anyone want to be tied to one person? He liked keeping his options open, especially as he fell in love one day and out of love three weeks later. Long term commitment wasn’t an option for him. What if he married a monster? He couldn’t follow his father’s usual route of simply moving.
He looked up to his boss in a lot of things, and one of them was marriage. With three failed marriages beneath his belt, scheming ex-wives and alimony hanging over his head, Gibbs was a walking advertisement for not getting married. Tony ignored the fact that the boss would happily get married again - he had to have a few screws loose to get married four times in the first place.
But marriage was pointless. All it really did was tie two people’s finances together, and the moment the relationship went sour, the fight for the money began. He saw too many spouses killing their other half in his day job. He wanted to live to a ripe old age.
Perhaps one day, if he met the right girl, his views would change. For now, the very idea of marriage was something to be scorned.
~*~*~*~
Oct 24
He had occasional flashes of silence, that made his conversation perfectly delightful.
Sydney Smith (1771 - 1845), referring to Macaulay
Timothy McGee resisted the urge to sigh and break the silence that had fallen over the squad room. He loved silence.
Not always, as evidenced when he spent time with Abby and they happily gossiped like old women while hacking into the CIA or something similar. He was happy with her music - it didn’t bother him and if it helped her work, he could live with it. He enjoyed having lunch with Ducky and talking about old cases or current world events. He liked giving secret readings of his latest novel to Ziva, who had been sworn to secrecy about the plotlines; he needed to bounce ideas off someone and if he could keep the Mossad assassin satisfied with what was happening to ‘Lisa’, he was more likely to live a long, pain-free life.
But silence in the squad room was glorious. Mainly because it meant Tony was keeping his mouth shut for once. Tony’s idea of a conversation made Tim want to block his ears or run away screaming. He didn’t need to know every detail about the other man’s social life and his current girlfriend, or the latest movie he’d seen or what he’d had for breakfast.
And there were other things he really didn’t want to know about at all.
Silence in the squad room was golden. The pauses in Tony’s conversation made his day.
~*~*~*~
Oct 25
In every age 'the good old days' were a myth. No one ever thought they were good at the time. For every age has consisted of crises that seemed intolerable to the people who lived through them.
Brooks Atkinson (1894 - 1984), Once Around the Sun (1951)
Ducky was very aware of history. He was not sure whether this was because he had a genuine interest in the subject, or whether he had simply lived so long and through so many different defining moments in history that he remembered them all well.
One thing he was very aware of was the constant calls that civilization was about to end, that society was breaking down and it was always so much better ‘back then’. Truth be told, he felt the allure of it himself. Viewing the past with rose-tinted spectacles made him feel happier, more content. A utopia that could be achieved if they just went back in time a little way.
But it was all an illusion. Every society felt exactly the same way. Records had been found from the Romans complaining that society was crumbling (although perhaps they had a point…). In reality, life continued to improve for the vast majority of people in the civilized world. Access to life-saving medicines. A free education for all. Increased life expectancy and wealth. A free press, a democratic government - he took these for granted when others could not.
Perhaps the crime rate went up at times, but anyone could prove anything was statistics. Ducky had heard Abigail arguing that an increase in crime rates could simply mean more people were reporting crimes, or more crimes were being solved, or some activity had been classed as a crime and people had yet to get the message.
Sometimes he had to remember himself that he was living in a good place at a good time. And he was able to surround himself with the people he loved and cared about, able to speak his mind on whatever subject he wished.
~*~*~*~
Oct 26
I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.
Nelson Mandela (1918 - )
Leroy Jethro Gibbs did not regard himself as a good man. A good man was a saint who never made mistakes. A good man would not have failed his family when they needed him the most.
Instead, he chose to view himself as a flawed man, perhaps simply a man as all were flawed, who tried to do his best in life. He might have lost his family, but he worked every hour he could to achieve justice for others who found themselves in his position through no fault of their own. He had gathered a group of people around him who all needed a family in one shape or another, and maintained a structure which they were all content with.
He made mistakes; everyone did. He had a string of ex-wives, drank more than was good for him, ignored or outright broke the law when he felt it was the only way to achieve justice for someone, and gave his friends headaches from all the trouble he caused them.
But he hoped his good deeds outweighed his bad. He brought back kidnap victims alive to their families. He defused bombs and hostage situations so no innocent would be hurt. He found closure for the dead, and hope for the living.
If he was a saint, he would hate to meet a sinner.
~*~*~*~
Oct 27
Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with.
Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)
“He is the cutest thing I have ever seen.”
“I know. And so soft!”
“He is?”
“You can touch him; he won’t bite.”
“But he appears to be asleep. I do not wish to wake him.”
“It’s fine. He falls asleep at the drop of a hat. And he looks so cute when you disturb his sleep.”
Jennifer Shepard grinned at her Israeli friend, who she had summoned mysteriously to her office five minutes ago. The reason lay curled in a ball on her desk, a tiny bundle of fluff. The most beautiful kitten in the shelter. She hadn’t planned to give him a home, but when he had looked at her with his big, wide, innocent eyes, she had fallen head over heels and couldn’t abandon him.
And now Ziva was falling in love as well.
The redhead reached out and gently poked her tiny fluffball, who jerked awake and looked around in confusion. As the two women cooed, they began to stroke him.
“Do you have a name for him yet?” Ziva inquired, tickling under his chin.
Jenny giggled. “I can’t decide between Jethro and Tobias,” she admitted.
Ziva smiled wickedly. “Perhaps we should ask Abby’s opinion on such an important matter.”
Rating: K
Oct 21
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "The Two Gentlemen of Verona", Act 1 scene 1
Ziva David glanced up from her computer, satisfied herself that the squad room was virtually empty, or empty enough for her liking anyway, and clicked her tongue to get McGee’s attention.
To his credit, he looked up immediately. “Huh?”
“I believe you are the right person to ask,” she informed him solemnly. “I am confused, and you are an author.”
“I don’t see how they go together,” McGee mused.
She had to hurry him up; Tony could return from Abby’s lab any minute. “Shakespeare.”
“William Shakespeare, playwright,” McGee immediately answered. “What about him?”
Ziva looked around again, getting up from her seat so she wouldn’t have to shout across the empty space between them. “I do not understand what all the fuss is about,” she murmured to him.
“Shakespeare was a very talented writer of his day,” McGee began, but she cut him off impatiently.
“I know that. But that was then. I do not see what relevance he has today. I cannot understand half of what he is saying.”
McGee took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I don’t understand half of it either,” he admitted. “But it’s about the feelings he evokes. His writing echoes through to our time, that’s how good it is. Are you reading his writing or watching it being performed?”
“Reading,” she stated. “‘The Two Gentlemen of Verona’.”
He nodded. “It always makes more sense when you see it performed,” he confirmed. “I think it’s on in a few weeks at one of the theatres. We could go together?”
“It would be my pleasure,” she told him.
~*~*~*~
Oct 22
We don't know who we are until we see what we can do.
Martha Grimes
Timothy McGee wondered why he had bothered to get out of bed.
First his alarm clock had failed, after Sarah had removed the batteries the day before. Then, despite his desperate attempts to get to work on time, someone had stolen his car. Gibbs had yelled at him for arrived so late, Tony had put superglue on his keyboard again, and Ziva, who had thoughtfully bought him a coffee to cheer him up, had tripped over and dropped the scalding liquid in his lap.
Gibbs had made him work through his usual lunch hour, to ensure someone remained in the squad room while everyone else disappeared for food. Then he had been granted his own time for lunch, but he had too many errands to run before he could eat.
Which was how he found himself in the bank when the armed robber strolled in.
He wasn’t in the mood for this at all. The robber was just a kid, still in his teens, so inexperienced he hadn’t bothered to cover his face and was waving his gun around as though it was a toy. It could have been a toy for all Tim knew, but he wasn’t going to take a gamble and lose. Knowing his luck, he’d be in emergency surgery before the end of the day.
But that didn’t mean he was going to roll over and take this too.
The moment the gunman looked the other way, he pulled out his gun and took aim. “Federal agent,” he yelled. “Freeze.”
~*~*~*~
Oct 23
Remember, that if thou marry for beauty, thou bindest thyself all thy life for that which perchance will neither last nor please thee one year; and when thou hast it, it will be to thee of no price at all; for the desire dieth when it is attained, and the affection perisheth when it is satisfied.
Sir Walter Raleigh (1552 - 1618)
Tony DiNozzo could not understand why anyone would want to get married. It was such an archaic institution. Married men died younger, he was sure of it.
Why would anyone want to be tied to one person? He liked keeping his options open, especially as he fell in love one day and out of love three weeks later. Long term commitment wasn’t an option for him. What if he married a monster? He couldn’t follow his father’s usual route of simply moving.
He looked up to his boss in a lot of things, and one of them was marriage. With three failed marriages beneath his belt, scheming ex-wives and alimony hanging over his head, Gibbs was a walking advertisement for not getting married. Tony ignored the fact that the boss would happily get married again - he had to have a few screws loose to get married four times in the first place.
But marriage was pointless. All it really did was tie two people’s finances together, and the moment the relationship went sour, the fight for the money began. He saw too many spouses killing their other half in his day job. He wanted to live to a ripe old age.
Perhaps one day, if he met the right girl, his views would change. For now, the very idea of marriage was something to be scorned.
~*~*~*~
Oct 24
He had occasional flashes of silence, that made his conversation perfectly delightful.
Sydney Smith (1771 - 1845), referring to Macaulay
Timothy McGee resisted the urge to sigh and break the silence that had fallen over the squad room. He loved silence.
Not always, as evidenced when he spent time with Abby and they happily gossiped like old women while hacking into the CIA or something similar. He was happy with her music - it didn’t bother him and if it helped her work, he could live with it. He enjoyed having lunch with Ducky and talking about old cases or current world events. He liked giving secret readings of his latest novel to Ziva, who had been sworn to secrecy about the plotlines; he needed to bounce ideas off someone and if he could keep the Mossad assassin satisfied with what was happening to ‘Lisa’, he was more likely to live a long, pain-free life.
But silence in the squad room was glorious. Mainly because it meant Tony was keeping his mouth shut for once. Tony’s idea of a conversation made Tim want to block his ears or run away screaming. He didn’t need to know every detail about the other man’s social life and his current girlfriend, or the latest movie he’d seen or what he’d had for breakfast.
And there were other things he really didn’t want to know about at all.
Silence in the squad room was golden. The pauses in Tony’s conversation made his day.
~*~*~*~
Oct 25
In every age 'the good old days' were a myth. No one ever thought they were good at the time. For every age has consisted of crises that seemed intolerable to the people who lived through them.
Brooks Atkinson (1894 - 1984), Once Around the Sun (1951)
Ducky was very aware of history. He was not sure whether this was because he had a genuine interest in the subject, or whether he had simply lived so long and through so many different defining moments in history that he remembered them all well.
One thing he was very aware of was the constant calls that civilization was about to end, that society was breaking down and it was always so much better ‘back then’. Truth be told, he felt the allure of it himself. Viewing the past with rose-tinted spectacles made him feel happier, more content. A utopia that could be achieved if they just went back in time a little way.
But it was all an illusion. Every society felt exactly the same way. Records had been found from the Romans complaining that society was crumbling (although perhaps they had a point…). In reality, life continued to improve for the vast majority of people in the civilized world. Access to life-saving medicines. A free education for all. Increased life expectancy and wealth. A free press, a democratic government - he took these for granted when others could not.
Perhaps the crime rate went up at times, but anyone could prove anything was statistics. Ducky had heard Abigail arguing that an increase in crime rates could simply mean more people were reporting crimes, or more crimes were being solved, or some activity had been classed as a crime and people had yet to get the message.
Sometimes he had to remember himself that he was living in a good place at a good time. And he was able to surround himself with the people he loved and cared about, able to speak his mind on whatever subject he wished.
~*~*~*~
Oct 26
I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.
Nelson Mandela (1918 - )
Leroy Jethro Gibbs did not regard himself as a good man. A good man was a saint who never made mistakes. A good man would not have failed his family when they needed him the most.
Instead, he chose to view himself as a flawed man, perhaps simply a man as all were flawed, who tried to do his best in life. He might have lost his family, but he worked every hour he could to achieve justice for others who found themselves in his position through no fault of their own. He had gathered a group of people around him who all needed a family in one shape or another, and maintained a structure which they were all content with.
He made mistakes; everyone did. He had a string of ex-wives, drank more than was good for him, ignored or outright broke the law when he felt it was the only way to achieve justice for someone, and gave his friends headaches from all the trouble he caused them.
But he hoped his good deeds outweighed his bad. He brought back kidnap victims alive to their families. He defused bombs and hostage situations so no innocent would be hurt. He found closure for the dead, and hope for the living.
If he was a saint, he would hate to meet a sinner.
~*~*~*~
Oct 27
Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with.
Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)
“He is the cutest thing I have ever seen.”
“I know. And so soft!”
“He is?”
“You can touch him; he won’t bite.”
“But he appears to be asleep. I do not wish to wake him.”
“It’s fine. He falls asleep at the drop of a hat. And he looks so cute when you disturb his sleep.”
Jennifer Shepard grinned at her Israeli friend, who she had summoned mysteriously to her office five minutes ago. The reason lay curled in a ball on her desk, a tiny bundle of fluff. The most beautiful kitten in the shelter. She hadn’t planned to give him a home, but when he had looked at her with his big, wide, innocent eyes, she had fallen head over heels and couldn’t abandon him.
And now Ziva was falling in love as well.
The redhead reached out and gently poked her tiny fluffball, who jerked awake and looked around in confusion. As the two women cooed, they began to stroke him.
“Do you have a name for him yet?” Ziva inquired, tickling under his chin.
Jenny giggled. “I can’t decide between Jethro and Tobias,” she admitted.
Ziva smiled wickedly. “Perhaps we should ask Abby’s opinion on such an important matter.”