Every Day Quotes Week 37
Title: Every Day Quotes
Rating: K
Sep 16
Here's what I think the truth is: We are all addicts of fossil fuels in a state of denial, about to face cold turkey.
Kurt Vonnegut (1922 - 2007), Cold Turkey
Jennifer Shepard knew she was more than a little addicted to caffeine. She liked to blame it on her old partner. Getting her hooked on Jamaican Blend, what had he been thinking?
In an effort to convince herself she wasn’t really addicted and could give up any time, she always attempted to go caffeine-free for one week a year. Unfortunately, as Director of an armed federal agency, there wasn’t really a good week in which to do this. And she sort of needed the caffeine to deal with all the messes her old partner got into.
Right now, sitting in her office and staring at her paperwork, with a meeting coming up with Senator Matheson, she needed all the caffeine goodness she could get. Unfortunately she couldn’t get drunk before midday on Day One of her attempt to live caffeine-free, especially not with a Senator coming to see her. She sighed. Maybe she should just ask Cynthia to fetch her a nice coffee and she would reschedule this for next week…
The door violently banged open and she tried not to jump out of her skin. No matter how many times Jethro did that, she would never quite get used to it.
“How can I help you this morning, Agent Gibbs?” she greeted him politely, hoping he would go away quickly.
He smirked, placing his coffee on her conference table where she couldn’t reach but could still smell it.
“Thanks,” she called after him as he left, closing the door behind him.
~*~*~*~
Sep 17
Be fit for more than the thing you are now doing. Let everyone know that you have a reserve in yourself; that you have more power than you are now using. If you are not too large for the place you occupy, you are too small for it.
James A. Garfield (1831 - 1881)
Tony DiNozzo jogged triumphantly into the squad room, tossing his rucksack under his desk and collapsing gratefully into his chair.
Unfortunately, the Probie did not pick up the bait. But his Mossad ninja chick looked up, blinked heavily, and decided to ask.
“Why are you jogging?”
He broke into a wide smile. Ah, to inform his teammates of new developments. “I met this girl at the gym,” he began, only for Ziva to interrupt him.
“What were you doing at the gym? Normally you avoid those places as if they are known carriers of the plague.”
He stuck out his tongue at her. “I belong to a gym, Ms David. And while I was there last week, I met their newest instructor. Mandy.”
“Of course this involves a girl.” Ziva dropped her pen onto her desk and leant back in her chair. “Let me guess, you are trying to get fit for her.”
Tony stared at her. Did they teach mind-reading at Mossad? “How’d you know?”
McGee snorted from over at his desk. Apparently he wasn’t working as hard as he appeared. “Lucky guess,” he offered.
“I ran three miles this morning,” Tony boasted.
“Very good.” For once, Ziva did not appear to be teasing him. “Would you like to run with me tomorrow?”
“Go ahead,” he smiled. “Do your worst.”
“Very well.” Her grin became feral. “Zero five hundred, my place. We will do an eight mile circuit.”
He groaned. He’d walked right into that.
~*~*~*~
Sep 18
Everything passes, everything breaks, everything wearies.
French Proverb
Ziva David was no longer surprised that NCIS’ resident forensic scientist never seemed to change.
Over time, she had watched everyone in her life change. Her father had become more aloof and withdrawn. Ari had turned to the wrong side. Gibbs had slowly started to speak more often, although getting more than one sentence out of him at a time was like prying teeth. Tony was even more slowly becoming more responsible. McGee was becoming more confident in himself.
Ziva could even recognize changes in herself. She was more open, more willing to show her emotions and her vulnerabilities. She was willing to love and be loved. She had friends she cared about and could admit the truth to.
But Abby never changed. Abby was always filled with joy, filled with knowledge, capable of the greatest act of kindness and not realizing what a difference she made in the world. She was a shining beacon of light, drawing people to her like moths to a flame. But this flame did not kill them; it filled them with hope, with love, with admiration. She knew the best thing to say in every situation.
While Ziva was used to everything changing, she wished Abby would stay the way she was. There was no way to improve her friend.
~*~*~*~
Sep 19
Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough.
Og Mandino (1923 - 1996)
Timothy McGee focused exclusively on the computer in front of him. He could do this, he could do this, he could do this.
Gibbs had asked him to access a suspect’s financials. Normally, Tim could do it in his sleep, which helped when he was bone-tired and the boss was cracking the whip. He had done it so many times, his fingers knew the paths to trace on the keyboard. It was no longer a difficult task, just one that took a little bit of time.
Tim sorely wished he could face their current suspect in Interrogation whenever Tony tracked him down. Who the hell had a Swiss bank account anyway? Their suspect had never left the country so it wasn’t like he had a legitimate excuse for having one, though Tim was sure an expensive lawyer could come up with one.
He bent over his keyboard, determined to find a way into this. Blooming Swiss, protecting their records so carefully. Maybe afterwards he would reflect that it was nice to face a challenge every once in a while, especially given how fast he could access, say, Gibbs’ financials.
He would find a way in. It was only a matter of time…
~*~*~*~
Sep 20
In addition to my other numerous acquaintances, I have one more intimate confidant. My depression is the most faithful mistress I have known -- no wonder, then, that I return the love.
Soren Kierkegaard (1813 - 1855)
Sometimes, Ducky wondered why he bothered. It wasn’t most people’s thought of ‘I should retire and explore the world, or spend more time with my family, or just spend more time in my garden.’ The Scotsman could have retired years ago, but he had his reasons for staying.
But then he remembered the justice he achieved for so many of his guests. He recalled giving them names and voices, making their story heard. He thought of how many killers he was responsible for putting behind bars, and it helped, for a while.
Most days, the fight seemed endless. He helped one poor soul achieve justice while two more were wheeled into his autopsy suite. Death never rested. Death didn’t care about weekends or holidays. Death never paused, and only seemed to get more violent and senseless.
Sometimes he wondered why he put so much effort it. When he looked back and saw how many guests he had had, the number seemed endless. Nothing ever changed. Murder marched onwards.
But when he thought of his guests as individuals, as people who had once lived, breathed and loved, he realized he could never give up his vocation. If he could find justice for just one individual, it would make a world of difference. If he viewed everything as one individual after another, he could see in the eyes of the family how important his job was.
Some days he would have doubts. Most of the time, he had faith in himself.
~*~*~*~
Sep 21
It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.
Rose Kennedy (1890 - 1995)
Abby Scuito grinned as Jenny walked into her lab. Temporarily abandoning her entomological report, she scurried over to the redhead and enveloped her in a hug.
To her credit, Jenny didn’t even need to take a step back. Abby had trained her well.
She released her friend, caught her by the hand and briefly wondered if the Director’s protection detail would jump on her for touching the redhead, and dragged her over to her workstation.
“We need to talk,” she insisted.
Jenny just looked bemused. “About what?”
“We can discuss Tony, Ziva and that supply closet next to Legal later,” Abby babbled.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Jenny gently pointed out.
Abby’s eyes lit up. “Scars. Gibbs showed me his scar yesterday, the one where he got shot in the butt? So today, everyone who comes to my lab needs to show me an interesting scar.”
“Do I want to know why Jethro showed you that scar?” Jenny wondered out loud.
“Because I asked!” Abby beamed.
Jenny shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. Hang on.” She began to unbutton her crisp Oxford shirt, Abby keeping an eye on the door in case anyone should wander in. It wouldn’t do for Tony to snap a picture.
“Here.” Abby looked at Jenny’s upper back, just below her right shoulder blade. A neat scar cut across her fair skin.
“What happened?” Now the Goth was intrigued.
Jenny began to button her shirt back up. “Israel. Knife. I’m sure Ziva would happily give you the details, and then you could ask her about this supply closet business.”
Abby grinned. An excellent idea.
~*~*~*~
Sep 22
It is bitter to lose a friend to evil, before one loses him to death.
Mary Renault, The Praise Singer, 1978
In the darkest of nights, when she could not sleep and was resigned to watching raindrops cascade down her window, Ziva David thought of her brother.
She did not think of those happy moments in her childhood when it seemed nothing was wrong with the world, and if there was Ari would protect her and save her. She did not think of all the times he had made her and Tali laugh, the adventures they had had together. She did not think of the times she had been afraid and he had soothed her, or of the childish fear of storms he had known about and the times he had allowed her to crawl into his bed so she would feel safe.
Only when the world was sleeping did she allow herself to wonder if it would have been better had he died before he had betrayed his country and himself.
She knew she would prefer to die before she did the same. Her loyalty to the cause was absolute, but then again she had believed Ari’s to be too. If he had died, whether in the field or by being hit by a vehicle or from some sort of illness, would she now view him better?
Or was it best that she had seen the evil within him and pulled the trigger herself?
She reached out and traced a slow raindrop with her fingertip. She would never know, but she knew what hurt the most.
Her brother was dead.
Rating: K
Sep 16
Here's what I think the truth is: We are all addicts of fossil fuels in a state of denial, about to face cold turkey.
Kurt Vonnegut (1922 - 2007), Cold Turkey
Jennifer Shepard knew she was more than a little addicted to caffeine. She liked to blame it on her old partner. Getting her hooked on Jamaican Blend, what had he been thinking?
In an effort to convince herself she wasn’t really addicted and could give up any time, she always attempted to go caffeine-free for one week a year. Unfortunately, as Director of an armed federal agency, there wasn’t really a good week in which to do this. And she sort of needed the caffeine to deal with all the messes her old partner got into.
Right now, sitting in her office and staring at her paperwork, with a meeting coming up with Senator Matheson, she needed all the caffeine goodness she could get. Unfortunately she couldn’t get drunk before midday on Day One of her attempt to live caffeine-free, especially not with a Senator coming to see her. She sighed. Maybe she should just ask Cynthia to fetch her a nice coffee and she would reschedule this for next week…
The door violently banged open and she tried not to jump out of her skin. No matter how many times Jethro did that, she would never quite get used to it.
“How can I help you this morning, Agent Gibbs?” she greeted him politely, hoping he would go away quickly.
He smirked, placing his coffee on her conference table where she couldn’t reach but could still smell it.
“Thanks,” she called after him as he left, closing the door behind him.
~*~*~*~
Sep 17
Be fit for more than the thing you are now doing. Let everyone know that you have a reserve in yourself; that you have more power than you are now using. If you are not too large for the place you occupy, you are too small for it.
James A. Garfield (1831 - 1881)
Tony DiNozzo jogged triumphantly into the squad room, tossing his rucksack under his desk and collapsing gratefully into his chair.
Unfortunately, the Probie did not pick up the bait. But his Mossad ninja chick looked up, blinked heavily, and decided to ask.
“Why are you jogging?”
He broke into a wide smile. Ah, to inform his teammates of new developments. “I met this girl at the gym,” he began, only for Ziva to interrupt him.
“What were you doing at the gym? Normally you avoid those places as if they are known carriers of the plague.”
He stuck out his tongue at her. “I belong to a gym, Ms David. And while I was there last week, I met their newest instructor. Mandy.”
“Of course this involves a girl.” Ziva dropped her pen onto her desk and leant back in her chair. “Let me guess, you are trying to get fit for her.”
Tony stared at her. Did they teach mind-reading at Mossad? “How’d you know?”
McGee snorted from over at his desk. Apparently he wasn’t working as hard as he appeared. “Lucky guess,” he offered.
“I ran three miles this morning,” Tony boasted.
“Very good.” For once, Ziva did not appear to be teasing him. “Would you like to run with me tomorrow?”
“Go ahead,” he smiled. “Do your worst.”
“Very well.” Her grin became feral. “Zero five hundred, my place. We will do an eight mile circuit.”
He groaned. He’d walked right into that.
~*~*~*~
Sep 18
Everything passes, everything breaks, everything wearies.
French Proverb
Ziva David was no longer surprised that NCIS’ resident forensic scientist never seemed to change.
Over time, she had watched everyone in her life change. Her father had become more aloof and withdrawn. Ari had turned to the wrong side. Gibbs had slowly started to speak more often, although getting more than one sentence out of him at a time was like prying teeth. Tony was even more slowly becoming more responsible. McGee was becoming more confident in himself.
Ziva could even recognize changes in herself. She was more open, more willing to show her emotions and her vulnerabilities. She was willing to love and be loved. She had friends she cared about and could admit the truth to.
But Abby never changed. Abby was always filled with joy, filled with knowledge, capable of the greatest act of kindness and not realizing what a difference she made in the world. She was a shining beacon of light, drawing people to her like moths to a flame. But this flame did not kill them; it filled them with hope, with love, with admiration. She knew the best thing to say in every situation.
While Ziva was used to everything changing, she wished Abby would stay the way she was. There was no way to improve her friend.
~*~*~*~
Sep 19
Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough.
Og Mandino (1923 - 1996)
Timothy McGee focused exclusively on the computer in front of him. He could do this, he could do this, he could do this.
Gibbs had asked him to access a suspect’s financials. Normally, Tim could do it in his sleep, which helped when he was bone-tired and the boss was cracking the whip. He had done it so many times, his fingers knew the paths to trace on the keyboard. It was no longer a difficult task, just one that took a little bit of time.
Tim sorely wished he could face their current suspect in Interrogation whenever Tony tracked him down. Who the hell had a Swiss bank account anyway? Their suspect had never left the country so it wasn’t like he had a legitimate excuse for having one, though Tim was sure an expensive lawyer could come up with one.
He bent over his keyboard, determined to find a way into this. Blooming Swiss, protecting their records so carefully. Maybe afterwards he would reflect that it was nice to face a challenge every once in a while, especially given how fast he could access, say, Gibbs’ financials.
He would find a way in. It was only a matter of time…
~*~*~*~
Sep 20
In addition to my other numerous acquaintances, I have one more intimate confidant. My depression is the most faithful mistress I have known -- no wonder, then, that I return the love.
Soren Kierkegaard (1813 - 1855)
Sometimes, Ducky wondered why he bothered. It wasn’t most people’s thought of ‘I should retire and explore the world, or spend more time with my family, or just spend more time in my garden.’ The Scotsman could have retired years ago, but he had his reasons for staying.
But then he remembered the justice he achieved for so many of his guests. He recalled giving them names and voices, making their story heard. He thought of how many killers he was responsible for putting behind bars, and it helped, for a while.
Most days, the fight seemed endless. He helped one poor soul achieve justice while two more were wheeled into his autopsy suite. Death never rested. Death didn’t care about weekends or holidays. Death never paused, and only seemed to get more violent and senseless.
Sometimes he wondered why he put so much effort it. When he looked back and saw how many guests he had had, the number seemed endless. Nothing ever changed. Murder marched onwards.
But when he thought of his guests as individuals, as people who had once lived, breathed and loved, he realized he could never give up his vocation. If he could find justice for just one individual, it would make a world of difference. If he viewed everything as one individual after another, he could see in the eyes of the family how important his job was.
Some days he would have doubts. Most of the time, he had faith in himself.
~*~*~*~
Sep 21
It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.
Rose Kennedy (1890 - 1995)
Abby Scuito grinned as Jenny walked into her lab. Temporarily abandoning her entomological report, she scurried over to the redhead and enveloped her in a hug.
To her credit, Jenny didn’t even need to take a step back. Abby had trained her well.
She released her friend, caught her by the hand and briefly wondered if the Director’s protection detail would jump on her for touching the redhead, and dragged her over to her workstation.
“We need to talk,” she insisted.
Jenny just looked bemused. “About what?”
“We can discuss Tony, Ziva and that supply closet next to Legal later,” Abby babbled.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Jenny gently pointed out.
Abby’s eyes lit up. “Scars. Gibbs showed me his scar yesterday, the one where he got shot in the butt? So today, everyone who comes to my lab needs to show me an interesting scar.”
“Do I want to know why Jethro showed you that scar?” Jenny wondered out loud.
“Because I asked!” Abby beamed.
Jenny shrugged her shoulders. “Okay. Hang on.” She began to unbutton her crisp Oxford shirt, Abby keeping an eye on the door in case anyone should wander in. It wouldn’t do for Tony to snap a picture.
“Here.” Abby looked at Jenny’s upper back, just below her right shoulder blade. A neat scar cut across her fair skin.
“What happened?” Now the Goth was intrigued.
Jenny began to button her shirt back up. “Israel. Knife. I’m sure Ziva would happily give you the details, and then you could ask her about this supply closet business.”
Abby grinned. An excellent idea.
~*~*~*~
Sep 22
It is bitter to lose a friend to evil, before one loses him to death.
Mary Renault, The Praise Singer, 1978
In the darkest of nights, when she could not sleep and was resigned to watching raindrops cascade down her window, Ziva David thought of her brother.
She did not think of those happy moments in her childhood when it seemed nothing was wrong with the world, and if there was Ari would protect her and save her. She did not think of all the times he had made her and Tali laugh, the adventures they had had together. She did not think of the times she had been afraid and he had soothed her, or of the childish fear of storms he had known about and the times he had allowed her to crawl into his bed so she would feel safe.
Only when the world was sleeping did she allow herself to wonder if it would have been better had he died before he had betrayed his country and himself.
She knew she would prefer to die before she did the same. Her loyalty to the cause was absolute, but then again she had believed Ari’s to be too. If he had died, whether in the field or by being hit by a vehicle or from some sort of illness, would she now view him better?
Or was it best that she had seen the evil within him and pulled the trigger herself?
She reached out and traced a slow raindrop with her fingertip. She would never know, but she knew what hurt the most.
Her brother was dead.