Quotes About Decision

Still, maybe a good challenge was just what she needed to bring her back to herself. So perhaps the best thing to do was simply to call her and tell her—let loose the dogs of war and let the chips fall where they may. It was a wonderfully mangled metaphor, which made it seem even more convincing, so I stepped away from the group of cops and reached for my cell phone. Deborah

I found myself pondering as I drove, which is never a great idea in Miami's rush-hour traffic, and at the intersection of Le Jeune I very nearly plowed into a Jaguar whose driver had made the perfectly reasonable decision to turn left from the center lane. I swerved around it at the last second, earning myself a loud and operatic chorus of horns and bad words in three languages. I supposed it served me right for criticizing Rita's driving. Somehow

I could have told her that I was quite convinced, and that she would be, too, if she talked to Samantha for five minutes. But when Deborah makes up her mind, it takes a written order from the police commissioner to change it, and I didn't think there was one in the works.

Barely, only just almost, I could understand Deborah's decision not to help me. Her career was everything to her, and I really was, after all, all she said I was and feared I would be again. I was and I would be, undeniably, unchangeably, and eagerly. It made a certain sense for her to think that way, and while I could never endorse it as a plan of action, I could at least comprehend the mental process that had led her there.

Still, if I was really relying on luck, I might as well roll the dice. I stood up, trying to remember the name of the old Roman goddess of chance—Fortuna? It didn't matter. I was quite sure she only spoke Latin, and I didn't. I

I went over it all in my head, again and again, and it all added up the same way, and the only thing that really stuck out was the thought that it was all very simple, perfectly connected, coherent and logical and right, and I had no choice but to act as quickly as I could, and why should that be bothersome?

Normally I suppose I would have felt like kicking Chutsky for offering up Dexter's tender skin on the altar of unnecessary danger. But as it happened, I agreed—just this once. It was clear to me that someone with a little bit of common sense should tag along, and looking around our gathering, counting everyone, that left me. "That's right," I said. "Besides, we can always call in for backup if it gets sticky." Apparently

I think I need to see a lawyer," I tell him. He shakes his head sadly. "I retire in a year and a half," he says. And with this apparent non sequitur our conversation is over and I am buttoned securely into my cell once more.

Of all the odd thoughts I could have, that might seem the oddest, but there it was. Dexter was in a dither over doing what he does best, merely because it would be a rush job. Was my new life of luxury rotting away the hard and happy core of the monster that is me? Turning me into an old maid incapable of the simplest and most well-justified endings? Was I really so straitlaced?

and I have always found that if things have a choice of directions, they are most likely to go downhill.

Anyway," Rita said, leaning back away from Cody. "It would save some money. Which we will need for the new pool cage, because they are very pricey." "All right," I said, not completely sure what I was agreeing to do.

Well, then, Brian said. I guess it will be all right - if there's still time for some pie? [Brian Moser]

But before I could decide which choice to jump at, life intervened, as it usually does, and made the decision for me.

Would she really abandon me, her own dear brother? Leave me to a fate worse than death, although certainly including it? I didn't think she would, not willingly. I took a sip of water and tried to think it through. She

Before I could reach any decision, Rita came back with Lily Anne. "Would you like to burp her, Dexter?" she said with a Madonna-like smile—the Madonna in the paintings, not the one with the fancy bra.

Deborah dropped the magazine out of the pistol, worked the action, and looked in the chamber. "This isn't the siege of Khe fucking Sanh," she said, and she slammed the magazine back into the pistol. "I'll take this one." Chutsky

Burnside was in the best position on the field, could have moved at any time toward a weak defense, a defense that was weaker still

so the first inclination of the uncertain is to accept that which seems easy.

Giraud has changed his mind.

Instead of accepting the decision of this then august tribunal—the ultimate authority in the interpretation of constitutional questions—as conclusive of a controversy that had so long disturbed the peace and was threatening the perpetuity of the Union, it was flouted, denounced, and utterly disregarded by the Northern agitators, and served only to stimulate the intensity of their sectional hostility.

The fate of another man decided by a war they didnt declar

Which one I like better?" "That's the question, Mr. Tour Guide." I felt suddenly awkward, like I was being tested on something I hadn't studied for. I didn't really know which one I liked more. The only photos I looked at regularly were surveillance and crime scene shots. Aesthetics didn't count. Finally

He Who Hesitates (1965), Blood Relatives (1975), Long Time No See (1977) and The Big Bad City (1999).

toss a weighted paper bag out.