Best 410 quotes in «mma quotes» category

How to become the President of Liberia from “Liberia & Beyond” In 1973, Charles Taylor enrolled as a student at Bentley University, in Waltham, Massachusetts. A year later Taylor became chairman of the Union of Liberian Associations in America, which he founded on July 4, 1974. The mission of ULAA was meant to advance the just causes of Liberians and Liberia at home and abroad. In 1977 Taylor graduated from Bentley University with a Bachelor of Arts degree in economics. Returning to Liberia he supported the violent coup, led by Samuel Doe, and became the Director General of the General Services Agency most likely because of his supposed loyalty. His newly acquired elevated position put him in charge of all the purchases made for the Liberian government. Taylor couldn’t resist the urge of stealing from the till, and in May of 1983, he was found out and fired for embezzling nearly a million dollars in State funds. During this time he transferred his ill-gotten money to a private bank account in the United States. On May 21, 1984, seizing the opportunity, Taylor fled to America where he was soon apprehended and charged with embezzlement by United States Federal Marshals in Somerville, Massachusetts. Taylor was held in the Plymouth, County jail until September 15, 1985, when he escaped with two of his cohorts, by sawing through the steel bars covering a window in his cell. He precariously lowered himself down 20 feet of knotted sheets and then deftly escaped into the nearby woodlands. He most likely had accomplices, since his wife Jewel Taylor conveniently met him with a car, which they then drove to Staten Island in New York City.

Hurricane Daisy delayed the continuing surveillance, however when they could resume flying on October 14th, the crystal-clear photos indicated that launch sites were being prepared for both mobile medium-sized missiles, and more extensive sites for the larger-sized ballistic missiles. Although the actual missiles were not yet in place, the CIA understood the enormity of the threat. Missiles that could reach 2,000 miles into the United States could not be ignored! With Cuba only 90 miles to the south of Key West, it posed an extreme threat to national security. On October 22, 1962, the discovery of these missiles was finally announced to the public, and a naval quarantine was implemented around Cuba. President Kennedy was careful not to call it a “blockade,” since use of the word would be considered an act of war! Regardless, U.S. warships were deployed that would intercept and board any ship heading to the island. Castro announced that Cuba had the right to defend itself from American aggression. He added that the decision to deploy missiles was a joint action on the part of both Cuba and the Soviet Union. Kennedy discounted Castro’s bluster but not the threat. The final decision to remove the missiles from Cuban soil would be between Khrushchev and Kennedy, without any Cuban involvement. Allowing Khrushchev to save face, Kennedy agreed to remove American missiles aimed at the Soviet Union from Italy and Turkey. It also included a commitment that the United States would not invade Cuba.

I could feel the overwhelming heat and humidity pour through the open door before I even walked out onto the steps that had been rolled up to the airplane door. What happened next was staggering and quite intimidating. What passed as soldiers came up to the bottom of ladder and pointed their automatic weapons at the passengers. Ignoring the protests of airport officials, the passengers were herded by these heavily armed ragtag soldiers of the Liberian Security Forces, across the tarmac to a small arrival building, having an attached control tower. This was the terminal, administrative building and gateway to Liberia all in one. Autocratic officials, wearing torn military type uniforms sat at small wooden desks, pompously asking questions, taking money and stamping papers. Soldiers equally ill attired, opened suitcases and bags, roughly tearing through them and lifting the contents with the bayonets of their rifles. Brazenly and without offering any explanation they confiscated any personal articles that attracted their attention. Fortunately I didn’t have anything other than a bottle of aftershave, but I could see a woman that was pleading for the return of her wedding ring. After much palaver and the intervention of an officer did the soldier returned her ring, but not until after she gave them some money. Dash.

I knew that once I was sworn in, I would be a Midshipman in the United States Naval Reserve and a Cadet in the United States Maritime Service. That meant that I would be a low life “plebe” or “mugg” to the upperclassmen. Everyone on the bus had a good idea of what we were in for as muggs, and it was not good. The bus rolled through Bucksport and then passed through Orland, which could hardly be called a town, onto even narrower, bumpier roads, to what seemed to be the end of the Earth. By now, it was getting late and the shadows were getting longer, as the bus ground up a long incline and then turned right, past a small golf course on a barren hill. Finally, I saw the “Maine Maritime Academy” sign, indicating that we had arrived. I don’t know what I expected, but the few buildings on the side of this windblown hill wasn’t it! The buildings that I was looking at would be my home for the next three years. The bus took a final left hand turn and pulled up alongside a relatively large red brick building. I could see the upperclassmen through large windows, anxiously awaiting our arrival. Seeing us, they finally knew that they had graduated to the exalted position of “Lord and Master.” For the first time, I got that sickening feeling of total helplessness, mixed with apprehension and anxiety. There was nowhere to hide and I refused to show my feelings, so I compensated by getting off the bus with a swagger and a smug grin that would soon get me into trouble and be wiped from my face. If I wanted to survive, I had better be ready to play their game and put up with the countless acts of immaturity that would be bestowed upon poor me….

It was a long time since I had had anything to eat and I was becoming very hungry. I didn’t know where my next meal would come from and I knew that I was facing a long journey ahead. Hunger was something we all learned to live with in wartime Germany. The compartment was now completely full. Looking out to the passageway through the inside window, I could see a German soldier standing in the crowded passageway. He had his back to the outside window and I could see his reflection and knew that he had field rations attached to his belt. As he glanced towards me, he could see how hungry and drawn I looked. I was grateful when he kindly offered to share his rations with me. Although many people became nasty and bitter because of the trials of war, there were still some kind and decent people left. There was no doubt but that this war had left an indelible imprint on everyone!

It was hard for me to believe that I had graduated from High School the week before and was now a crewmember on a Dutch ship. This was my first job aboard ship and now I found myself heading down the Hudson River, past the Statue of Liberty. There wasn’t much time for sightseeing since the dinner chimes had been rung and the few passengers we had, were coming into the dining room. No one had explained my duties but I watched the other stewards and followed suit. I must have been a fast learner since amazingly enough all went well, and before I knew it the dining room was empty and it was cleanup time. I’m certain that having worked in my uncle’s restaurants helped but I’m glad I survived without any mishaps. I knew that tomorrow would go even smoother now that I understood the routine. I really don’t know if getting a job aboard a foreign ship was easier in the “50’s” or was it that the ship needed another steward and I was willing to be a strike breaker? No one on the ship mentioned the strike and everyone treated me as just another member of the crew. Mostly everyone aboard spoke Dutch and amazingly enough I understood them. Dutch being a Germanic language was very similar to the German spoken in the lowlands, which included Hamburg. It didn’t take long before I was answering and then conversing with the crew…. Although I was on the bottom rung of the ladder I felt right at home. My bunk was at the top of a three bunk stack in the crew’s quarters, high up against the chain locker. The bathroom, called the “head” in English, didn’t have toilets or urinals. Instead I had to perfect my aim as I balanced myself over a hole in the deck. Fortunately there were places for my feet and handholds to help me stabilize myself in this balancing act. With no partitions for modesty I soon lost my inhibitions and became deft at this. At least they furnished the paper and considering it all, life was good!

Most of the settlements which were founded in Greenland, in about the year 1,000, remained inhabited until well into “The Little Ice Age,” which started in 1350 and lasted for approximately 500 years. In the beginning when the weather was considerably warmer, about 400 farms were started by the Viking farmers. However later, the extreme cold and glacial ice made farming on Greenland nearly impossible in these frigid northern latitudes. Recently, archaeologists discovered a Viking village that was radiocarbon dated back to circa 1430. In the year 985, having been blown off course, Bjarni Herjolfsson became the first Viking to see the coast of North America. However, he missed his chance for fame…. Being more interested in getting home, he never set foot on the “New Continent.” Instead, he set his course back to Greenland, leaving the discovery of America to others.

My mother worked at the Five Corners Bakery, on the southwest corner of Journal Square. The Five Corners Bakery is now long gone. However, celebrities including Frank Sinatra sometimes came in to buy pastries for their cast and crew. At the end of the day, she sometimes brought home the leftover cakes or traded them for theater tickets, which made my brother and me happy. The original Five Corners Bakery at 591 Summit Avenue has changed hands a few times throughout the years, and has now been renamed the Red Ribbon Bakeshop. As such, I understand it enjoys the same excellent reputation the Five Corners Bakery did so many years ago.

On August 12, 1933, Machado fled Cuba with ABC terrorists shooting at his airplane as it prepared to take off from the runway, leaving Cuba without any continuity of leadership. A smooth transfer of authority to the next administration became impossible in Havana. American envoy, Sumner Welles stepped into the vacuum and encouraged Carlos Manuel de Céspedes y Quesada to accept the office of Provisional President of Cuba. Céspedes was a Cuban writer and politician, born in New York City, son of Carlos Manual de Céspedes del Castillo who was a hero of the Cuban War of Independence. Wearing a spotlessly clean, crisp white suit, Céspedes was installed as the Provisional President of Cuba, on what was his 62nd birthday.

The fact that my parents did not have the where-with-all to buy toys, didn’t slow me down. Sometimes at the nearby dumps or in garbage cans, I would find discarded toys that could be repaired. In some cases, my father would restore a toy, such as my pedal fire engine that he fixed and repainted. My cousin Walter and I enjoyed years of peddling around, bumping into things and pretending to put out non-existing fires. Never mind that it had been restored, for us it was as good, if not better, than new. Papa was fairly handy. He didn’t always get it right, but more often than not he fixed things good enough for them to work again. He was also a reasonably good artist and painted copies of artwork done by well-known artists. For whatever reason, I never saw him do anything original, but his work did inspire me to try painting and construct things by myself. Much of the material I used came from the other side of U.S. Highway 1, or Tonnele Avenue, where the dumps were located. I didn’t know it at the time, however Tonnele Avenue was named after John Tonnele, a farmer and politician in the 1800’s. There were also some railroad tracks that I had to cross, but the dangers of crossing a highway or railroad tracks didn’t stop me, even though there were frequent articles in the Jersey Journal of people getting hurt or killed doing exactly this. To me the dumps were a warehouse of treasures.

The SS Deutschland was one of a group of four ships that included the SS Albert Ballin, on which my father had originally come to the United States. The other two were the SS Hamburg, and the SS New York. The Deutschland was launched during the Roaring Twenties on April 28, 1923, at the Blohm and Voss shipyard along the Elbe River in Hamburg. Nearly a year later after sea trials, she inaugurated her regular run to New York City. From the beginning, the ship was beset by problems, but was still considered the pride of the Hamburg-Amerika Line, a company with rich traditions that was founded in 1847. So, when the Deutschland left Hamburg for the first time on March 27, 1924, she moved slowly down the Elbe River past Blohm und Voss, the massive dockyard where she had been built. At the time of her maiden voyage, the entire city celebrated when the Deutschland headed down the Elbe River towards the North Sea. Other ships in the harbor fittingly saluted her by blowing their deep throaty whistles, as small craft such as tugboats and fireboats pumped frothy white streams of the brackish river water high into the air.

The war was, very obviously, beginning to turn against Germany as the French soldiers gained ground and started to push the retreating Nazi troops in our direction. The news was that if things got worse, the German Army would be pushed over the Vosges Mountains and back into Alsace-Lorraine. We were issued instructions from the local Nazi administration to be prepared to help these retreating soldiers and were expected to billet, feed and, if necessary, nurse those wounded back to health. “Oh my,” I thought. We had so little but it was still more than we had in Mannheim. One village woman told us, “They are our soldiers and we can jolly well care for them.” Adolph agreed with this and told me that it would be my duty to look after any German soldier that was quartered under his roof. I thought that I fully understood what he meant by this! Since I was using the entire upstairs portion of the house, I would have to make room. Looking forward to helping them, I told the girls that we were to be kind to whoever came to us. “Imagine if it was your father.” It seemed the least we could do, and I hoped that I wasn’t expected to go beyond this. Instead of improving, things just got worse. To everyone’s astonishment the school was ordered closed and we were told to attend a meeting in the Village Center. Outside of the center, amidst much commotion, a uniformed Gestapo officer standing on the back of an open truck announced that German troops would be entering our village. Soon Military vehicles and German troops seemed to be everywhere. The Allied invasion of Normandy on June 6, 1944, marked a critical turning point in the European theater of World War II and we were beginning to feel the effects.

In 1960, the United States and the Soviet Union were locked into an idealistically-driven Cold War, pitting the Capitalistic West against the Communistic East. Cuba, unable to be self-sufficient, had to pick a side. With the United States putting economic pressure onto the relatively small country, Castro did the only thing his pride would allow. Voicing disdain for his neighbor to the north, Castro proclaimed that his ideological views paralleled those of the USSR. Meeting with the Soviet Premier Anastas Mikoyan, Castro agreed to provide the USSR with food and sugar, in return for a monetary infusion amounting to a $100 million loan, as well as industrial goods, crude oil and fertilizers. Castro’s first public admission that his revolution was socialistic was during his speech honoring the people killed in the air strikes of April 15, 1961, during the Bay of Pigs operation. The Cuban government then took over all the banks, except two Canadian ones.

In pre-air conditioning days, even a little cooling breeze felt good. On this particular evening the dining room was filled to capacity, as the French Hotel was still one of the best places to eat in Monrovia. The overflow extended out under the cover of the verandah and was also filled with people. With so few places to dine in Monrovia, eating here under the corrugated fiberglass roof was a treat for the expats. I had already eaten aboard ship and was hoping that some of my friends would come around and join me for a few drinks but that evening it didn't happen and I didn’t recognize many people. It did however give me the opportunity to talk to Monique. After some two hours of talking to her between drinks I learned that she came from the Left Bank of Paris. Her parents lived above an antique shop on the Rue de las Halles and were adamantly against her coming to Africa. Because of an argument she had left her boyfriend behind, and now I think was sorry for that, although she wouldn’t admit it. It was obvious that she was homesick and I believe that she thinking about him. Monique couldn’t believe what she got herself into, and now was stuck with a two year contract in this hell hole. She mentioned that although the constant advances from the men was flattering, it was beginning to become wearing. She said that some of the people in Monrovia scared her and I understood exactly what she meant. Just being in Liberia was a challenge…. Was it my imagination, or was I making headway with this dark-haired, French beauty? With each drink I became more convinced of this, and at the same time was feeling less pain. The night was still young and I was in no rush to leave. Surely there was some hope and I was trying my best…. Then, suddenly without warning Monique told me that she had to go. “Je dois y aller maintenant.” What… She’s leaving? I’ve been told that it’s a thing the French do… but leaving me at the bar for no apparent reason? Monique however assured me that her partner, Claudine, would continue serving me and perhaps, “Who knows?” Monique said with a twinkle in her eyes... I shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew what it was that I was angling for. Hell, I thought that I was one of the good guys, besides whom was she sleeping with? A white girl in Liberia would never go it alone…. there had to be someone! What happened that Monique suddenly had to leave? Poof and she was gone! In her stead now was Claudine who was rough around the edges and knew her way around. It never occurred to me that Monique’s shift would be over before the closing hour!

Investigations revealed that two Venezuelan nationals, Freddy Lugo and Hernán Ricardo Lozano, who had been employed by Luis Posada Carriles, planted the bombs that destroyed a Cuban airliner. The men admitted to the crime and confessed that they were acting under Luis Posada’s orders. During the ensuing investigation, explosives, weapons and a radio transmitter were discovered at Posada’s private detective agency, in Venezuela. Posada was arrested and jailed in Venezuela. Freddy Lugo and Hernán Ricardo Lozano were sentenced to 20-year prison terms. It was later learned that Posada was overheard saying, “We are going to hit a Cuban airplane and Orlando has the details.” Posada was tried and while awaiting a verdict escaped from prison once again. Apparently a sizeable bribe was paid to his guards and other authorities making it possible to buy his way out dressed as a priest. Once out he fled from Venezuela to Panama and then to the United States. It was only after his return to the United States and he was assigned to Nicaragua, as a deputy to Félix Rodríguez that his CIA connection became apparent. Félix Rodríguez was the CIA Operative who helped capture “Che” Guevara in the Bolivian highlands. After an investigation of Posada’s background by the press it became apparent that Posada was responsible for 41 bombings during the Contra conflict. By his own admission, he also planned numerous attacks against Cuba. In 1997, it was discovered that Posada was involved in a series of terrorist bombings in Cuba, with the intent of disrupting the country’s fledgling tourist industry.

Most of the cadets accepted an invitation to attend a reception at the Venezuelan Naval Academy in La Guaira. Don Silke and I had other ideas and figured on getting a cab to the capital city of Caracas. The ride would take about a half hour, if the car did not overheat going over the mountain pass on the newly constructed highway. The capital city had an elevation of 7,083 feet and we were at sea level. As we stepped off the gangway, I noticed two stunningly beautiful girls standing on the concrete dock looking at the ship. Neither of us could figure out why the girls were there. Perhaps they were tourists, but I would find out. Approaching them, I asked if we could help, but soon discovered that they didn’t speak English and we didn’t speak what seemed to be French. It could have led to an impasse but my knowledge of German saved the day. It turned out that both girls were from France and one of them came from the Alsace Province and spoke German. They were both quite bubbly and we soon found out that they were dancers with the Folies Bergère, on tour to South America. From what I understood, they would be performing in Caracas that night and could get us free tickets. It all sounded great except that we had to be back aboard by 10:00 p.m., since the ship would be leaving first thing in the morning. Rats! You win some and you lose some, but at least we were with them for now. Don and I offered to take them aboard for lunch. It all seemed exciting for them to board a ship with so many single men. Ooh là là. The girls attracted a lot of attention and the ship’s photographer couldn’t stop taking pictures. The rest of our classmates couldn’t believe what they saw and of course thought that we were luckier than we really were. For us, the illusion had to be enough and fortunately the lunch served that day was reasonably good.

Much of what I write about is something I experienced and the rest can be found in academic books that are footnoted. What is not usually found in academic books is s-x or s-xual situations. We all know that s-x existed in the past but few writers include it in their books but again don’t look for me to footnote any of these happenings but it’s all true or at least fact based!

Never challenge anyone crazier than you. Crazy trumps skill every damn time.

Nico: By the time I drove back home last night, I’d gotten myself under control. I’d reasoned with my hard-on until it finally saw my way. Who knew you could reason with a fucking hard-on. I guess I never tried. I just took care of it, did what it wanted me to.

One hit, one moan of fractured air, one solid impact and the man went down.

On January 8, 1959, Fidel made his grand entrance into Havana. With his son Fidelito at his side, he rode on top of a Sherman tank to Camp Columbia, where he gave the first of his long, rambling, difficult-to-endure speeches. It was broadcast on radio and television for the entire world to witness. For the Cubans it was what they had waited for! During the speech, smiling Castro asked Camilo Cienfuegos, “How am I doing?” and the catch phrase “Voy bien, Camilo” was born. The following Christmas the celebrations were exceptional and made up for the drab Christmas of 1958. There were great expectations on the part of the Cuban people, but most of these expectations would be shattered in the years to come. In the United States, people saw things differently. “Kangaroo trials” of Batista’s followers, ending with their executions, infuriated Americans who couldn’t believe what was happening on what they considered a happy island. Members of the U.S. Congress held formal hearings, interviewing exiled Cubans known as Batistianos. The result was that in the United States, people began to rally against Castro and in Cuba, people saw the United States as presumptuous and overbearing. Eisenhower treated Fidel with contempt and Nixon did not hide the fact that he disliked the Cuban leader. It was this combination of events that led Cuban-American relations into a diplomatic downhill spiral, from which the two countries have just now started to emerge. Without American backing, Cuba turned to Communism and looked to the Soviet Union for support. The results that followed should have been expected and were the consequences of American arrogance and Cuban misplaced pride.

Pier 5 in Brooklyn was within a short walking distance from the subway station and in the distance the masts and funnel of my new ship could be seen. The S/S African Sun was a C-4 cargo ship built in 1942, for the war effort. Not even 15 years old, the ship looked as good as new. Farrell Lines took good care of their ships and it showed. There was always a lot of activity prior to departure and this time was no exception. We were expected to depart prior to dusk and there were things to do. I got into my working uniform and leaving my sea bag on my bunk headed for the bridge. When I passed the open door of the Captain’s room he summoned me in. “Welcome aboard Mr. Mate. I’ve heard good things about you!” We talked briefly about his expectations. Introducing himself as Captain Brian, he seemed friendly enough and I felt that I got off to a good start. As the ship’s Third Officer, most frequently known as the Third Mate, my first order of business was to place my license into the frame alongside those of the other deck officers. I must admit that doing so gave me a certain feeling of pride and belonging. With only an hour to go before our scheduled departure I called the engine room and gave them permission to jack over the engine; a term used to engage the engine, so as to slowly turn the screw or propeller.

Prior to my first voyage at sea, my father advised me to always get to know the cooks. Sometimes I’d step in and wash pots and pans or help lift a heavy case of something. It worked on my first voyage and still did now. Many times I’d help carry boxes of food and store their contents in the pantry. So after dropping a few hints, the cooks did me a favor and put out a box containing milk, butter, cocoa, sugar and flour. This acquisition was for the rich chocolate brownies that Ann would make for me to bring back to the ship. They must have been the most delicious brownies since everyone, including the cooks, expected me to bring them some. When I got to the galley, I could see the box they had prepared for me sitting on a counter, but I was looking through a heavy wire mesh securing the area, and the only access door had one of the big brass government locks on it. For a fleeting moment, I thought that I would not be able to get the precious ingredients that were so near and yet inaccessible, but it didn’t take long for me to figure out that I could climb over the top where a section of the mesh was missing. It took some gymnastics, but I was young and agile enough to get in and out with the box, without leaving any evidence of the entry. When I think of some of the chances I took for the most ridiculous reasons, I’m surprised that I ever made it to graduation, but everyone counted on me to deliver the brownies and I wasn’t about to let them down. I later found out that the cooks purposely left the galley unlocked for me, but then someone on the security watch took it upon themselves to lock it. Who knows?

Reaching over she put her hand on my thigh and asked what I would be doing that evening. I couldn’t believe what was happening. She was hitting on me and if I had any plans, they instantly vanished, as I heard myself say with renewed confidence… “Nicole, my time is your time. You know this island better than I do, do you have any ideas?” The driver took us to the ship where Nicole gave me a long passionate kiss. I now knew where the term “French Kissing” came from. Her passion excited me and I didn’t give a damn that the driver and half the midshipmen on the ship were watching what was happening. I scooped up my gear and the paperwork, telling Nicole that I would meet her at the Consulate at six o’clock. She advised me to ring the bell since they lock up at five o’clock. What she didn’t tell me was that she had a room upstairs in the Consulate next to the one the Consul used.

The Hoboken waterfront was still familiar to me from earlier years when I walked this way to catch the trolley or the electrified Public Service bus home from the Lackawanna Ferry Terminal. Remembering the gray-hulled Liberty Ships being fitted out for the war at these dilapidated piers, was still very much embedded in my memory. Things had not changed all that much, except that the ships that were once here were now at the bottom of the ocean, sold, or nested at one of the “National Defense Reserve Fleets.” Many of them were moved to the Reserve fleet located on the western side of the Hudson River, south of the Bear Mountain Bridge. I vividly recall seeing these nested ships when I accompanied my parents to visit my Uncle Willie and Tante Martha at their home in Towners, New York.

The Liberian flag was fashioned after the American flag by seven women: Susannah Lewis, Matilda Newport, Rachel Johnson, Mary Hunter, Mrs. J. B. Russwurm, Collinette Teage Ellis, and Sarah Draper. On August 24, 1847, the flag was flown for the first time and that date officially became Flag Day in Liberia. The flag is referred to as the “Lone Star.” The resemblance to the American flag reflects the origins of Liberia, being the resettlement country for freed slaves, coming primarily from America. A previous Liberian flag had a white cross in place of the present single star.

The Napoleon of Temperance” or “Father of Prohibition,” activist Neal S. Dow helped to construct the “Maine Law” of 1851, outlawing the use of alcohol for reasons other than mechanical or medicinal purposes. He was the mayor of the city when “The Portland Rum Riot” broke out, leading to the militia shooting into the crowds. One person was killed and seven wounded when the people demanded to know why there was rum stored in the City Hall. Early in the American Civil War, on November 23, 1861, former mayor Dow was commissioned as a Colonel in the 13th Maine Infantry. On April 28th of the following year, he received a commission as Brigadier General in the Union Army. His service included commanding two captured Confederate forts near New Orleans and fighting in the siege of Port Hudson, Louisiana. During this skirmish he was wounded and later captured. General Dow was traded and gained his freedom 8 months later from General William H. F. Lee, the son of Robert E. Lee. Neal S. Dow died on October 2, 1897, and was buried in the Evergreen Cemetery in Portland. His home, the Neal S. Dow house built in 1829, was used as a stop for slaves on the “Maine Underground Railway” and is located at 714 Congress Street in Portland. The historic building is now the home of the Maine Women's Christian Temperance Union.

The purpose is to become the best writer in my category (yes, page for page and pound for pound).

The warrior guided by the spirit serves humanity, the warrior without, serves the ego

We stitched little rugs for the children to lie down on and I painted the small tables and chairs for them. The school fortunately provided all the art material that I needed, so I took advantage of this and decorated everything! My little Ursula loved being in class with me and appeared to be in seventh heaven. One day Herr Erdmann, the Nazi Civil Affairs Supervisor or Ortsgruppenleiter, came on a visitation and inspected my work. Not being familiar with titles I mistakenly addressed him as Mayor or Burgermeister. I knew that he liked me since he readily approved of nearly everything I did and offered to get almost everything I needed. He was short in stature with a baldhead, rosy cheeks, and a large white mustache. Although he was a Nazi autocrat in Bischoffsheim, he had a jolly disposition and was easy to talk to.

What is now Tanzania was once Tanganyika and before that part of British East Africa and prior to that a colony of Germany. During World War I the fighting actually came to the Continent of Africa. Known as the East African Campaign, many of the battles almost went unreported and are little known, however the romance of this war is portrayed by many novels and the well-known movie “African Queen,” starring Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn. The film is a stretch, but strictly speaking it is based on a true story, however even saying this, neither the original novel nor the movie bears more than a passing resemblance to reality. The four years of warfare mostly fought in Europe, cost the lives of hundreds of thousands of people and affected many millions more. The campaigns, skirmishes and battles in Africa, although relatively small, cost the lives of 14 German soldiers with 34 being wounded whereas the British had a total of about 150 casualties. “In actual fact the four years of warfare from 1914 to 1918, cost the lives of hundreds of thousands of people and affected many millions more. The campaigns, skirmishes and battles although relatively small, cost the lives of 14 German troops with 34 being wounded whereas the British had a total of about 150 casualties. An example of the type of battles fought in Africa was the Battle of Bukoba. Here the British objective was the destruction of the Bukoba wireless station on the shore of Lake Victoria, it was decided that the raid should take the form of an amphibious assault by the Loyal North Lancashire Regiment and the 25th Frontier Royal Fusiliers who served in the African Theatre of war around Lake Tanganyika, British East African and German East African territory. Upon reaching the objective at Bukoba, the attackers were mistakenly landed in a large swamp and were pinned down by fierce rifle

When I arrived at the Academy in 1952, I heard the rumor that there were some young ladies in town who would accommodate some of our chosen upperclassmen with their favors. These ladies were known to us as the Bunny, the Fox and the Snork, or Snorkel, for all the obvious reasons. Of course, it was a secret that couldn’t be kept, since the braggarts loved to tell tales of their dubious conquests. We heard detailed and descriptive accounts of how they went up to historic Fort George to meet up with these girls, hoping to get some sexual satisfaction. Of course, we all believed that the stories were true, as they most likely were, but as plebes, called muggs by the upperclassmen, none of us took part in this sport… or did we?

When we passed Camp Johnson, the military compound, I couldn’t believe that I was seeing two bodies suspended from the high security fence near the gate. On Broad Street, which is the main drag in Monrovia, there were streetlights but to my horror they were being used as gallows. Some still had bodies hanging from them, which appeared bloated and badly decomposed. Other bodies were decomposing in the gutters, with runoff water swirling around them. The decaying process doesn’t take long in this tropical heat, and it was obvious from the sickenly smell that permeated the air that they had been dead for a while. The city appeared to be under Martial Law with soldiers assisting the police, directing traffic. Lacking traffic lights each intersection was congested with cars, horn blaring and nobody moving. It was a mess and heavily armed, rag-tag soldiers, were now, everywhere.

When you have butterflies and you’re feeling anxious and you have anxiety or are nervous, that’s when you’re most powerful... A lot of people, instead of honing this power and using it, they allow it to just consume them. There’s another quote that says, ‘A big challenge, a big pressure is like a fire, it’s like a raging fire. Either you can allow this fire to consume you and just take you over completely, or you can gain control of this fire and harness it and you blow it right at your opponent, Dragonball Z style.’ That’s what I’m trying to do, trying to get my emotions under control and use this adrenaline to my advantage.

Where the hell is your guard?" She shouts. Damn if she doesn't sound like Haley. "I'm tired." "Do I look like I care? You're getting the hell pounded out of you. If you want to tap out, then tap out, but don't stand there and let him win.

You do it because you like the creativity, and yet it's logical, like a science. You do it because it's your way of life. You do it because you love it and you can't not do it, because it's who you are." My words clung to the steam around me, leaving whispering trails that echoed far beneath my skin, echoed deep in my bones. "At least, that's why I did it.

You think this is a walk in the park, that it’s all beauty pageants and tea parties? Come on girl, wake up! This is survival at its most intense.

A bad day can tell you more about yourself than a good day.

A black belt doesn't mean anything. The meaning is in the journey.

A black belt only covers two inches of your ass. You have to cover the rest.

After a match, my opponent goes to the hospital and gets an IV and I have a martini.

All I ever wanted to be was a Ninja... Tong from Kickboxer, Sagat from Street Fighter.

A lot of people are like, "What do you do to get pumped up for a fight?" Like, really? You're locked in a cage with someone trying to kill you in front of thousands of people. It's not too hard to get pumped up... You've got to calm everything down, you've got to remind yourself to relax.

Am I nervous? Yeah. Am I scared? Sure. But I do this because I love it.

An injury is not just a process of recovery it's a process of discovery.

A strong person will not be nervous and not express aggression towards his opponent... he will face the fight calm and balanced.

At the end of the day, I'm a human being.

At the end of the day, when two combatants get into the ring and/or cage, it's anybody's game, especially in MMA.

By putting yourself in that intense form of stress, it makes regular life more peaceful.

Champions know that there's something inside that makes a champion, and other people think that it might something external.