Michael Punke Quotes & Sayings

Of course it's not simple. Who said it was simple? But you know what? Lots of loose ends don't ever get tied up. Play the hand you're dealt. Move on. — Michael Punke

there are none so deaf as those that will not hear. — Michael Punke

Don't worry, little brother," he whispered, leaning back into the current's welcoming arms. "It's all downstream from here. — Michael Punke

significance could be found in a — Michael Punke

It was the right thing to do, but it could not be sustained. Not here. The — Michael Punke

What sin has plagued me with this curse? — Michael Punke

And if Glass believed in a god, surely it resided in this great western expanse. Not a physical presence, but an idea, something beyond man's ability to comprehend, something larger. — Michael Punke

T]hey had killed him. [...] Murdered him, except he would not die. Would not die, he vowed, because he would live to kill his killers. — Michael Punke

Still, he thought, there was no luck at all in standing still. The next morning he would crawl forward again. If luck wouldn't find him, he would do his best to make his own. — Michael Punke

As for agility, a biologist at the National Bison Range in Montana once observed a 2,000-pound bull leap up a six-foot embankment from a standing start!13 — Michael Punke

Though no law was written, there was a crude rule of law, adherence to a covenant that transcended their selfish interests. It was biblical in its depth, and its importance grew with each step into wilderness. When the need arose, a man extended a helping hand to his friends, to his partners, to strangers. In so doing, each knew that his own survival might one day depend upon the reaching grasp of another. — Michael Punke

Why did you come to the frontier? [...] To track down a common thief? To revel in a moment's revenge? I thought there was more to you than that."

Still Glass said nothing. Finally Kiowa said, "If you want to die in the guardhouse, that's for you to decide. — Michael Punke

Misfortune seemed to hang on him like day-before smoke. — Michael Punke

plews." Glass paid the captain his full attention. Every citizen of St. Louis knew some version of Drouillard's story, but Glass had never heard a first-person account. "He did that twice, went out and came back with a pack of plews. Last thing he said before he left the third time was, — Michael Punke

No mystery surrounded his nickname: he was enormous and he was filthy. Pig smelled so bad it confused people. When they encountered his reek, they looked around him for the source, so implausible did it seem that the odor could emanate from a human. — Michael Punke

His awe of the mountains grew in the days that followed, as the Yellowstone River led him nearer and nearer. Their great mass was a marker, a benchmark fixed against time itself. Others might feel disquiet at the notion of something so much larger than themselves. But for Glass, there was a sense of sacrament that flowed from the mountains like a font, an immortality that made his quotidian pains seem inconsequential. — Michael Punke

Against this backdrop of an imagined future, Bridger poled the sluggish ferry. To and fro, back and forth, motion without progression, never venturing so much as a mile beyond the fixed points of the two landings. It was the polar opposite of the life he imagined for himself, a life of wandering and exploration through country unknown, a life in which he never once retraced his steps. — Michael Punke

Glass became suddenly aware of the sound of the river. It was an odd thing to notice, he thought. He had clung to the river for weeks. Yet suddenly he heard the waters with the acute sensitivity of new discovery. He turned from the fire to stare at the river. It struck him as strange that the smooth flow of water would create any sound at all. Or that the wind would, for that matter. It occurred to him that it wasn't so much the water or the wind that accounted for the noise, but rather the objects in their path. — Michael Punke

If luck wouldn't find him, we would do his best to make his own. — Michael Punke

Lots of loose ends don't ever get tied up. Play the hand you're dealt. Move on." Kiowa — Michael Punke

Like many of the things he encountered each day, Professeur was confused by what happened next. He felt an odd sensation and looked down to find the shaft of an arrow protruding from his stomach. For a moment he wondered if La Vierge had played some kind of joke. Then a second arrow appeared, then a third. Professeur stared in horrified fascination at the feathers on the slender shafts. Suddenly he could not feel his legs and he realized he was falling backward. He heard his body make heavy contact with the frozen ground. In the brief moments before he died, he wondered, Why doesn't it hurt? — Michael Punke

His eyes became wild, searching for reassurance in the faces surrounding him. Instead he saw the opposite - awful affirmation of his fears. — Michael Punke

Glass shot an irritated glance at Red, who had an uncanny knack for spotting problems and an utter inability for crafting solutions. — Michael Punke

I intend to do the same with him that I'd do for you or any other man in this brigade. — Michael Punke

Glass spotted another dog by the creek, and this one he did not spare. Soon he had a fire burning in the center of the hut. Part of the dog he roasted on a spit over the fire and part he boiled in the kettle. He threw corn into the pot with the dog meat and continued his search through the village. — Michael Punke

Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord. - Rom. 12:19 — Michael Punke

The notion of burial had always struck him as stifling and cold. He liked the Indian way better, setting the bodies up high, as if passing them to the heavens. — Michael Punke

The revenant, he knew, searched for him. — Michael Punke

Glass had come to view the sea, which he once embraced as synonymous with freedom, as no more than the confining parameters of small ships. He resolved to turn a new direction. — Michael Punke

If he only made three miles a day, so be it. Better to have those three miles behind him than ahead. — Michael Punke

Blood oozed from deep puncture wounds at his neck and shoulder. His right arm flopped unnaturally. From the middle of his back to his waist, the bear's raking claws left deep, parallel cuts. It reminded Harris of tree trunks he had seen where bears mark their territory, only these marks were etched in flesh instead of wood. On the back of Glass's thigh, blood seeped through his buckskin breeches. Harris — Michael Punke

The boy came to believe that going west was more than just a fancy for someplace new. He came to see it as a part of his soul, a missing piece that could only be made whole on some far-off mountain or plain. — Michael Punke