1998 Seattle Mariners Season/ken Griffey Jr%E2%80%99s 56 Home Runs

Famous quotes containing the words ken, home, seattle, season, mariners and/or runs:

    “Is America a land of God where saints abide for ever? Where golden fields spread fair and broad, where flows the crystal river? Certainly not flush with saints, and a good thing, too, for the saints sent buzzing into man’s ken now are but poor- mouthed ecclesiastical film stars and cliché-shouting publicity agents.
    Their little knowledge bringing them nearer to their ignorance,
    Ignorance bringing them nearer to death,
    But nearness to death no nearer to God.”
    —Sean O’Casey (1884–1964)

    “Our sympathies in Massachusetts are not confined to New England; though we may be estranged from the South, we sympathize with the West. There is the home of the younger sons, as among the Scandinavians they took to the sea for their inheritance.”
    —Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)

    “The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath—the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench.”
    —Attributed to Seattle (c. 1784–1866)

    “To me a book is a message from the gods to mankind; or, if not, should never be published at all.... A message from the gods should be delivered at once. It is damnably blasphemous to talk about the autumn season and so on. How dare the author or publisher demand a price for doing his duty, the highest and most honourable to which a man can be called?”
    —Aleister Crowley (1875–1947)

    “Ye Mariners of England
    That guard our native seas!
    Whose flag has braved a thousand years
    The battle and the breeze!”
    —Thomas Campbell (1774–1844)

    “And his wish is intimacy,
    Intimater intimacy,
    And a stricter privacy;
    The impossible shall yet be done,
    And, being two, shall still be one.
    As the wave breaks to foam on shelves,
    Then runs into a wave again,
    So lovers melt their sundered selves,
    Yet melted would be twain.”
    —Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)