#i mean every sane person wants to kill rand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myc-ology-whore · 3 years ago

Note

A angst request. Reagan x reader. The reader is going to be sent to shadow prison for trying to get rid of Rand.

She'll Be Okay

Reagan Ridley x GN!Reader

ooh, i like this one >:) more angst for you guys, this time starring our favourite disgruntled scientist <3 reader is gn btw

another 4k story that i may or may not make a sequel to. the way things are now, however, i feel like i've satisfied the angst that was asked of me.

nsfw: no sexual content, but explicit gore is used.

When Rand took over, everyone was pissed, not just the upper management team. Reagan had just promised everyone so much, and she had intended to make good on all of her promises, but the robot Rand brought into the company had ruined everything, and somehow in the end he was the one to get put in charge? Of course people were angry.

You, however, were by far and away the most angry of all. Reagan was your girlfriend; you knew better than anyone just how abusive Rand was to her growing up, though whenever you'd try to point it out she would just brush it off, saying, "Well, he's still my dad. I can't just kick him to the curb."

And so, you and Rand had simply been at each other's throats at every given opportunity. He said you weren't good enough for Reagan and that you were holding her back from achieving more, and you said that he was an abusive, manipulative parasite who'd never even treated her like a daughter in the first place (only one of you was correct). Reagan tried to ignore it; she understood your anger toward Rand, and she loved you for being hurt and mad in her place, but she couldn't abandon him. She didn't listen to Rand either, thankfully, sticking things out with you and staying at your place more than half of her time in the months leading up to the Bear-O incident. She told herself she could still have you and not betray her father, though of course, that couldn't last forever.

She made the right decision that day after digging through her memories and finding out what Rand did to her, telling him to get lost. You, Reagan, and the rest of the gang had dinner at Reagan's place that night, celebrating the fact that she had finally stood up to Rand. You all helped her to throw his stuff onto the curb, and at the end of the night, after everyone else went home, it was just you and Reagan.

Reagan sighed happily as she locked the front door behind the last of your friends, turning around and leaning back on it as she looked around the now-much-cleaner living room. "It already feels so much better to look at," she said, beaming over at you with tired eyes. "Just knowing that he's gone is... It's so much more of a relief than I thought it'd be."

"I told you so," you laughed, opening your arms to her. "C'mere." She chuckled and obliged you, crossing the room to bury herself in your hold. You both hummed contentedly, enjoying the silence of the house and the warmth of each other, though something scratched painfully at the back of your mind. You kiss the top of her head before quietly addressing her. "Hey, honey?"

"Mhm?"

"What Rand did to you," you start, already feeling her tense up, "you know that it wasn't okay, right?"

She pulled back, looking at you incredulously. "It was utterly fucked up," she corrected, making you smile. She didn't always admit it so easily; this was progress. "Fucking up my memory is a whole new low, even for Rand."

"Good, I'm glad we agree." You touch her cheek softly, and the creases in her brow and forehead fade as she relaxes. "D'you know I would do anything for you?"

Reagan laughs a little, her eyes warm as she reaches up to trace your features in return. "So you say," she answers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. You close your eyes and kiss back, mouth opening and moving against hers lazily. She broke away to look at you once more, looking so happy and at peace. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she says, her voice wistful and filled with meaning. "You've been so patient throughout all of this, even though I was kind of stubborn in getting rid of Rand."

"Well, we haven't quite gotten rid of him yet," you reply, and Reagan frowns in confusion. "I've gotta drive him up to Canada and bury him in the snow before I'll feel satisfied that he's not coming back."

"As much as I'd like to strangle Rand myself, kidnapping and murder would get us put away for life."

"That's only if we get caught," you reminded. Reagan snorts at that, making a grin spread across your face. "I'd do it if you asked. I'm serious."

She rolls her eyes with a smile, giving you another quick peck before stepping away. "You're ridiculous," she chuckled, grabbing your hand and beginning to tug you toward the stairs. "C'mon, I'm tired of talking about that asshole. Let's go get ready for bed."

"Alright, alright," you say, relishing the warmth of her hand in yours.

That night was spent in blissful ignorance of what was to come the next day. When you woke up, Reagan was already out of bed, showered, and dressed, something completely unheard of. She was in such a good mood, better than you'd seen her in what felt like ages; she'd spent the morning putting together a little mini-model of what Cognito 2.0 would look like, and she'd ordered breakfast for the two of you. (She'd tried to cook at first, but ended up burning everything because she got distracted by her little project.) It felt like the end of an era, and seeing Reagan practically bouncing around the house with excitement for her promotion and her plans for Cognito made you feel happy and at ease. You loved seeing her smile so much.

That was why what happened when you got to work was so much worse. You were hanging out in the conference room with the gang, goofing off with Myc and Andre and going out of your way to annoy your friends, when Reagan came in with tears streaming down her face.

"Reagan, what's wrong, honey?" She'd immediately collapsed into you upon entry, dragging you to the ground and clutching onto you like she was about to fall off the face of the earth. She tried to speak, but couldn't talk over her sobbing. As you tried to calm her down, your friends gathered around you, unsure of what was going on.

"Deep breaths, Reagan," Gigi advised gently, crouching down beside you and resting a manicured hand onto Reagan's shoulder. "You've got to take deep breaths. In... and out... in... and out..."

As Gigi continued her breathing exercises to try to calm the hyperventilating Reagan, you looked up to your friends.

"I've never seen her this upset," Andre remarked, concern creasing his brows and forehead.

"Maybe Rand finally offed himself," Myc mused, earning him slaps from both you and Andre. "What? I thought we didn't care about him anymore."

You rolled your eyes, glaring at the mycelian. "Myc, you idiot, why don't you just read her mind and tell us what's going on?"

"Oh shit, you're right." He quickly went to place a flagella onto Reagan's head, the limb glowing pink as he sorted through her thoughts. Within a few seconds, he'd snatched the limb back as though he'd been burnt. "Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me."

"What? What is it?"

"It-- It's Rand," Reagan choked out, coughing as she tried to clear the phlegm from her throat. "He-- He's--"

"Calm down, sweetheart," you said softly, patting her back as she falls into another bout of broken cries. Turning back to Myc, you prompt, "He's what?"

Myc seems to hesitate for a moment. "He... took her position."

"...What?"

The room is silent aside from Reagan's bawling, even Gigi looking up in confusion and disbelief. "He took her position," Myc repeats, his voice small for once as he watches the tears dribble down Reagan's face, the way she's wrinkling your shirt in her fists. "He's the new CEO of Cognito."

No one speaks. For a moment, everything is still, aside from the shuddering gasps and sobs from Reagan. Then, the blood begins to boil in your ears. Your friends start to talk, their faces aghast and outraged, but you can't seem to hear them. All you can hear is a ringing in your head as you process the information that's been given to you.

Rand... He did this to get back at Reagan. He did this to hurt her for thinking she could escape him. You feel Reagan tighten her hold around your ribs, her face squished into your collarbone, and something in you flips like a switch.

I am not okay with this.

Gently, you pry Reagan away from your body. Her eyes are swollen and her nose is runny, cheeks red from the warmth of her tears, but she's still so pretty. You cup her face in both hands, using your thumbs to wipe to wetness from beneath her eyes. She sniffles and coughs again, trying to catch her breath as she looks at you. "What-- What am I supposed to-- to do?"

You smile fondly at her, leaning in the press a kiss to the tip of her nose. "Nothing, sweetheart," you say, running a hand over her head to smooth her ragged hair. "You just stay here, okay?"

"(Y/n)," she blubbers, her lip shaking violently as she tries in vain to regain her composure. "How could he do this to me?"

"I don't know, Reag," you admit, forcing yourself to maintain the smoothness of your features as you look at her, wanting to reassure her. "But hey, you know what?"

"What?"

"I love you so much, honey," you affirm, "and I'm not going to just sit here and do nothing about this."

Gigi nudges you, and you turn to look at her, doing your very best to keep your expression blank. "(Y/n), don't go and do anything crazy, you hear me? We're all just as furious about this as you are, but we have to make a plan before we can go and do something about this."

"For once, I agree," Glenn says from behind her. "As much as I love violence, we've got to make a plan of attack first. If we go in guns ablazin', we're liable to get sent down the tube on sight."

"We've got to get weapons, figure out where he sleeps," Andre surmised, hand on his chin in thought. "Then we can catch him by surprise!"

"Or we could just, y'know, do the easy thing and poison his coffee," Myc suggests.

"You guys, isn't there a way we can figure this out that doesn't include murder? I don't think I'll last very long in prison," Brett chimes in, looking nervous at everyone's plotting. "Why don't we all just calm down and really think about this?"

"Shut up, pretty boy," Myc dismisses, no one else even bothering to acknowledge the idea of not killing Rand. As your friends discuss the situation, you stand up, giving Reagan a pat on the head and straightening your jacket before you begin for the door. Myc notices first, and scuttles after you. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"Figured you, of all people, could figure that one out," you reply, laughing coldly. Though any one of the gang could probably guess where you were headed, none of them could feel the pure, white-hot rage dripping off of you like Myc could. He's never seen you like this, however, and isn't quite sure how to approach the situation.

"It's a bad idea, and you know it," he hisses, looking around as he follows you out of the conference room. "You're gonna get yourself fucked up, bud."

"Maybe," you confirm, striding with a purpose toward the CEO's office. "Then again, maybe not. Maybe I'll tear his fucking head off before anybody can do anything about it."

"Even if you manage that, you're still gonna get fucked by the Shadow Board once he's dead," Myc reasons, his voice growing more hushed and anxious the closer you get to the elevators. "Look, I'm saying this because you're my friend, (Y/n), our friend. Just hold off for a while, yeah? C'mon, let's go back."

He tries to grab onto your arm to halt you, but despite his surprising strength, you're quick to tear yourself from his grasp. "Don't fucking touch me right now, Myc," you snarled as you whipped around, your whole body feeling as though it was on fire from your anger. Myc takes a step back, startled, and though you feel a sudden sense of guilt, you quickly turn and continue down the hallway. You're on a mission, and no one is going to stop you.

"(Y/n), we'll still be here when you come back," Myc calls after you, allowing you to go on without him. Under his breath, he adds solemnly, "If you come back."

You stop only once on your way upstairs, at one of the hidden weaponry stations. Myc had shown you before how to spot their subtle designs, and you were a bit surprised to find such a stash so high up in the building, since most of the offices and labs were underground. You grab the first handgun you see, not really knowing how to use it since you've never really been in contact with a gun, but you figure it out easily enough through what you've seen in movies and video games. You were honestly a little proud at how quickly you managed to pull out the magazine to check that the weapon was loaded, and after that it was only a matter of cocking it, pointing, and shooting. You shoved the gun into your waistband and closed the weaponry station, making a beeline for the CEO's office.

When you arrived and knocked on the door, there came no answer. You wondered if this was a trap, if Rand was prepared for someone to try to assassinate him, but pushed the thought back in your mind and opened the door as quietly as you could. Luckily, it was unlocked, and you stepped carefully into the office before closing the door behind you, not wanting to leave any signs of entry if at all possible. It seemed as though Rand had left, perhaps to use the bathroom or to grab some food. It was almost too convenient.

Still, you couldn't turn back now. Trap or not, you'd leave this office once one of you had a bullet in your chest. You were so fucking done, absolutely fed up, with the way Rand treated Reagan. He'd put her down so many times, made her feel stupid or selfish for trying new things or doing things that separated her from him. He treated her like a pawn, like nothing more than a tool, a weapon to wield, and it infuriated you. He'd made her cry for the last time, if you had anything to say about it. You sat down in the chair in the corner of the room, one that was slightly hidden from view of the doors by a partition; if things went according to your impromptu plan, then by the time Rand noticed you he would already be on the other side of the room and away from the exit, cornered. You didn't doubt some secret exit or defense mechanism was hidden here in the room somewhere, but you were ready to take your chances. You had to do this now, while you were determined and enraged, or else you'd chicken out.

Close to ten minutes after you'd arrived and gotten into position, the doors to the office opened. You sat still, relaxed, as you heard shoes tapping on the tiles, Rand's voice reaching you as he muttered angrily to himself.

"Shit, I left the fucking door unlocked," Rand grumbles out of sight. You hear the jingle of his keys as he shoves them back into his pocket, and watch his shadow against the floor as he straightens his jacket and starts forward into the room. "Gotta remember to start locking things again, now that I'm back in charge."

He pauses in the middle of the room, looking around the office but not behind him yet. "Back in charge," he laughs to himself, clearly satisfied with what he'd done to get here. "Christ, it's good to be home."

He lifts his foot as though he's about to continue onward to his desk, but stops short and lurches forward slightly. Things seem to move in slow motion as he clutches at his stomach; if you were looking at it from another point of view, it might look like he was just feeling nauseous. You were watching very closely, however, watching how the bullet ripped through him and hit the hard wood of the desk, the clean hole in his torso vomiting a mist of red in the bullet's wake.

All you can hear is that ringing in your ears as Rand doubles over, hunching forward at a right angle before bending at the knee and falling down. He rolls onto his side, and you see his mouth moving as though he's screaming, agony painted across his features, but you can't hear him. You cross the room slowly, the gun still clutched tightly in your hand, your knuckles white. Rand sees you, and though his wound is bleeding profusely, he lets it go to try to scramble away from you.

"Stop moving," you command, your voice not quite sounding like you as you pointed the gun at him again. He yelps at the gesture and raises his hands in surrender, his eyes shut tight.

"Don't, please," he begs, his voice finally reaching your ears. It's raw, as though his vocal chords have been torn, and tears bead at the corners of his eyes. Still, he tries to maintain his cockiness as you loom over him. "Y-You've fucked up big time, kid," he says, chuckling through gritted teeth. "You can still... still fix this, though. If you help me get to that button over there, I'll... I'll make sure you don't die when security comes to get you."

He gestures to a red button on the back wall, but you don't even glance up at it. "You're going to die," you inform him, watching as his strained smile twitches. "I'm going to shoot you in the head, and you're not going to be standing up again, I'm afraid."

Rand's face pales as he realises just how powerless he is in this situation, and you can't help the small smile that begins to twist your lips. He deserves this, you think, not a doubt in your mind.

"C-C'mon, kid, you don't have to do this," Rand said uneasily, his gaze flicking between your face and the gun. He tries to push himself up on one arm, raising the other in a halting motion as he backs up against the CEO's desk. "D'you think Reagan would still wanna be with you if... if you killed her old man? Think of how... broken she would be, knowing the jackass she kept around blew her dad's brains out. She'd hate you."

You snort involuntarily, covering your mouth with your free hand as you try to stifle your laughter. "Hate me? For killing you? My god, man, how out of touch with reality are you?" You adjust the gun in your grip and squat down beside the frail-looking bag of blood and bones wasting away on the floor, being careful to keep your aim trained on his head at all times. "I'm doing the world a favour right now, Rand," you sneered, bouncing slightly on your heels. "You're a fucking waste of space, and I think you know that."

He's shaking, his lips trembling as he tries to find something to say but fails. He grabs at the hole above his hip again, hissing in pain as he attempts to stop the bleeding.

"That's not gonna work, stupid," you scoff, slamming the side of your gun across his face. He groans, eyes squeezing shut again as you stun him. You briefly think of how good it felt to do that, but push the thought of repeating the action away. You weren't a sociopath like him, and you wouldn't be reduced to one out of anger towards him. His hazy gaze meets your own once more, and you realise you shouldn't be drawing this out at all. You stand, straightening yourself out. "I think it's time we cut to the chase. Don't you think so, Rand?"

"Please," he implores, his face scrunching up in discomfort as he knits his fingers together in a begging motion. "I'll... I'll give you whatever you want, just, please, don't--"

He's cut off by another thunderous bang, this one splitting his skull and blowing a hole straight through his frontal lobe and into the desk he sits up against. Bits of brain and blood splatter onto the wood and tile around him, and a sense of pride makes your chest swell.

Now he was gone, and only now was it over.

Heavy footsteps thud against the floor somewhere nearby, and you set the gun down onto the desk. You couldn't take your eyes off of Rand's face; aside from a small, jagged circle in the middle of his forehead, he looks almost exactly as he had a few moments ago. However, you knew by the amount of gore surrounding his head that the exit wound had been much less contained. Silently, you thought to yourself how a shotgun would have been a much more fitting murder weapon for a monster of a man like Randall Ridley.

"Holy shit," said someone from behind you, and you turn wordlessly to see two armed security guards in the doorway. The man who spoke tears his eyes from Rand's body to meet yours, and immediately he aims his gun at you. "P-Put your hands where I can see 'em, kid," he quavered, clearly unprepared to deal with this situation. "Hands up, now!"

He was scared, and fear made people more dangerous, more unpredictable. You'd already accepted the terms and conditions in this contract, however, and so you simply smiled and raised your hands in surrender. "The gun is on the table there," you advised, gesturing to the desk. "Don't worry, I'm unarmed. I'll come quietly."

"R-Right," the security guard replied uncertainly, looking you over as though you might explode if he stepped any closer. He turned to his partner, who remained gawking at the corpse lying haphazardly on the floor. "Brady, come on, man," the guard blurted, startling his partner so badly that he almost dropped his gun. "Go on! Go and, uh, disable 'em, I suppose."

"Yes sir," the second man answered, stepping cautiously toward you. You gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, but it was obvious that it only served to disturb him. "Hands behind your back, p-please," he stumbled, walking around you like you were a dangerous animal. You did as instructed, and the guard wrapped a pair of handcuffs around your wrists with shaky hands.

"Right, bring 'em here," the first man said, beckoning the other forward. You felt the second man grip your arm securely, and then you were being led forward, stopping right in front of the more commanding guard. "I suppose I don't have to ask why you did what you did," he reckoned, looking back at Rand. "Guess you had more problems with him than most, eh? That, or you just had less to lose or more to gain than the rest of us."

"It needed to be done," you explain simply. "It was as necessary as putting down a decrepit old dog, I assure you."

The man chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "Can't argue with that logic. Unfortunately, we're going to have to put you in a holding cell, either until we've got a new boss or until the Shadow Board figures out what to do with you. I'm... sorry."

You can't help a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Apologising for arresting a murderer? What has this world come to?"

"I suppose you're right," the man replies. Holding one of the glass double doors open, he gestures into the hallway. "Brady, come on."

The second guard jumps and nods quickly, pushing you forward once again. As the door shuts behind you, you find yourself looking back at Rand's unmoving body, and a soft smile etches itself into your face. She'll be okay, now that he's gone.

She'll be okay.

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neuxue · 5 years ago

Text

Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 50

Chapter 50: Veins of Gold

The chapter many of you have been waiting for, I presume

That chapter title.

Rand��s hardly even thought of the bonds to Elayne and Min and Aviendha this book; he can’t even feel his own emotions, so feeling anyone else’s is more or less out of the question…and then this. A reference that, though the quote it’s referencing was several books ago, is unmistakeable.

I’m ready.

Wind blew around Rand as he sat at the top of the world.

A wind rose…

Wind and the Dragon Reborn, here on Dragonmount, the place of beginnings and endings. This is not the ending, nor is it the beginning, but it is a beginning. An ending. And so the wind is here, to carry whatever is to come across the land.

The whole image—Rand sitting alone, silent, unmoving, on the highest peak of a broken mountain, surrounded by snow and volcanic fire, up here above the world, apart from it and yet always and inextricably a part of it—is just excellent.

What was he? What was the Dragon Reborn?

Are you repeating yourself, or are those actually separate questions? And it’s notable that he asks ‘what’, rather than ‘who’. “I don’t know how human the Dragon Reborn can afford to be”…but he is human, and that’s so much of the point.

A symbol? A sacrifice? A sword, meant to destroy? A sheltering hand, meant to protect?

A puppet, playing a part over and over again?

It’s that last question that’s the hardest, in a way; the others he can deal with, so long as they are his choice. But for so long, he hasn’t really felt that it is; it’s been a case of a role he has to play. He must save the world for there is no one else. And if he does? What reward is there, but getting to do it again and again and again for all of time?

Even without that, though…ah, Rand. I feel like there’s little I can really say without repeating things I’ve said a thousand times before, because I’ve asked these questions on his behalf, but this is the first time—or at least the first time in a very long time—that we’ve seen him face them directly, rather than shoving them away along with all his feelings and pain.

What is it, really, that is being asked of him? What is he meant to be?

Which all leads, ultimately, to the question of and why should he do it?

Why accept that role, that brings him so much pain?

He was angry.

And yet, even that admission is a victory. It’s something other than the icy cold he’s tried to envelop himself in, something other than the eerie calm with which he annihilated a fortress. He’s angry, and really he has every right to be. It’s okay, sometimes, to rage at the world that has asked everything of you. It’s human.

What right did any of them have to demand Rand’s life of him?

Well, Rand had offered that life to them.

Oh.

That’s…oh, Rand. That’s exactly the sort of semantic twisting of the knife I cannot ever get enough of. They demand his life, and so he offers it to them, for once this is over he will have no more use for it. They demand his life, and so he relinquishes it. They demand his life, so he gives it up, along with his self; those no longer belong to him (he belongs to the Pattern now, and to history).

But Rand, the demand is your life. Your life, not your death. Those are not, I think, the same in this case.

It had taken him a great while to accept his death, but he had made his peace. Wasn’t that enough? Did he have to be in pain until the end?

Sometimes I remember how young he is.

And lines like this hurt.

(Also, Gethsemane came up in conversation between last chapter and this, and…well).

He has given so much, because that’s all he can think to do. So much has been asked of him, and so he strips away pieces of himself until his offering equals the weight of the task, and he is left with nothing. But just as giving his life is not the same as giving his death, leaving himself nothingness, emptiness, void, is not the same as making his peace.

He’s just had to convince himself it is, because what more can he do?

He had thought that if he made himself hard enough, it would take away the pain. If he couldn’t feel, then he couldn’t hurt.

(Is that last verb transitive, or intransitive, Rand?)

There’s a part of me that wants to speculate on whether Rand’s thoughts are so directly phrased here, so clearly stated, because it’s Sanderson at the helm and that’s more his style…but you know what? I actually don’t really care, because, at least for me, it works. This is Rand finally, here at the end of all things, at the edge of the world and at both extremes of his life (lives), having to face himself. Walls stripped away, nothing to do but to stare at an image of his own power and look at what he has become. Nowhere left to run, nothing left to hide behind, no battles or politics directly in front of him to demand his focus and distract him. He is standing on his grave and his birthplace, pushed twice now to a point he cannot make himself cross, pushed to a point of crisis, and the last thing standing there to confront him is himself.

And so of course those thoughts that were vague or not even stated at all suddenly come to the forefront, everything else falling away. Of course he asks himself these questions he has so long avoided. There is nowhere else for him to turn. And so this is his moment to stop and look and think and question.

He’s asking what, but it’s a step, I think, towards asking himself why.

If he couldn’t feel, then he couldn’t hurt.

The wounds in his side pulsed in agony.

Well, that tells you everything you need to know about his choice of numbing agent, really.

(See a doctor to find out if apathy is right for you…)

(I’m so sorry).

He understood what would be required of him

Still on the ‘what’ though. It’s much harder to bear if you don’t have a reason why.

What man could do these things and remain sane?

I mean…yeah. Especially with the whole world waiting with baited breath for him to go mad.

It’s easy enough to shout at a fictional character to get your shit together and remember what you’re fighting for and save the world…but also, he has been dealt an utterly shit hand. Sure, I think he needs to reach a point where he doesn’t just resign himself to his role or even accept it but genuinely embraces it, not just as a painful necessity but as something he has true reason to be doing…but also, how the hell does a person get there, having gone through what he has, and with the burden he carries?

And now, without even that small voice in his mind telling him that something is wrong, he’s…afraid of himself, of what he might do. And yet, without that, what’s to stop him from doing all the things he’s afraid of?

It was midday, though the sun still lay hidden behind the clouds.

One with the land, etcetera.

“And what if I don’t want the Pattern to continue?” he bellowed.

That’s a terrifying question to hear him voice, and yet, in a weird way, it’s…a version of the precise one he needs to be asking: why is he doing this at all?

Everything, in a sense, depends on him being able to answer that question. Because…if he doesn’t want the Pattern to continue, then there truly is no point in what he is doing. Then all the pain he has endured and all the pain he has caused has been pointless, and thus he is damned for having caused it, for it serves no purpose but to hurt.

But if he can answer that, if he can find a reason to want the Pattern to continue…then he has something to fight for. Then that pain is not meaningless, and then the destruction is just the other side of a coin that also carries salvation, and then he can face what is to come with his entire self, and fight to save something, rather than just fighting to die.

“We live the same lives!” he yelled at them. “Over and over and over. We make the same mistakes. Kingdoms do the same stupid things. Rulers fail their people time and time again. Men continue to hurt and hate and die and kill!”

There it is: the crux of the matter. Why fight to keep the Pattern continuing, if it’s just the same thing over and over, the same mistakes, the same pain.

But is it? Could you not turn every part of that statement around? The same lives over and over, but different each time. Mistakes, yes, but are they the same ones? Or just different variations on them, learning each time? People hurt and hate and die and kill but if Min were here she would speak of balance: for every terrible accident, some great twist of luck. For each death, life. Hurt and hate and die and kill but also heal and love and live and save.

And so it’s a duality again, if only Rand can see it. But he has fallen so far to one side, has been hurting so much and for so long, and has lost sight of his cause, and so all he can see right now is the darkness, the despair, the pointlessness of it all. Why continue, when victory just condemns him—condemns them all—to the same fate, over and over? He nearly repeated Lews Therin’s actions (‘What am I doing?’ ‘No more than I’ve done before’), and he has feared for so long that his past life will define his present one, and has fought against those chains, convinced that the chains exist.

“What if I think it’s all meaningless?” he demanded

Then I think you and Moridin—or Elan Morin Tedronai—have something in common.

Of course, that was the point, was it not? ‘He must know pain of heart…’

“What if I don’t want it to keep turning? We live our lives by the blood of others! And those others become forgotten. What good is it if everything we know will fade? Great deeds or great tragedies, neither means anything! They will become legends, then those legends will be forgotten, then it will all start over again!”

It’s…some of it, I think, is the influence of having Moridin in his head. But I think the reason those thoughts can so easily become his own is because he’s still trying to shelter in apathy, still clinging to that armour of ice and cuendillar, in order to stop it from hurting so much. And that level of apathy leads so easily to this kind of outright nihilism—if nothing matters because he has already gone too far, and he feels nothing, and he must die simply because it is demanded of him and therefore nothing he does and no part of the remainder of his life truly means anything, and this is just preordained and required of him and so damning but also not his fault, if victory is hollow because all that matters is the winning and not the why, if there is no hope because hope is too painful when it fails, if there is no drive to save because that only makes it worse when he must destroy…then what is the point of any of it? Is it not easier to just let it end?

He has reached that point for himself—that it would be easier to die, that it would hurt less, that it would or will be a relief—and the Dragon is one with the land, and so it was only a matter of time until that reasoning reached the whole of the world, of existence. It would be easier for it to stop, because then there could be no more pain. No more mistakes, no more sacrifices. No more great deeds that are forgotten. No more endless cycles of death and pain and suffering.

Pain or apathy: those are the only choices remaining to him, that he can see. He has lost sight of the third, of the one that stands on the other side of the balance.

And again, how could he not? How could he hurt so much and for so long and not be so caught up in pain and avoiding it that he forgets what it means to fight for something that is not just the absence of it.

But there is another side to it. Great deeds and tragedies will become legends, and yes, in time they will be forgotten and it will begin again, but each time it is different. Rand is Lews Therin reborn but he is not Lews Therin. And he will make mistakes, but maybe they will be different ones. And maybe in some cycle, he or someone else will get it right. Or maybe not…but if the world ceases to exist, then there isn’t even that smallest bit of hope. Because if it starts all over again, well, at least there’s a chance.

Only, hope is anathema to him right now, because that way lies pain.

(Ishamael was well named, I think).

(I feel like I’m describing how I think of him, as much as I’m describing Rand at this point).

(Which says something, both about me and about where Rand is at right now).

It’s also harder for Rand because he does remember a past life, and it seems there’s a good reason most people don’t. Rand can remember that life, now, and so he starts to see the shape of the Ages, the passage of time, the way deeds become stories, and legend fades to myth. But mostly that’s meant to be forgotten, because each new life is just that: a new one. A life not chained to what has come before, but just a chance to play out a new variation, unfettered by past mistakes.

The access key began to glow in his hands. The clouds above seemed to grow darker.

Light in his hands, but the kind of light that darkens the world. I love all the imagery in the last…okay, well, twelve books, but.

He felt himself alight with the Power, like a sun to the world below.

Oh, damn. That um. Is an image. And a description.

Except the sun is hidden by clouds, and the sky is darkening. Brightness and light and yet it is destruction, nothingness, annihilation.

“NONE OF THIS MATTERS!”

Oh, Rand.

It’s too much. He’s been pushed too far and he hurts too much and he’s done too much to forgive himself, and so the only comfort he can find is in the ultimate destination of apathy. In deciding that none of it matters. And yet there’s such an undertone of unendurable agony in this, in watching this boy stand on the mountain that has defined his life and fill himself with power and rage at the world that has done this to him, but even anger can’t help him now so instead it’s this absolute despair that manifests as…this. But it is despair. This is Rand ready to give up, truly, for the first time in the series.

Because he can’t see a way forward, and more than that he can’t see a reason to find one.

He has tried. He has tried so hard, and finally it’s too much, and he’s gone as far as he can, and still he can’t see any sort of light at the end of it, and yes he’s burning with power and shouting at the entire world but it carries the same kind of feeling, almost, as if he had broken down weeping.

This is the point where he looks at the world, and looks at his task, and says ‘I can’t do it’.

This is the point where he breaks.

He knew that much power would destroy him. He had stopped caring. Fury that had been building in him for years finally boiled free, unleashed at long last. He spread his arms out wide, access key in his hand. Lews Therin had been right to kill himself and create Dragonmount. Only he hadn’t gone far enough.

That last sentence. It’s…not surprising, given everything Rand’s been thinking and saying up until now. But it’s still…uh. Terrifying and painful and we’re standing on a knife’s edge about to tip to the Shadow’s victory.

This is, in a weird kind of way, a temptation scene.

The winds began to whip at him, spinning, enormous clouds above twisting upon themselves

As if the wind—which I’ve always linked in my head to some kind of symbolic embodiment of Rand or the concept of the Dragon or even the Pattern itself—is trying to push back at him, to pull him back to himself.

But also...’I am the storm’

Lews Therin had made a mistake.

Just the one?

He had died, but had left the world alive, wounded, limping forward. He’d let the Wheel of Time keep turning, rotating, rotting, and bringing him back around again. He could not escape it. Not without ending everything.

Everything about this is awful and hurts but, you know, in the good way. And also feels just so very, very Moridin-Ishamael-Tedronai, and also just like despair (and you wonder which came first, Elan Morin’s betrayal of hope or hope’s betrayal of him, and now Rand is facing that point as well and I’m fine this is all fine).

Not without ending everything. I just…wow.

The terrifying thing, of course, is that he could.

The hero of the story, standing on a precipice, a heartbeat away from ending existence itself out of despair.

This is what I signed up for.

Not for him to go through with it, really, but just to watch a character dragged to this point. Gradually, over the course of twelve books, in a way where every step feels so natural, so easy, just a little further than the last. Until you end up here, too far gone and with nowhere left to go, past the point of forgiveness and past any kind of hope and broken and at last unable to go on and, without ever turning, without ever changing sides, without any kind of dramatic hero-to-villain kind of moment, still standing ready to become death, destroyer of worlds. Without ever turning from the light.

“Why?” Rand whispered to the twisting winds around him.

YES!!! THAT’S IT THAT’S THE QUESTION THAT’S WHAT IT ALL COMES DOWN TO.

And finally, finally, here just moments from the—an—ending, he asks it.

All the rest falls away and what is left is ‘why?’

And he asks it of the winds. *Claws hands down face and makes pained but delighted wailing noises*

“Why do we have to do this again?” he whispered. “I have already failed. She is dead by my hand. Why must you make me live it again?”

Because it’s not a punishment. Because past failure does not chain you to failure forever. It’s not a condemnation, it’s not being forced to live it again—it’s getting to live it again, to try again.

And…did he fail, really? Yes, Lews Therin ended in tragedy, but he also sealed the Dark One away for a time, and bought the world…well, a bit more time.

Why? Why must they do this over and over? The world could give him no answers.

It’s not the world that needs to answer that question, though. It’s Rand. The world demands his sacrifice, the world demands his life, the world demands…but ultimately, he has to choose. Has to choose whether to fight, and what to give, and, finally, why. If he lets the world answer that question for him, the he is back where he started: chained to a duty thrust on him by the world, and his own choice—his own self—is meaningless.

Rand raised his arms high, a conduit of power and energy. An incarnation of death and destruction. He would end it. End it all and let men rest, finally, from their suffering.

But also extinguish any chance they might ever have of…anything. Succeeding. Living. He would take away even the existence of choice, for it has been taken from him; he’ll make a final choice for the world and all of existence.

Following in Lews Therin’s footsteps, but not stopping the destruction at just all those he loved. No, he’ll repeat the ending he so feared, and take it a step further. Oh Rand.

Stop them from having to live over and over again. Why? Why had the Creator done this to them? Why?

Why do we live again? Lews Therin asked, suddenly. His voice was crisp and distinct.

Oh.

Lews Therin’s voice is distinct now because the…transition? Switch? Shift? Is…complete, in a way. At least that’s where I go with this. Rand has pushed away that last part of himself, that smallest of voices that whispered that something was wrong. That last remnant of who he was. He’s pushed that across this barrier, along with everything else that was once the shepherd named Rand al’Thor, keeping instead Lews Therin’s memories and knowledge. Pushing away his early optimism and hope and keeping instead coldness, hardness. Pushing away a desire to live and keeping a desire to die.

And so now, when Rand is about to ‘become’ Lews Therin, standing atop Dragonmount and drawing in power ready to destroy himself and everything around him…of course ‘Lews Therin’s’ voice is clear. Because that’s what ‘Rand’ has become.

Yes, Rand said, pleading. Tell me. Why?

Even now, ready to destroy everything, he is pleading. Still searching for an answer, still…hoping. Desperate to understand, desperate, I think, to find a reason that makes it not meaningless. Because for all his efforts at apathy, for all his lost hope, I think he still doesn’t want it to be. That’s why this scene hurts so much: because everything Rand is seems to fight against this point he has come to, and yet he can’t…find a way out of it. But even now, as he’s about to destroy the world, he grasps at the possibility of an answer, desperate, hoping.

Maybe…Lews Therin said, shockingly lucid, not a hint of madness to him. He spoke softly, reverently. Why? Could it be…Maybe it’s so that we can have a second chance.

ASLERKASLEIATHOWERIAJE

YES

YES YES YES!

THAT’S IT THAT’S IT THAT’S IT

I’VE BEEN

WAITING

He asks why AND THEN HE ANSWERS.

And the voices are divided but…it’s like last chapter, when the dialogue tags merged and it was just…Rand.

It’s the same here; he’s calling it Lews Therin’s voice but at this point, the parts of himself—of himself and his past life—that are on each side of that barrier have shifted so much that it’s almost meaningless to give them names; it’s just…him.

Rand asks why, desperate. And Rand, finally, out of the depths of who he was before, finds an answer.

And I love that it’s Rand who stops himself. Interrupts himself just as he’s about to erase existence, and tries to answer the question he had been shouting to the sky. It’s not someone else stepping in, not even the remembrance of someone else’s voice. Not even the bonds the chapter title hints at.

It’s just Rand—via the part of him that speaks with Lews Therin’s voice, yes, but Rand just the same.

Because this is his fight against himself. He has pushed through so many things, and this is the end of that path, and the last thing he confronts is not an enemy, not a battlefield, not an ally trying to help or manipulate him, but himself. Just himself.

So much of what has led him here has been a battle against himself, and against his past. Against having to accept that as a part of him. And so of course he and Lews Therin have essentially ‘switched places’ in his mind at this point. And of course it’s the part of him that feels like his old self, speaking to who he has become in Lews Therin’s voice, that calls him back. It’s a mirroring and an inversion but also a closing of the circle. Lews Therin brought him here, and he has come so close to becoming Lews Therin and repeating that fate, and so it is the other part of himself, the part of himself that’s just a shepherd named Rand al’Thor, the part he has locked away, that speaks to him now.

And gives an answer.

But also, the chapter title sort of underlies this; it is just Rand here on this mountain, and it is Rand’s struggle and Rand’s realisation, but there’s that reminder of the ‘veins of gold’, of the bonds and love and people who have cared for him, who love him and anchor him. They’re not here, and so far they’re not even mentioned, but they don’t have to be. It’s not specifically about them, but it’s as if we’re given that chapter title as a…reminder, almost in the way those bonds, those veins of gold, still exist in Rand’s mind as a reminder, even if he is not specifically thinking of them either.

But just.

A SECOND CHANCE. THIS IS THE MOMENT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR.

I have ASKED THIS QUESTION so many times—why are you fighting, Rand—and he’s ANSWERING IT and it’s the answer I was hoping for and it’s…perfect.

He’s not fighting for ultimate victory, or a perfect world. He’s just fighting so that existence can continue, because then there’s a chance. Maybe it will be mistake after mistake. Maybe he’ll fail sometimes. But there’s a second chance. Living again isn’t a punishment, it’s another chance to try again.

You may not have a choice about which duties are given you, Tam’s voice, just a memory, said in his mind. But you can choose why you fulfil them. Why, Rand? Why do you go to battle? What is the point? Why?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

This is, almost word for word, everything I wanted from this scene.

For Rand to ask himself these questions.

And for him to answer.

This is where the darkest moment becomes a turning point, becomes an epiphany. And it’s one he’s been moving towards almost since the series began. For so long he’s been losing sight of why he’s fighting and I have hoped it would come to something like this, and so for him to actually just…ask himself that exact question, and answer it…

You know, sometimes a major moment in a character’s story going exactly the way you hoped, and tentatively predicted, is infinitely more satisfying than if instead it had gone in a completely unexpected direction for the sake of shocking the audience with ‘a twist no one saw coming’. This? Is one of those moments.

Because this is…how this scene has to play out. This is Rand’s fight against himself, and he is here on the mountain his story was always heading for, because time is a wheel and this is where his life ended and began, and he has been driven here in this war that has been against himself as much as any enemy…and so he has to confront that, driven to this point of crisis, before he can move on. This is the end of the road unless he can find a way to do that, and so it has to come down to those questions, and to finding an answer. To discovering, or perhaps rediscovering, why he is fighting. Because that will give him the strength to go on, rather than ending it all.

All was still. Even with the tempest, the winds, the crashes of thunder. All was still.

This is absolutely lovely.

Why? Rand thought with wonder. Because each time we live, we get to love again.

That was the answer. It all swept over him, lives lived, mistakes made, love changed everything.

Okay, I have to say I like the ‘second chance’ version a little better than the ‘love is the answer’ version but that’s okay. It’s all part of the same realisation.

He remembered lives, hundreds of them, thousands of them, stretching to infinity. He remembered love, and peace, and joy, and hope.

When before, all he could see was ‘people hurt and hate and die and kill’. This is the flipside, and he can see that at last.

(Though…okay, listen, I’m me, so just…indulge me for a second here as I pause to savour the pain of realising that, for Moridin-Ishamael-Elan Morin Tedronai, that flipside never came. He’s talked about seeing across time, across turnings of the Wheel…but all he sees is that despair. And for him, that’s where it stops, and so he is, forever, at that point of pain and despair and wondering why they must do this again and again, and so, if his thoughts follow the same pattern Rand’s just did, wishing simply for it to end…)

Within that moment, suddenly something amazing occurred to him. If I live again, then she might as well!

Second chances. He’s been so focused on Ilyena’s death, on the condemnation it brings him, and as Rand has sort of…extended that, with his list of dead ladies, and now again he’s seeing the other side of that coin. She died—and he died, both at his hand—but he lives again, and so might she, and so might so many others, and they have another chance, another try.

The reverse of ‘living again and again is a punishment because it’s just the same failures and mistakes’ is ‘living again and again means that there can be forgiveness for mistakes that were made in the past, because we have another chance to do something different’. It’s an open door for redemption; he does not have to be condemned by the actions of his past self, nor is he bound to repeat them.

I fight because last time, I failed. I fight because I want to fix what I did wrong. I want to do it right this time.

YES! THAT! It’s not a condemnation or a sentence; it’s a redemption arc that stretches across lifetimes, and that he only sees as such now, when he can see those lives played out in front of him.

And as someone who loves a good redemption arc, let me just say, this is some good shit.

The Power within him reached a crescendo, and he turned it upon itself, drove it through the access key. […]

Rand used its own power upon it, crushing the distant globe, shattering it as if in the grip of a giant’s hands.

The Choedan Kal exploded.

The Power winked out.

The tempest ended.

On the verge of making Lews Therin’s final choice, he makes a different one. Because he has been given a second chance, and he sees that now, and so he takes it. Redirects that immense power, destroying not himself or the world or those he loves, but something dangerous.

It's a temptation scene, and he turns away.

And the storm ends. ‘I am the storm’, he said, several books ago, giving himself to anger and destruction, becoming what he thought he had to be, becoming something that would destroy himself and the world.

But now he turns that on itself and the storm ends.

I’m just so very here for all the wind and storm metaphors, and this one works so well.

The tempest ended. A wind rose. I just. YES.

And Rand opened his eyes for the first time in a very long while.

Y E S.

Because he’s Rand again. And because he can see again, now—can see what it is he’s fighting for, can see his goal.

He knew—somehow—that he would never again hear Lews Therin’s voice in his head. For they were not to men, and never had been.

Y E S ! ! !

ALL THE THINGS I WANTED. ALL AT ONCE. Rand asking himself why. Rand answering. Rand understanding what he is fighting for: a second chance, love, hope. And now…acceptance of Lews Therin as a part of himself.

An end, at long last, to that battle against himself. To holding parts of himself apart, dividing himself in two, fighting himself just as he was fighting the world.

Because now that he has asked the question and given the answer, now that he understands that each life is another chance, and that the failures of his past do not define his future, there is no need to fight who he is.

That separation, that voice, served its last purpose—his last moment of being divided against himself was when he called himself back from the brink.

The clouds above had finally broken, if only just above him.

IT’S NOT SUBTLE AND I DON’T EVEN CARE. The tempest ended, the storm has broken, the sun shines again, let there be light, GIVE IT ALL TO ME.

Rand looked up at it. Then he smiled. Finally, he let out a deep-throated laugh, true and pure.

It had been far too long.

LAUGHTER AND TEARS

ON DRAGONMOUNT.

LAUGHTER AND TEARS AND A REASON WHY AND AN ACCEPTANCE OF HIMSELF AND A DISCOVERY OF PURPOSE AND A REALISATION AND A TURNING POINT AND

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Next (TGS epilogue) Previous (TGS ch 49)

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Tractors Quotes

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• All middle-class novels are about the trials of three, all upper-class novels about mass fornication, all revolutionary novels about a bad man turned good by a tractor. – Christina Stead • Art is no longer snobbish or cowardly. It teaches peasants to use tractors, gives lyrics to young soldiers, designs textiles for factory women’s dresses, writes burlesque for factory theatres, does a hundred other useful tasks. Art is as usueful as bread. – Azar Nafisi

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Tractor', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_tractor').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_tractor img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Cows provide approx 100 million tonnes of dry dung a year costing Rs 5000 crores which saves 50 million tonnes of firewood which again means that many trees saved and more environmental damage prevented. It is calculated that if these 73 million animals were to be replaced, we would need 7.3 million tractors at the cost of 2.5 lac each which would amount to an investment of 180,000 crores. In addition 2 crore, 37 lakh and 50 thousand tonnes of diesel which would mean another 57,000 crore rupees. This is how much we owe these animals, and this is what we stand to lose by killing them. – Maneka Gandhi • Happiness is the twinkle in your grandmother’s eye as you reverse the tractor off her legs. – Hugh Laurie • He (David Beckham) does have a huge one, though. He does. You can see it in the advert. It is all his. It is like a tractor exhaust pipe! – Victoria Beckham • His herding instinct is so strong that he confuses tractors on a baseball field for sheep. He was hospitalized twice. Once by a line drive and once for attacking a tractor tread. – Tom Hayden • How much courage does it take to fire up your tractor and plow under a crop you spent six or seven years growing? How much courage to go on and do that after you’ve spent all that time finding out how to prepare the soil and when to plant and how much to water and when to reap? How much to just say, “I have to quit these peas. Peas are no good for me, I better try corn or beans. – Stephen King • I bought an ant farm. I don’t know where I am going to get a tractor that small! – Steven Wright • I buy a tractor two years ago, and four-fifths of the tractor manual is about not tipping over, not raising the bucket high enough to hit high-tension wire… not killing yourself, basically. And in that manual, I found out – and it cost me a thousand dollars – that when the tractor is new, 10 hours into use of the tractor, you have to re-torque the lug nuts. If you don’t, you will oval the holes. This is buried between the moron warnings. I never found it. I take the tractor in for its regular servicing, and they say my wheels are gone. How am I supposed to know that? “It’s in the manual.” – P. J. O’Rourke • I can’t write on the road. I have to be home. I have to be around all those rusted tractors and dilapidated fences and things like that, because it just grounds me in a way that I can’t find in a hotel room. – John Fullbright • I did as much as I could: raising chickens, pushing an ice-cream cart, bagging walnuts, driving a tractor on a beet farm, working on the railroad. I think this eclectic career helped me a lot in life. – Charles R. Schwab • I didn’t get much peace, but I heard in Norway that Russia might well become a huge market for tractors soon. – Henry Ford • I do not like football, which I think of as a game in which two tractors approach each other from opposite directions and collide. Besides, I have contempt for a game in which players have to wear so much equipment. Men play basketball in their underwear, which seems just right to me. – Anna Quindlen • I don’t know of a better argument in favor of farming with horses than trying to start an old tractor in the winter time. – Gene Logsdon • I dont know how the other senators see me. I hope they see me as a farmer. Thats really what I am. But I dont think they see me on a tractor or fixing equipment. I hope they see me grounded, as somebody who has common sense.- Jon Tester • I drove a tractor almost as soon as I could reach the pedals. – Sheri L. Dew • I had no idea ‘Big Green Tractor’ was going to be as big a hit as it was. You just can’t predict those things. – Jason Aldean • I had to jump on the tractor and do my chores. I would have just killed to be in town, to be able to Rollerblade hand-in-hand with somebody I had a crush on. I just wanted to get off the farm, to find my outlet. – Garrett Hedlund • I have a 60-acre farm in North Carolina, and I have a tractor and a farmhouse. As soon as I groom the land, I want to put cabins around and have a place where people can write and hang out. It’ll be either that or an all-black nudist colony. – Zach Galifianakis • I haven’t seen a tractor working all day. The country has gone sane and got back to horses. Farmers all look worse, but they feel better. – Will Rogers • I remember driving the tractor on our farm, and Tim McGraw would be on the radio. I’d find myself walking out of class, singing his songs. And then Tim ended up playing my father in ‘Friday Night Lights.’ It was surreal. – Garrett Hedlund • I said I would do all the films about the commercials, and the films about ball-bearings and Ford tractors and so on, if once a year they gave me money for a free film. – Karel Reisz • I spend hours mowing the lawn in absolutely straight lines on my tractor. If it’s not right, I do it again. – Britt Ekland • I take my vacation on the combine and tractor. – Jon Tester • I used to help my grandfather on the farm, driving tractors, raising crops and animals. I used to feed some of the baby cows and pigs, and I had to be no older than 7 or 8. Then at about 9 or 10 I started driving tractors. It showed me at an early age what hard work was all about and how dedicated you have to be, no matter what you do. – Tyson Chandler • I used to own an ant farm but had to give it up. I couldn’t find tractors small enough to fit it. – Steven Wright • I was working on the farm to get in shape, about a mile away from my parents. You know, I did everything as a kid to stay in shape – jogging, work on the farm, driving the tractor. I’ll never forget. – Guy Lafleur • I welcome opposing viewpoints, but I should warn you that you’ll be facing off against the 2nd-place finisher at the 1981 Charleston County High-School Debate Tournament. And whatever became of that county champ who argued in favor of tractor safety modifications? Last time I checked, she didn’t have her own show. – Stephen Colbert • I would say my first golf memory was asking who Arnold Palmer was when he was always on the Pennzoil commercials. When I was a little kid I watched a lot of sports, but I didn’t watch a lot of golf, and this guy was always on a tractor. – Mike Greenberg • I’d rather do manual labor than sit behind a desk. And as my grandparents got older, I’d fly out there and help out around the farm. We’d tear barns down; we’d build barns. I’d rather be outside rolling hay or driving the tractors. – Kellan Lutz • If I hadn’t become a golfer, I doubt I’d be wealthy, because I don’t have the sort of ego that drives a person all day long. I might have wound up driving a tractor. – Fuzzy Zoeller • If we were to go back in time 100 years and ask a farmer what he’d like if he could have anything, he’d probably say he wanted a horse that was twice as strong and ate half as many oats. He would not say he wanted a tractor. The point is, technology changes things so fast that many people aren’t sure what the best solutions to their problems might be. – Philip Quigley • If your stomach blocks your view of your feet, cover it up! The only people who should be wearing belly shirts are people who don’t have bellies. Now those little baby spare tires are kinda cute; tractor tires aren’t! Especially if they’ve got hair on them! – Jeff Foxworthy • I’m an outdoor nut. If I’m not working, I’m on a tractor on my farm, hunting, fishing or climbing a mountain. – Jeff Foxworthy • I’m working on a second cookbook and am working on my love story, ‘Black Heels to Tractor Wheels. – Ree Drummond • It is unthinkable to have a British countryside that doesn’t have actual functioning farmers riding tractors, cows in fields, things like that. – Bill Bryson • It’s as if the whole notion of growing soil is something only lunatics would think about. But why not grow soil? Does anything make more sense than growing soil? Isn’t that more important than tractors, trucks, silos, barns, county fairs and country music? Of course it is. And yet to the lion’s share of American farmers, the very notion of growing soil is just plain silly.- Joel Salatin • It’s good way to relax when I come home from the road. When you’re out there on the tractor there’s nobody to bother you. – Sterling Marlin • It’s like if every single male artist dressed up as farmers. In every video they were on a farm. Whether it was Jason Derulo or Oasis, they’re always on a tractor, they’re always surrounded by sheep and always in boots. And all the songs are about enjoying farming, and this is all you’ve had for 10 years – you’d think you were going mad. – Caitlin Moran • It’s us fun being a horse when the tractor comes along, or the blacksmith when the car comes along. – Warren Buffett • James Davison took me out to show me where Karl is living right now and where hes going to build. Karl wasnt at home. He was out there somewhere in the woods riding on some Caterpillar or some kind of tractor. But I figured wed at least knock on the door to see if he was there. His wife answered the door. So we got to meet Kay before Karl. – Terry Bradshaw • Let the Black man go – stop lying to us that you love us. And if you really love us, let us go and give us some of this territory that we can call our own; and give us the billions of dollars that we can get started with land and with tractors and the things that will make us an independent nation. – Louis Farrakhan • Lincolnshire is the Idaho of England. You were either going to drive a tractor for the rest of your life or head for the city to work in a factory. – Bernie Taupin • Maybe I should just go home and ride my tractor. – Chuck Grassley • Most of us stand poised at the edge of brilliance, haunted by the knowledge of our proximity, yet still demonstrably on the wrong side of the line, our dealings with reality undermined by a range of minor yet critical psychological flaws (a little too much optimism, an unprocessed rebelliousness, a fatal impatience or sentimentality). We are like an exquisite high-speed aircraft which for lack of a tiny part is left stranded beside the runway, rendered slower than a tractor or bicycle. – Alain de Botton • My father did get enough money to buy mules. We didn’t have tractors, but he bought mules, wagons, cultivators and some farming equipment. As soon as he bought that and decided to rent some land, because it was always better if you rent the land, but as soon as he got the mules and wagons and everything, somebody went to our trough – a white man who didn’t live very far from us – and he fed the mules Paris Green, put it in their food and it killed the mules and our cows. – Fannie Lou Hamer • My father kept me busy from dawn to dusk when I was a kid. When I wasn’t pitching hay, hauling corn or running a tractor, I was heaving a baseball into his mitt behind the barn… If all the parents in the country followed his rule, juvenile delinquency would be cut in half in a year’s time. – Bob Feller • My mother told me I said to her, at age three, ‘I’m going to go to Italy and get my father in a tractor.’ ‘You’ve never seen quite so fierce a little boy as you were,’ she told me. She tried to explain that I couldn’t get my father in a tractor. Apparently I looked at her and narrowed my eyes and said, ‘In that case, I’m going in a double-decker bus,’ and stomped off. Which is kind of funny, but it’s very sad, as well. – Roger Waters • Of course, it’s always bad to lose, of course it’s always a hardship when you lose to yesterday’s miners or yesterday’s tractor drivers. But life is life. It’ll surely go on. – Vladimir Putin • One of the first sights that shocked me, when I came to Israel in 1921, was an Arab turning over a field with a very primitive plow; pulling the plow were an ox and a woman. Now, if it means that we have destroyed this romantic picture by bringing in tractors, combines, and threshing machines, this is true: we have. – Golda Meir • Programs that pay farmers not to farm often devastate rural areas. The reductions hurt everyone from fertilizer companies to tractor salesmen. – Dick Armey • Some of the environmental lobbyists of the western nations are the salt of the earth, but many of them are elitists. They have never experienced the physical sensation of hunger. They do their lobbying from comfortable office suites in Washington or Brussels. If they lived just one month amid the misery of the developing world, as I have for fifty years, they would be crying out for tractors, and fertilizer, and irrigation canals, and be outraged that fashionable elitists back home were trying to deny them these things. – Norman Borlaug • Sometimes I feel people think I live on a commune but I don’t. We are all solar, though. There are no power lines. It’s mostly farmers, so everyone who has tractors uses bio-diesel. – Woody Harrelson • Technically speaking, you drive like a rabid chicken who has hijacked a tractor. – Sarah Rees Brennan • That stupid saying “What you don’t know can’t hurt you” is ridiculous. What you don’t know can kill you. If you don’t know that tractor trailer trucks hurt when hitting you, then you can play in the middle of the interstate with no fear – but that doesn’t mean you won’t get killed. – Dave Ramsey • That’s life. We all go through the tractor blades now and then. We all get bruised, and we all get cut. Sometimes the blade cuts deep. The lucky ones come through with a few scratches, a little blood, but even that isn’t the most important thing. The most important thing is having someone there to scoop you up, to hold you tight, and to tell you everything is all right. – Vicki Myron • That’s the great thing about a tractor. You can’t really hear the phone ring. – Jeff Foxworthy • That’s where I live, a junkyard in a neighborhood of junkyards. We have three tractors from the 1940s and ’50s, several old pickup trucks, and a pile of scrap metal. – Bonnie Jo Campbell • The basic thing a man should know is how to change a tyre and how to drive a tractor. Whatever that bearded dude is doing on the Dos Equis beer commercials sets the bar. That’s your guy. Every man should be aiming to be like him. The beard is just the tip of the iceberg. – Timothy Olyphant • The infantryman slithers in the mud, while many teams of horses are needed to drag each gun forward. All wheeled vehicles sink up to their axles in the slime. Even tractors can only move with great difficulty. A large portion of our heavy artillery was soon stuck fast… The strain that all this caused our already exhausted troops can perhaps be imagined. – Gunther Blumentritt • The only difference between men and women is that women are able to create new little human beings in their bodies while simultaneously writing books, driving tractors, working in offices, planting crops – in general, doing everything men do. – Erica Jong • The things that don’t happen to us that we’ll never know didn’t happen to us. The nonstories. The extra minute to find the briefcase that makes you late to the spot where a tractor trailer mauled another car instead of yours. The woman you didn’t meet because she couldn’t get a taxi to the party you had to leave early from. All of life is a series of nonstories if you look at it that way. We just don’t know what they are. – Anita Shreve • There are only three things that can kill a farmer: lightning, rolling over in a tractor, and old age. – Bill Bryson • We know that urban farms require less fuel for tractors and transport, but community gardens don’t plant themselves. – Van Jones • Well, I have a farm in Vermont that’s my main residence, where I do lots of digging and mowing, and ride tractors – just so you don’t get the wrong idea that I’m too girlie! – Tim Daly • When a country is in harmony with the Tao, the factories make trucks and tractors. When a country goes counter to the Tao, warheads are stockpiled outside the cities. There is no greater illusion than fear, no greater wrong than preparing to defend yourself, no greater misfortune than having an enemy. Whoever can see through all fear will always be safe. – Laozi • When I was still at school, I’d help Dad at the concrete yard he had prior to the garden centre. I was doing things there, like driving the tractors and forklifts, that most kids my age couldn’t. – Rick Astley • When will they make a tractor that can furnish the manure for farm fields and produce a baby tractor every spring? – George Erik Rupp • Why does a three-year-old, and it’s usually boys, want to drive the tractor or have machinery and be in control of it? I don’t know. Why wouldn’t you ask to boil a kettle or something? Maybe you would, I dunno. – Michael Fassbender • You can tell this by the program the federal government had to train 2,400 tractor drivers. They would have trained Negro and white together, but this man, Congressman Jamie Whitten, voted against it and everything that was decent. So, we’ve got to have somebody in Washington who is concerned about the people of Mississippi. – Fannie Lou Hamer • You know, when Arnold Palmer came on TV with an old tractor and told me to buy Pennzoil, I bought that, and when Dale Jarrett advertises UPS, I can go along with that, too. But I don’t think having an 18-year-old, somebody who’s probably gotten five packages in his life and they were all ‘Girls Gone Wild’ videos, tell me what delivery service I should use would have much effect on me. – Kyle Petty • You might be a redneck if on your first date you had to ask your Dad to borrow the keys to the tractor. – Jeff Foxworthy

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equitiesstocks · 5 years ago

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Tractors Quotes

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