from Orbit

"Chess is a beautiful mistress." — Bent Larsen

"Lack of patience is probably the most common reason for losing a game, or drawing games that should have been won." — Bent Larsen

"For me, chess is at the same time a game, a sport, a science and an art. And perhaps even more than that. There is something hard to explain to those who do not know the game well. One must first learn to play it correctly in order to savor its richness." — Bent Larsen

BL Best Games: https://www.newinchess.com/bent-lar...

BL Move by Move: https://www.abebooks.com/servlet/Bo...

BL Moves Guide: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show...

Learn from BL: https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/learn...

The word "checkmate" comes from the Arabic word "shah mat" which translates to "The king is dead" in English.

"Life is fun. It's all up to the person. Be satisfied. You don't have to be ‘happy' all the time, you need to be satisfied." — Lucille Boston Lewis, eternal optimist 101 years old

"A man either lives life as it happens to him, meets it head-on and licks it, or he turns his back on it and starts to wither away." — Dr. Boyce

"Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear." — George Adair

"He who imagines himself capable should attempt to perform. Neither originality counts, nor criticism of another's work. It is not courage, nor self-confidence, nor a sense of superiority that tells. Performance alone is the test." — Emanuel Lasker

"There are no secrets to success. It is the result of preparation, hard work, and learning from failure." — Colin Powell

It's not the quantity that counts; it's the quality. 8354

* C45s: https://www.chessgames.com/perl/che...

* Cheating: https://www.chess.com/article/view/...

* Lasker's 200 Hours: https://chessimprover.com/emanuel-l...

Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He's all right now.

"A man who is willing to commit suicide has the initiative." ― Boris Spassky

"Nowadays there is more dynamism in chess, modern players like to take the initiative. Usually they are poor defenders though." ― Boris Spassky

"The computer age has arrived, and it influences everything: analysis, preparation, information. Now a different talent is required - the ability to synthesize ideas." ― Boris Spassky

"We can compare classical chess and rapid chess with theatre and cinema - some actors don't like the latter and prefer to work in the theatre." ― Boris Spassky

"Time control directly influences the quality of play." ― Boris Spassky

"Nowadays the dynamic element is more important in chess - players more often sacrifice material to obtain dynamic compensation." ― Boris Spassky

"For example, computer defends well, but for humans its is harder to defend than attack, particularly with the modern time control." ― Boris Spassky

"Which do I prefer? Sex or chess? It depends on the position." ― Boris Spassky

"My forte was the middlegame. I had a good feeling for the critical moments of the play. This undoubtedly compensated for my lack of opening preparation and, possibly, not altogether perfect play in the endgame. In my games things often did not reach the endgame!" ― Boris Spassky

"The best indicator of a Chess Player's form is his ability to sense the Climax of the game." ― Boris Spassky

"Often, in the Ruy Lopez, one must be patient, wait and carry on a lengthy and wearisome struggle." ― Boris Spassky

"When I am in form, my style is a little bit stubborn, almost brutal. Sometimes I feel a great spirit of fight which drives me on." ― Boris Spassky

"After I won the title, I was confronted with the real world. People do not behave naturally anymore - hypocrisy is everywhere." ― Boris Spassky

"The best tournament that I have ever played in was in 1950. It was great - a waiter came to you during the game, and you could order anything you wanted to drink (even some vodka, if you liked). Pity, there are no longer tournaments organized in this manner." ― Boris Spassky

"Bobby Fischer has an enormous knowledge of chess and his familiarity with the chess literature of the USSR is immense." ― Boris Spassky

"When you play Bobby, it is not a question if you win or lose. It is a question if you survive." ― Boris Spassky

"In my country, at that time, being a champion of chess was like being a King. At that time I was a King and when you are King you feel a lot of responsibility, but there is nobody there to help you." ― Boris Spassky

"I still hope to kill Fischer." ― Boris Spassky

"The shortcoming of hanging pawns is that they present a convenient target for attack. As the exchange of men proceeds, their potential strength lessens and during the endgame they turn out, as a rule, to be weak." ― Boris Spassky

"The power of hanging Pawns is based precisely in their Mobility, in their Ability to create acute situations instantly." ― Boris Spassky

"I also follow chess on the Internet, where Kasparov's site is very interesting." ― Boris Spassky

"Recently I saw Kasparov and he looked to me as still young and potent champion." ― Boris Spassky

"I think that the World Champion should try to defend the quality of play more than anyone else." ― Boris Spassky

"There is only one thing Fischer does in Chess without pleasure: to lose!" ― Boris Spassky

"Nowadays young people have great choice of occupations, hobbies, etc, so chess is experiencing difficulties because of the high competition. Now it's hard to make living in chess, so our profession does attract young people." ― Boris Spassky

"Just before a game, I try to keep a clear mind so that I can focus better. I'm the kind of person who plays fast and relies a lot on intuition, so being at peace with myself is vital. Saying my daily prayers helps me achieve this heightened state of mind." ― Viswanathan Anand

"It is important that you don't let your opponent impose his style of play on you. A part of that begins mentally. At the chessboard if you start blinking every time he challenges you then in a certain sense you are withdrawing. That is very important to avoid." ― Viswanathan Anand

"Methodical thinking is of more use in chess than inspiration." ― C.J.S. Purdy

* Accidents: Game Collection: Accidents in the opening

* Cheating: https://www.chess.com/article/view/...

It's not the quantity that counts; it's the quality.

* Paul Morphy: Game Collection: Morphy games

* Philidor Beats: Game Collection: Against the Philidor

* Double Attack: Game Collection: Double Attack

* Alexander Alekhine: Game Collection: Learn from the great Alekhine

* Mikhail Tal, part 2: Game Collection: The Life and Games of Mikhail Tal (part 2)

* BF's M60MG: Game Collection: Bobby Fischer's "60 Memorable Games"

* Windmills: Game Collection: World Champs and Windmills

* World Champions: History of the World Chess Championship

* YS Tactics: Game Collection: Yasser Seirawan's Winning Chess Tactics

May-07-12
Domdaniel: I'll believe that computers are intelligent -- well, vaguely sentient anyway -- the day they start to have slanging matches and call one another 'idiot' and 'moron'. - Your motherboard was an egg timer! A *failed* egg timer!

- Were you built by *humans*?

May-07-12 Shams: <Domdaniel> There's always Alex P. Keaton's "I'd get a better game from the microwave!" He was playing against whatever you could buy at Radio Shack in 1986 though, so he may not have been far off.

<Shakespearean Puns
Perhaps no writer is better known for the use of puns than William Shakespeare. He plays with "tide" and "tied" in Two Gentlemen of Verona:

"Panthino
Away, ass! You'll lose the tide if you tarry any longer.

Launce
It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied.

Panthino
What's the unkindest tide?

Launce
Why, he that's tied here, Crab, my dog."

In the opening of Richard III, the sun refers to the blazing sun on Edward IV's banner and the fact that he is the son of the Duke of York:

"Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York."

In this line from Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare plays on the different meanings of heavy (which also means sad) and light:

"Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy I will bear the light."

Later in Romeo and Juliet, a morbid pun comes from a fatally-stabbed Mercutio, where grave means serious, but also alludes to his imminent death:

"Ask for me tomorrow, you shall find me a grave man."

If you open any Shakesperean play, you're likely to find at least one pun on the page! Keep an eye out for a clever play on words example the next time you read Hamlet or watch As You Like It on the stage.>

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

– Part I

It is an ancient mariner
And he stoppeth one of three.
–"By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stoppest thou me?

The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
Mayst hear the merry din."

He holds him with his skinny hand,
"There was a ship," quoth he.
"Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!"
Eftsoons his hand dropped he.

He holds him with his glittering eye–
The wedding-guest stood still,
And listens like a three-years' child:
The mariner hath his will.

The wedding-guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed mariner.

"The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.

The sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon–"
The wedding-guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The wedding-guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed mariner.

"And now the storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong;
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.

With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.

Listen, stranger! Mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice mast-high came floating by,
As green as emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken–
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!

At length did cross an albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God's name.

It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!

And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners' hollo!

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white moon-shine."

"God save thee, ancient mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!–
Why lookst thou so?" "With my crossbow
I shot the albatross.

– Part II

The sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners' hollo!

And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work ‘em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
‘Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down, ‘Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deeps did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.

And some in dreams assured were
Of the spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

Ah! wel-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the albatross
About my neck was hung.

– Part III

There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! A weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.

At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drouth all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.

See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!

The western wave was all aflame.
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the sun.

And straight the sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon grate he peered
With broad and burning face.

Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the sun,
Like restless gossameres?

Are those her ribs through which the sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that woman all her crew?
Is that a Death? and are there two?
Is Death that woman's mate?

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The nightmare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
‘The game is done! I've won! I've won!'
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre bark.

We listened and looked sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My lifeblood seemed to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white; From the sails the dews did drip–
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The horned moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

One after one, by the star-dogged moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.

Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

Their souls did from their bodies fly–
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my crossbow!"

– Part IV

"I fear thee, ancient mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.

I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown."–
"Fear not, fear not, thou wedding-guest!
This body dropped not down.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.

I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gushed,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,
Till the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.

An orphan's curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.

The moving moon went up the sky,
And nowhere did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside–

Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt alway
A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watched the water snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.

O happy living things! No tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.

The selfsame moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.

– Part V

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary-Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from heaven,
That slid into my soul.

The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remained,
I dreamt that they were filled with dew;
And when I awoke, it rained.

My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.

I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
I was so light–almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed ghost.

And soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.

The upper air bursts into life!
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
To and fro they were hurried about!
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge;
And the rain poured down from one black cloud;
The moon was at its edge.

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.

The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the moon
The dead men gave a groan.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The mariners all ‘gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools–
We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother's son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me."

"I fear thee, ancient mariner!"
"Be calm, thou wedding-guest!
‘Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blessed.

For when it dawned–they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the skylark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!

And now ‘twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel's song,
That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

Till noon we silently sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.

Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The spirit slid: and it was he
That made the ship to go.
The sails at noon left off their tune,
And the ship stood still also.

The sun, right up above the mast,
Had fixed her to the ocean:
But in a minute she ‘gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion–
Backwards and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.

Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.

How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.

‘Is it he?' quoth one, ‘Is this the man?
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The harmless albatross.

The spirit who bideth by himself
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.'

The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honeydew:
Quoth he, ‘The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.'

– Part VI

FIRST VOICE

‘But tell me, tell me! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing–
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the ocean doing?'

SECOND VOICE

‘Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the moon is cast–

If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.'

FIRST VOICE

‘But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?'

SECOND VOICE

‘The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.

Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
Or we shall be belated:
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the mariner's trance is abated.'

I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
‘Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
The dead men stood together.

All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snapped: once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen–

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring–
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze–
On me alone it blew.

O dream of joy! is this indeed
The lighthouse top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own country?

We drifted o'er the harbour bar,
And I with sobs did pray–
O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway!

The harbour bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the moon.

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.

A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck–
O Christ! what saw I there!

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph man,
On every corse there stood.

This seraph band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light;

This seraph band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart–
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.

But soon I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the pilot's cheer;
My head was turned perforce away
And I saw a boat appear.

The pilot and the pilot's boy,
I heard them coming fast:
Dear Lord in heaven! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.

I saw a third–I heard his voice:
It is the hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the wood.
He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
The albatross's blood.

– Part VII

This hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with mariners
That come from a far country.

He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve–
He hath a cushion plump:
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak stump.

The skiff boat neared: I heard them talk,
‘Why, this is strange, I trow!
Where are those lights so many and fair,
That signal made but now?'

‘Strange, by my faith!' the hermit said–
‘And they answered not our cheer!
The planks look warped! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were

Brown skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest-brook along;
When the ivy tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf's young.'

‘Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look,'
The pilot made reply,
‘I am a-feared'–‘Push on, push on!'
Said the hermit cheerily.

The boat came closer to the ship,
But I nor spake nor stirred;
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.

Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread:
It reached the ship, it split the bay;
The ship went down like lead.

Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote
Like one that hath been seven days drowned
My body lay afloat;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the pilot's boat.

Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.

I moved my lips–the pilot shrieked
And fell down in a fit;
The holy hermit raised his eyes,
And prayed where he did sit.

I took the oars: the pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
‘Ha! ha!' quoth he, ‘full plain I see,
The devil knows how to row.'

And now, all in my own country,
I stood on the firm land!
The hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

‘Oh shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'
The hermit crossed his brow.
‘Say quick,' quoth he, ‘I bid thee say–
What manner of man art thou?'

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woeful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
The moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.

What loud uproar bursts from that door!
The wedding-guests are there:
But in the garden-bower the bride
And bridemaids singing are:
And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer!

O wedding-guest! This soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely ‘twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.

Oh sweeter than the marriage feast,
‘Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!–

To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay!

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou wedding-guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

The mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the wedding-guest
Turned from the bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.

"The beautiful wooden board on a stand in my father's study. The gleaming ivory pieces. The stern king. The haughty queen. The noble knight. The pious bishop. And the game itself, the way each piece contributed its individual power to the whole. It was simple. It was complex. It was savage; it was elegant. It was a dance; it was a war. It was finite and eternal. It was life." ― Rick Yancey, The Infinite Sea

<"I thought you wanted me to teach you how to play. (Chess)

Each possible move represents a different game - a different universe in which you make a better move.

By the second move there are 72,084 possible games.

By the 3rd - 9 million. By the 4th….

There are more possible games of chess than there are atoms in the universe. No one could possibly predict them all, even you. Which means that first move can be terrifying. It's the furthest point from the end of the game.

There's a virtually infinite sea of possibilities between you and the other side but it also means that if you make a mistake, there's a nearly infinite amount of ways to fix it so you should simply relax and play." ― Person of Interest s04e11>

"You're just a pawn on the chessboard, Leo Valdez. I was referring to the player who set this ridiculous quest in motion, bringing the Greeks and Romans together." ― Rick Riordan, The Mark of Athena

"At the beginning of a game, there are no variations. There is only one way to set up a board. There are nine million variations after the first six moves. And after eight moves there are two hundred and eighty-eight billion different positions. And those possibilities keep growing. ... In chess, as in life, possibility is the basis of everything. Every hope, every dream, every regret, every moment of living. (p.195)" ― Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

"Life is like a game where pawns can become queens, but not everyone knows how to play. Some people stay pawn their whole lives because they never learned to make the right moves." ― Alice Feeney, Rock Paper Scissors

"...you could never be completely sure of the other person, so never make a move until you were sure of yourself." ― Liz Braswell, Part of Your World

"Coaching is more like chess; it's about out-thinking and outsmarting the other team." ― C. Vivian Stringer, Standing Tall: A Memoir of Tragedy and Triumph

"Fighting was chess, anticipating the move of one's opponent and countering it before one got hit." ― Holly Black, The Wicked King

"There is no moral outcome of a chess match or a poker game as long as skill and stealth rather than cheating have been used." ― Francis P. Karam, The Truth Engine: Cross-Examination Outside the Box

"Chess does not only teach us to analyse the present situation, but it also enables us to think about the possibilities and consequences. This is the art of forward-thinking." ― Shivanshu K. Srivastava

"Behind every move I make on the chess board lies a story of calculation, intuition, and passion. With every game, I discover more about myself and the endless possibilities of the game." ― medicosaurabh

"That is the trick of it. You see, Time works differently in Chess." He pulled out his pocket watch and let it dangle like a pendulum over his desk. "Sometimes he moves forward and sometimes he moves backward, sometimes he goes fast or slow and sometimes he pauses altogether. But as long as I keep moving, as long as I am always moving in the opposite direction from Time, he can never find me, and I can never meet my fate." ― Marissa Meyer, Heartless

"There is profound meaning in the game of chess. The board itself is life and death, painted as such in black and white. The pieces are those that make a life fundamentally healthy. The pawns are attributes we gather with nourishment and significance. The knight is our ability to be mobile and travel in whatever form it takes. The rook or castle is a place we can call home and protect ourselves from the elements. The bishop is that of our community and our belonging. The king is our mortal body; without it, we can no longer play the game. The queen is the spirit of the body - what drives our imagination, urges, a life force. A captured queen removes energy from the game, and the player may become complacent. A crowning reminder of the game is that the spirit can be possessed again through our attributes." ― Lorin Morgan-Richards

"Chess is all about maintaining coherent strategies. It's about not giving up when the enemy destroys one plan but to immediately come up with the next. A game isn't won and lost at the point when the king is finally cornered. The game's sealed when a player gives up having any strategy at all. When his soldiers are all scattered, they have no common cause, and they move one piece at a time, that's when you've lost." ― Kazuo Ishiguro, A Pale View of Hills

"It's usually the father who teaches the child his first moves in the game. And the dream of any son who plays chess is to beat his father. To kill the king. Besides, it soon becomes evident in chess that the father, or the king, is the weakest piece on the board. He's under continual act, in constant need of protection, of such tactics as castling, and he can only move one square at a time. Paradoxically, the king is also indispensable. The king gives the game its name, since the word 'chess' derives from the Persian word shah meaning king, and is pretty much the same in most languages." ― Arturo Pérez-Reverte, The Flanders Panel

"Playing chess with my father is torture. I have to sit very upright on the edge of my chair and respect the rules of impassivity while I consider my next move. I can feel myself dissolving under his stare. When I move a pawn he asks sarcastically, 'Have you really thought about what you're doing?' I panic and want to move the pawn back. He doesn't allow it: 'You've touched the piece, now you have to follow through. Think before you act. Think." ― Maude Julien, The Only Girl in the World

"A deep laugh stirred in his chest, and his thumb brushed over the backs of her fingers before he withdrew his hand. She felt the rasp of a callus on his thumb, the sensation not unlike the tingling scrape of a cat's tongue. Bemused by her own response to him, Annabelle looked down at the chess piece in her hand. "That is the queen—the most powerful piece on the board. She can move in any direction, and go as far as she wishes." There was nothing overtly suggestive in his manner of speaking …but when he spoke softly, as he was doing at that moment, there was a husky depth in his voice that made her toes curl inside her slippers. "More powerful than the king?" she asked.
"Yes. The king can only move one square at a time. But the king is the most important piece." "Why is he more important than the queen if he's not the most powerful?" "Because once he is captured, the game is over." ― Lisa Kleypas, Secrets of a Summer Night

"You and I should play sometime. I think you would like it,' she said." It's a game of strategy, mostly. The strong pieces are in the back row, while the weak pieces - the pawns - are all in the front, ready to take the brunt of the attack. Because of their limited movement and vulnerability, most people underestimate them and only use them to protect the more powerful pieces. But when I play I protect my pawns.'... 'They may be weak when the game begins, but their potential is remarkable. Most of the time, they'll be taken by the other side and held captive until the end of the game. But if you're careful - if you keep your eyes open and pay attention to what your oppenent is doing, if you protect your pawns and they reach the other side of the board, do you know what happens then?' I shook my head, and she smiled. "Your pawn becomes a queen."... 'Because they kept moving forward and triumphed against impossible odds, they become the most powerful piece in the game." ― Aimee Carter, Pawn

"Chess is a game with simple rules and pieces, a small sixty-four-space board, but there are more possible chess games than there are atoms in the universe." ― Austin Grossman, You

"Tablebases logs of complete chess games played backwards from the end-state of checkmate are the clearest case of human chess vs. alien chess. A decade of trying to teach computers how to play endgames was rendered obsolete in an instant thanks to a new tool. This is a pattern we see over and over again in everything related to intelligent machines. It's wonderful if we can teach machines to think like we do, but why settle for thinking like a human if you can be a god?

(jm3: Frustratingly for the humans, it was not disclosed whether IBM's Deep Blue stored and consulted endgame tablebases during competition)." ― Garry Kasparov, Deep Thinking: Where Machine Intelligence Ends and Human Creativity Begins

"I learned about opening moves and why it's important to control the center early on; the shortest distance between two points is straight down the middle." ― Amy Tan, The Joy Luck Club

"The passion for playing chess is one of the most unaccountable in the world. It slaps the theory of natural selection in the face. It is the most absorbing of occupations. The least satisfying of desires. A nameless excrescence upon life. It annihilates a man. You have, let us say, a promising politician, a rising artist that you wish to destroy. Dagger or bomb are archaic and unreliable - but teach him, inoculate him with chess." ― H.G. Wells

Question: What do you call a woman that knows where her husband is, at all times? Answer: A widow

Question: What is the only number spelled out in English that has the same number of letters as its value? Answer: Four

"It's not how you start that matters, it's how you finish."

"Friend, you don't have to earn God's love or try harder. You're precious in His sight, covered by the priceless blood of Jesus, and indwelt by His Holy Spirit. Don't hide your heart or fear you're not good enough for Him to care for you. Accept His love, obey Him, and allow Him to keep you in His wonderful freedom." ― Charles F. Stanley

Psalm 27:1
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?

1 John 4:18
There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

If the game is well-played, the rook's first move is usually sideways.

The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. Luke 2:9, 10.

"You can only get good at chess if you love the game." ― Bobby Fischer

"Be active. I do things my way, like skiing when I'm 100. Nobody else does that even if they have energy. And I try to eat pretty correctly and get exercise and fresh air and sunshine." ― Elsa Bailey, first time skier at age 100

"Don't look at the calendar, just keep celebrating every day." ― Ruth Coleman, carpe diem at age 101

804 zb2cr: move 28 Zukertort retort. zooter Frit z drip drip drip Kh2? lubes hiz own Szabo perfumes zan colognes, France.

What sits at the bottom of the sea and twitches? A nervous wreck.