Ant Inspirational Quotes

We may not get to choose how we die, but we can choose how we live. The universe may forget us, but it doesn't matter. Because we are the ants, and we'll keep marching on.

We remember the past, live in the present, and write the future.

It is not enough to be industrious; so are the ants. What are you industrious about?

Wake up, Shake up, Make up and Break up; life is all about moving like ant in search of sugar not sand.

I'd like you to know that I've forgiven him. Again and again. Once done, of course, back comes the Enemy to persecute and prosecute, and I must ante up to God and forgive yet again.

We have no future because our present is too volatile. We have only risk management. The spinning of the given moment's scenarios. Pattern recognition.

The simplest answer is to act.

Se antes de cada acto nosso nos puséssemos a prever todas as consequências dele, a pensar nelas a sério, primeiro as imediatas, depois as prováveis, depois as possíveis, depois as imagináveis, não chegaríamos sequer a mover-nos de onde o primeiro pensamento nos tivesse feito parar.

Vida antes que muerte. Fuerza antes que debilidad. Viaje antes que destino.

If you're always worried about crushing the ants beneath you... you won't be able to walk.

O meu mundo não é como o dos outros, quero demais, exijo demais, há em mim uma sede de infinito, uma angústia constante que eu nem mesmo compreendo, pois estou longe de ser uma pessimista; sou antes uma exaltada, com uma alma intensa, violenta, atormentada, uma alma que se não sente bem onde está, que tem saudades... sei lá de quê!

It all depends on you. If you want it to be different,it will be different. Don't look at the world with your eyes but with your heart.

What is it all but a trouble of ants in the gleam of a million million of suns?

We're not words...we're people. Words are how others define us, but we can define ourselves any way we choose.

‎They are angry with me, because I know what I am." Said the little eagle. "How do you know that they are angry with you?" "Because, they despise me for wanting to soar, they only want me to peck at the dirt, looking for ants, with them. But I can't do that. I don't have chicken feet, I have eagle wings." "And what is so wrong with having eagle wings and no chicken feet?" Asked the old owl. "I'm not sure, that's what I'm trying to find out." "They hate you because you know that you are an eagle and they want you to think you are a chicken so that you will peck at the ground looking for ants and worms, so that you will never know that you are an eagle and always think yourself a chicken. Let them hate you, they will always be chickens, and you will always be an eagle. You must fly. You must soar." Said the old owl.

I imagine that she's looking at the stars and thinking about how small and insignificant we are down here. We're little ants on a pebble, hurtling through space.

Puede que sea preciso viajar antes de saber cuál es la meta adecuada para nosotros.

Quiero esperar en silencio la séptima ola. Si, aquí cuentan la historia indómita de la séptima ola. Las primeras seis son previsibles y equilibradas. Se condicionan unas a otras, no deparan sorpresas. Mantienen la continuidad. Pero, !cuidado con la séptima ola¡ La séptima es imprevisible. Durante mucho tiempo pasa inadvertida, participa en el monótono proceso, se adapta a sus predecesoras. Pero a veces estalla. Siempre ella, siempre la séptima. Porque es despreocupada, inocente, rebelde, barre con todo, lo cambia todo. Para ella no existe el antes, solo el ahora. Y después todo es distinto. ¿Mejor o peor? Eso solo pueden decirlo quienes estuvieron arrastrados por ella, quienes tuvieron el coraje de enfrentarla, de dejarse cautivar...

If an ant carries an object a hundred times its weight, you can carry burdens many times your size.

It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?

¿Tienes idea de cuántas vidas debimos cruzar antes de que lográramos la primera idea de que hay más en la vida que comer, luchar o alcanzar poder en la Bandada? ¡Mil vidas, Juan, diez mil! Y luego cien vidas más hasta que empezáramos a aprender que hay algo llamado perfección, y otras cien para comprender que la meta de la vida es encontrar esa perfección y reflejarla.

The universe may forget us, but our light will brighten the darkness for eons after we’ve departed this world. The universe may forget us, but it can’t forget us until we’re gone, and we’re still here, our futures still unwritten. We can choose to sit on our asses and wait for the end, or we can live right now. We can march to the edge of the void and scream in defiance. Yell out for all to hear that we do matter. That we are still here, living our absurd, bullshit lives, and nothing can take that away from us. Not rogue comets, not black holes, not the heat death of the universe. We may not get to choose how we die, but we can choose how we live. The universe may forget us, but it doesn’t matter. Because we are the ants, and we’ll keep marching on.

When they torture me, they show they’re weak. When I survive, I show I’m stronger,

The ant finds kingdoms in a foot of ground.

It is not enought to be busy, so are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?

Because the past isn't important. History is just a way of keeping score, but it doesn't have to be who we are.

Love is divisible in two parts. Love a parte ante, and love a parte post: that is, in plain English, that love which is past, and that love which is to come.

…A veces, las tempestades, las nieblas o la nieve te molestarán. Piensa entonces en todos aquellos que lo han conseguido antes que tú y dite simplemente: lo que otros han conseguido, también yo puedo hacerlo…

When you feel big and powerful, stand before a mountain; when you feel small and weak, stand before an ant.

—Y hay más. Tan pronto no van a cortar tu planta de naranja-lima. Cuando la corten estarás lejos y no sentirás nada. Sollozando me abracé a sus rodillas. —Ya no me interesa, papá. No me interesa… Y mirando su rostro, que también se encontraba lleno de lágrimas, murmuré como un muerto: —Ya la cortaron, papá, hace más de una semana que cortaron mi planta de naranja-lima. Los años pasaron, mi querido Manuel Valadares. Hoy tengo cuarenta y ocho años y, a veces, en mi nostalgia, siento la impresión de que continúo siendo una criatura. Que en cualquier momento vas a aparecer trayéndome fotos de artistas de cine o más bolitas. Tú fuiste quien me enseñó la ternura de la vida, mi Portuga querido. Hoy soy yo el que tiene que distribuir las bolitas y las figuritas, porque la vida sin ternura no vale gran cosa. A veces soy feliz en mi ternura, a veces me engaño, lo que es más común. En aquel tiempo… En el tiempo de nuestro tiempo no sabía que muchos años antes un Príncipe Idiota, arrodillado frente a un altar, preguntaba a los iconos, con los ojos llenos de lágrimas: “¿POR QUÉ LES CUENTAN LAS COSAS A LAS CRIATURITAS?” Y la verdad es, mi querido Portuga, que a mí me contaron las cosas demasiado pronto. ¡Adiós!

Cada um de nós tem dentro de si alguma coisa que não pode ser negada, ainda que nos faça grita, gritar, até ao fim. Somos o que somos, e pronto. Como a velha lenda celta do pássaro com o espinho no peito que canta até morrer, porque precisa de fazê-lo, porque é levado a isso. Podemos saber que vamos errar até antes de cometermos o erro, mas o conhecimento de nós mesmos não afecta nem altera o resultado. Cada qual entoa o seu cântico, convencido de que é o mais maravilhoso que o mundo já ouviu. Não vês? Criámos os nossos espinhos e nunca nos detivemos para avaliar o custo. A única coisa que podemos fazer é sofrer a dor e dizer intimamente que valeu a pena.

Because “we human beings are imaginative by nature, we cannot choose to live by the routine of the ant-heap. If deprived of the imagery of virtue” — imaginative depictions of the truly good life — “we will seek out the imagery of vice.

When they had understood the hoopoe's words, A clamour of complaint rose from the birds: 'Although we recognize you as our guide, You must accept - it cannot be denied - We are a wretched, flimsy crew at best, And lack the bare essentials for this quest. Our feathers and our wings, our bodies' strength Are quite unequal to the journey's length; For one of us to reach the Simorgh's throne Would be miraculous, a thing unknown. [...] He seems like Solomon, and we like ants; How can mere ants climb from their darkened pit Up to the Simorgh's realm? And is it fit That beggars try the glory of a king? How ever could they manage such a thing?' The hoopoe answered them: 'How can love thrive in hearts impoverished and half alive? "Beggars," you say - such niggling poverty Will not encourage truth or charity. A man whose eyes love opens risks his soul - His dancing breaks beyond the mind's control. [...] Your heart is not a mirror bright and clear If there the Simorgh's form does not appear; No one can bear His beauty face to face, And for this reason, of His perfect grace, He makes a mirror in our hearts - look there To see Him, search your hearts with anxious care.

Analogy of scientist who try to reach the higher speed: A child ant is tired after the long walk in a body of a jet. It tries to find a method of traveling faster than walking.

Yo quiero creer que es porque están creciendo. Antes pensaba que cuando uno era adulto ya no podía crecer más. Ahora, no. No sé si uno termine alguna vez de crecer

Ante la muerte no hay nada que podamos hacer, es algo que está fuera de nuestro alcance. Mientras seguimos vivos lo único que podemos hacer es vivir.

People who treat change as a positive force are able to adapt to any situation, because the human mind is incredible

Puede sentirse la quietud en el aire, como el instante antes de respirar. No solo está todo en silencio, está amortiguado. Es la soledad, supongo, por naturaleza y no por elección.

A harvester ant never quits and she never, ever gives up.

In 1924, Nikola Tesla was asked why he never married? His answer was this: "I had always thought of woman as possessing those delicate qualities of mind and soul that made her in her respects far superior to man. I had put her on a lofty pedestal, figuratively speaking, and ranked her in certain important attributes considerably higher than man. I worshipped at the feet of the creature I had raised to this height, and, like every true worshiper, I felt myself unworthy of the object of my worship. But all this was in the past. Now the soft voiced gentle woman of my reverent worship has all but vanished. In her place has come the woman who thinks that her chief success in life lies on making herself as much as possible like man - in dress, voice, and actions, in sports and achievements of every kind. The world has experience many tragedies, but to my mind the greatest tragedy of all is the present economic condition wherein women strive against men, and in many cases actually succeed in usurping their places in the professions and in industry. This growing tendency of women to overshadow the masculine is a sign of a deteriorating civilization. Practically all the great achievements of man until now have been inspired by his love and devotion to woman. Man has aspired to great things because some woman believed in him, because he wished to command her admiration and respect. For these reasons he has fought for her and risked his life and his all for her time and time again. Perhaps the male in society is useless. I am frank to admit that I don't know. If women are beginning to feel this way about it - and there is striking evidence at hand that they do - then we are entering upon the cruelest period of the world's history. Our civilization will sink to a state like that which is found among the bees, ants, and other insects - a state wherein the male is ruthlessly killed off. In this matriarchal empire which will be established, the female rules. As the female predominates, the males are at her mercy. The male is considered important only as a factor in the general scheme of the continuity of life. The tendency of women to push aside man, supplanting the old spirit of cooperation with him in all the affairs of life, is very disappointing to me." Galveston Daily News, Galveston, Texas, page 23. August 10, 1924.

I believe in you my soul, the other I am must not abase itself to you, And you must not be abased to the other. Loaf with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat, Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best, Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice. I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips, and gently turned over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stripped heart, And reached till you felt my beard, and reached till you held my feet. Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields, And brown ants in the little wells beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heaped stones, elder, mullein and pokeweed.

WHEN A BIRD IS ALIVE... IT EATS ANTS....WHEN BIRD IS DEAD...ANTS EAT THE BIRD. TIME AND CIRCUMSTANCES CAN CHANGE AT ANYTIME. DON'T DEVALUE OR HURT ANYONE IN LIFE. YOU MAY BE POWERFUL TODAY.' BUT REMEMBER. TIME IS MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU.!!! ONE TREE MAKES A MILLION MATCH STICKS...BUT ONLY ONE MATCH STICK NEEDED TO BURN A MILLION TREES...

No sé por qué tendemos a temer tanto estar solos. Sé que no le ocurre a todo el mundo, pero hay una tendencia general a entrar en un estado de pánico tras la ruptura ante la posibilidad de no encontrar a nadie con quien compartir tu vida ¿Y qué? ¿Qué importa si eso no sucede? Nada, absolutamente nada; volcar la posibilidad de ser feliz en la existencia de otra persona es la única raíz del problema, ni más ni menos.

My belief in Jesus did not seem rational or scientific, and yet there was nothing I could do to separate myself from this belief. I think Laura was looking for something rational, because she believed that all things that were true were rational. But that isn't the case. Love, for example, is a true emotion, but it is not rational. What I mean is, people actually feel it. I have been in love, plenty of people have been in love, yet love cannot be proved scientifically, and yet we all believe in light and by light see all things. There are plenty of things that are true that don't make any sense. I think one of the problems Laura was having was that she wanted God to make sense. He doesn't. He will make no more sense to me than I will make sense to an ant.

Nuestra juventud de ahora ama el lujo. Tiene malos modales, desprecia la autoridad; le falta el respeto a sus mayores y le encanta charlar en lugar de trabajar; ya no se levanta cuando un adulto entra en la sala; contradice a sus padres, charla ante las visitas, engulle la comida y tiraniza a sus maestros

By contrast, if you stay in a negative environment for too long you’ll become a negative person. Fact. It will suck the life out of you. It’s the same with negative people. If you’re surrounded by people who think and act negatively, then it’s for fucking sure that you’ll start doing the same. It’s up to you, really.

We human beings are not hive animals. We aren’t like bees or ants who just work constantly for the good of the community.

Sólo puede tomarse la decisión de cambiar de rumbo cuando se ha llegado al lugar donde el camino se divide, no antes.

-Debo apurarme antes de despertar las sospechas de alguien. -Ya despertó las mías.

Inspiration is everywhere. If you’re ready to appreciate it, an ant can be one of the wonders of the universe.1 —Author Unknown

Cuando acabé me di cuenta de que había escrito diez páginas de un tirón. Diez páginas llenas de tachones, errores y horrores. Pero ya era diez páginas más libre que antes de sentarme a escribir.

On game days, I could be in the worst mood imagiable-a really bad mood. But sometimes, I'd get a call from the Make-A-Wish Foundation-there would be people, sometimes kids, who anted to meet me before they died. And the foundation would call on a game day and say, "There's kid dying here whose last wish is to see you. Can you just come and see him?" I'd get there and sometimes the kid would be comatose. One day, a kid woke up for a split second and smiled at me. I was told he'd been hanging on. The mom and dad called me later and said, "I don't know what yu did to him, but those few moments were wonderful." And I cried all the way to the game, just cried my eyes out. It's very scary. It's uplifting, too, but so scary. And then... I'm bitching because my breakfast is cold?

Qué más da cómo lo llamen los demás —dice—. Esta es nuestra historia y la contamos como queremos. Es nuestra historia y la contamos como queremos. Se diría que con todo lo que leo esto se me debería haber ocurrido antes, pero no se me había ocurrido. Ni una sola vez pensé en el aspecto interpretativo, el aspecto narrativo de la vida, de mi vida. Siempre me sentí como si estuviera viviendo una historia, sí, pero no como si yo fuera la autora de esa historia, o tuviera algún tipo de responsabilidad en su narración. Tú puedes contar tu historia como te dé la real gana. Se trata de tú solo.

Un samurái doblega con su voluntad al enemigo, ha vencido el combate antes de que las espadas se crucen. El acero solo es la prolongación en tu mano de esa voluntad, la extensión del alma del guerrero.

At the moment of death, the soul's impressions are similar to those of initiates in the ways of the Great Mysteries. First they rush along blindly, twisting and turning, on an endless, anxious journey through the shadows. Then, just before the end, their fear reaches its height. Bathed in cold sweat, they shiver and tremble, utterly terrified. This phase is almost immediately followed by a return to the light, a sudden illumination. They are surrounded by a marvelous glow and move through pure places and meadows ringing with voices and dancing. Sacred words inspire religious respect. The perfect initiate is free to celebrate the Mysteries.

Once a hunter met a lion near the hungry critter's lair, and the way that lion mauled him was decidedly unfair; but the hunter never whimpered when the surgeons, with their thread, sewed up forty-seven gashes in his mutilated head; and he showed the scars in triumph, and they gave him pleasant fame, and he always blessed the lion that had camped upon his frame. Once that hunter, absent minded, sat upon a hill of ants, and about a million bit him, and you should have seen him dance! And he used up lots of language of a deep magenta tint, and apostrophized the insects in a style unfit to print. And it's thus with worldly troubles; when the big ones come along, we serenely go to meet them, feeling valiant, bold and strong, but the weary little worries with their poisoned stings and smarts, put the lid upon our courage, make us gray, and break our hearts.

It was the morning rush hour. The crowd was coming up the stairs of Penn Station like ants on the 7th Avenue side, and a Jehovah Witness was having a hell of a time selling religion. — Christ Belongs To The Whole World.

I discovered another analogy in the legacy of Prophet Muhammad that immediately clicked with me: that the angels put down their wings in humility for a person who seeks knowledge, and that all living things, even the ants in their anthill and the fish in the sea, pray for a person who teaches people good things. When I read this, I literally felt the goodness flow out of my heart for all creatures. The beautiful mental image it evoked resonated with my concept of the universe as one unit, and of all living things seeking to live together in peace and harmony, and being grateful when humans tried to fit into the circle of life, instead of working so hard to disrupt its equilibrium

With the development of chemicals with broad lethal powers, there came a sudden change in the official attitude towards the fire ant. In 1957 the United States Department of Agriculture launched one of the most remarkable publicity campaigns in its history. The fire ant suddenly became the target of a barrage of government releases, motion pictures, and government-inspired stories portraying it as a despoiler of southern agriculture and a killer of birds, livestock and man. A mighty campaign was announced …

The people who love you will offer you constructive criticism, because they want you to be the best version of yourself that you can be. They know you’re better than that. They know what you’re worth. They’re not having a pop because they want to bring you down a peg or two.

Act as if the maxim of your action were to become through your will a Universal Law of Nature." "So when I do something, I must make sure I ant everybody else to do the same if they are in the same situation." "Exactly. Only then will you be acting in accordance with the moral law within you.

Lollipops and raindrops Sunflowers and sun-kissed daisies Rolling surf and raging sea Sailing ships and submarines Old Glory and “purple mountain’s majesty” Screaming guitar and lilting rhyme Flight of fancy and high-steppin’ dances Set free my mind to wander… Imagine the ant’s marching journeys. Fly, in my mind’s eye, on butterfly wings. Roam the distant depths of space. Unfurl tall sails and cross the ocean. Pictures made just to enthrall Creating images from my truth Painting hopes and dreams on my canvas Capturing, through my lens, the ephemeral Let me ruminate ‘pon sensual darkness… Tremble o’er Hollywood’s fluttering Gothics… Ride the edge of my seat with the hero… Weep with the heroine’s desperation. Yet… more than all these things… Give me words spun out masterfully… Terms set out in meter and rhyme… Phrases bent to rattle the soul… Prose that always miraculously inspires me! The trill runs up my spine, as I recall… A touch… a caress…a whispered kiss… Ebony eyes embracing my soul… Two souls united in beat of hearts. A butterfly flutter in my womb My lover’s wonder o’er my swelling The testament of our love given life Newly laid in my lover’s arms Luminous, sweet ebony eyes Just so much like his father’s A gaze of wonder and contentment From my babe at mother’s breast Words of the Divine set down for me Faith, Hope, Love, and Charity Grace, Mercy, and undeserved Salvation “My Shepherd will supply my need” These are the things that inspire me.

—(...) Habrá mucho dolor para todos nosotros; pero no todo será dolor, ni este dolor será el último. Nosotros y usted también, usted más que nadie, mi querido amigo, tendremos que pasar a través del agua amarga antes de llegar a la dulce. Pero debemos ser valientes y desinteresados, y cumplir con nuestro deber; todo saldrá bien.

At once it struck me. Nothing can live without wonder. Wonder, perhaps, is the definition of life. The wild flowers stretch toward a sun they can never reach as if enamored of it, and it is when they are closest to that sun, blooming wide and grand, that they are most alive. The soaring birds, the creeping ants, even humans—all of them are wondering beings.

La vida es como una vela prendida. Todos cuando nacemos llevamos una con nuestro nombre reflejado en ella. La única diferencia entre unos y otros es que hay personas que traen una pequeña vela, como la de un cumpleaños, y otros traen consigo un cirio, como los que colocan en las iglesias. Unas, desgraciadamente, se consumen antes que otras, pero todas acaban apagándose.

Aquí, en este mundo que dejaste atrás, a Dios lo han secuestrado los hombres. Han creado unas religiones disparatadas, que no entiendo cómo han sobrevivido durante siglos y siguen expandiéndose. Son implacables, predican amor, justicia y caridad, y para imponerlas cometen atrocidades. Los señores muy principales que propagan estas religiones juzgan, castigan, fruncen el ceño ante la alegría, el placer, la curiosidad y la imaginación.

En el aspecto social, la inclusión es el principio básico. Nuestro lema son los pobres primero y para los pobres los mejores instrumentos, los mejores maestros, las mejores infraestructuras. La cultura para los pobres no puede ser una pobre cultura. Debe ser grande, ambiciosa, refinada, avanzada, nada de sobras. Además, ellos multiplican su efecto, porque son enormemente agradecidos ante el esfuerzo. No es práctico incorporar a su vida esa faceta como si fuera un florero.

If a parent behaves in a negative way around their child, then, guess what, their child is going to grow up with a negative mindset. This means that as parents we carry a huge responsibility on our shoulders. And yet how many of us can really say we’re leading by example? I worry that we’re becoming a nation of lazy parents. We’re so concerned with ourselves, we’re so narcissistic, that we forget that if we start acting like kids, our kids will start acting like babies. There’s a knock-on effect. Adults, increasingly, are acting like teenagers. Teenagers, more and more, are acting like children. Children are regressing into babies. There are adults who can barely look after themselves. They play the victim all the time and think only of me, me, me. Their kids don’t stand a fucking chance. No wonder there’s a whole generation of children who stick their heads in their laptops or tablets and never come out. We’re supposed to be taking steps forward in life, not tumbling back!

Se as minhas feridas não resplandecem aos olhos de quem as mira, são estimadas, pelo menos, por aqueles que sabem onde se ganharam; que o soldado melhor parece morto na batalha, do que livre na fuga: e tanto sinto isto que digo, que, se agora me propusessem e facilitassem um impossível, antes quisera ter estado naquela peleja prodigiosa, do que são das minhas feridas sem lá me ter achado. As cicatrizes que o soldado ostenta no rosto e no peito são estrelas que guiam os outros ao céu da honra, e ao desejar justo louvor; e convém advertir que se não escreve com as cãs, mas sim com o entendimento, que costuma aperfeiçoar-se com os anos.

At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: ‘I have to go to work—as a human being. What do I have to complain of, if I’m going to do what I was born for—the things I was brought into the world to do? Or is this what I was created for? To huddle under the blankets and stay warm? ‘—But it’s nicer here…’ So you were born to feel ‘nice’? Instead of doings things and experiencing them? Don’t you see the plants, the birds, the ants and spiders and bees going about their individual tasks, putting the world in order, as best they can? And you’re not willing to do your job as a human being? Why aren’t you running to do what your nature demands? ‘—But we have to sleep sometime…’ Agreed. But nature set a limit on that—as it did on eating and drinking. And you’re over the limit. You’ve had more than enough of that. But not of working. There you’re still below your quota. You don’t love yourself enough. Or you’d love your nature too, and what it demands of you. People who love what they do wear themselves down doing it, they even forget to wash or eat. Do you have less respect for your own nature than the engraver does for engraving, the dancer for dance, the miser for money or the social climber for status? When they’re really possessed by what they do, they’d rather stop eating and sleeping than give up practicing their arts.

Venían del muelle Morland, sin corbatas, sin sombreros, sofocados, mojados por la lluvia, con los ojos brillantes. Gavroche les abordó con calma. - ¿Adónde vamos? - preguntó. - Ven - contestó Courfeyrac. Detrás de Feuilly marchaba, o más bien saltada Bahorel, como un pez en el agua del motín. Llevaba un chaleco carmesí y profería palabras de esas que lo rompen todo. Su chaleco impresionó a un transeúnte, que gritó asustado: - ¡Aquí están los rojos! - ¡El rojo, los rojos! - replicó Bahorel -. ¡Vaya un temor gracioso, burgués! Por lo que a mí respecta, no tiemblo ante una amapola, la caperucita roja no me inspira pavor alguno. Créame, burgués, dejemos el miedo al rojo para los animales con cuernos.

Venían del muelle Morland, sin corbatas, sin sombreros, sofocados, mojados por la lluvia, con los ojos brillantes. Gavroche les abordó con calma. - ¿Adónde vamos? - preguntó. - Ven - contestó Courfeyrac. Detrás de Feuilly marchaba, o más bien saltada Bahorel, como un pez en el agua del motín. Llevaba un chaleco carmesí y profería palabras de esas que lo rompen todo. Su chaleco impresionó a un transeúnte, que gritó asustado: - ¡Aquí están los rojos! - ¡El rojo, los rojos! - replicó Bahorel -. ¡Vaya un temor gracioso, burgués! Por lo que a mí respecta, no tiemblo ante una amapola, la caperucita roja no me inspira pavor alguno. Créame, burgués, dejemos el miedo al rojo para los animales con cuernos. a

Let your little inspire someone greatly and greatly be the reasons for the smiles of someone in little things. Dare to help someone. Dare to be the reasons for somebody’s little smile! Remember, it doesn’t necessarily take too much to make much impact! Remember, it is our little food remains that make the ants get food in season and out of season! Remember, somewhere, it is much of the waste and less of the precious meals meant for our tables that makes the pig grows fatter! Dare to make a noble impact with your noble substance, no matter how big or small it is! Dare to cause a change that will forever be remembered, be it small or big! Dare to be the real reason for the relief of somebody. Their hearts await your impact! Their joy awaits your ignition! Take a step! Make real impact!

É no coração que morremos. É aí que a morte habita. Nem sempre nos damos conta que a carregamos connosco, mas, desde que somos vida, ela segue-nos de perto. Enquanto não somos tomados pela nossa, vamos assistindo e sentindo, em ritmo crescente ao longo da vida, às mortes de quem nos é querido. A morte de um amigo é como uma amputação: perdemos uma parte de nós; uma fonte de amor; alguém que dava sentido à nossa existência... porque despertava o amor em nós. Mas não há sabedoria alguma, cultura ou religião, que não parta do princípio de que a realidade é composta por dois mundos: um, a que temos acesso direto e, outro, que não passa pelos sentidos, a ele se chega através do coração. Contudo, o visível e o invisível misturam-se de forma misteriosa, ao ponto de se confundirem e, como alguns chegam a compreender, não serem já dois mundos, mas um só. A Morte que Trazemos no Coração Só as pessoas que amamos morrem. Só a sua morte é absoluta separação. Os estranhos, com vidas com as quais não nos cruzamos, não morrem, porque, para nós, de facto, não chegam sequer a ser. Só as pessoas que amamos não morrem. O Amor é mais forte do que a morte. O sofrimento que se sente é a prova de uma união que subsiste, agora com uma outra forma, composta apenas de... Amor. Dói, muito. Mas com a ajuda dos que partem acabamos por sentir que, afinal, não fomos separados para sempre... O Amor faz com que a nossa vida continue a ter sentido. A partida dos que foram antes de nós ensina-nos a viver melhor, de forma mais séria, mais profunda, de uma forma, inequivocamente, mais autêntica.

AFTER BEING IN LOVE, THE NEXT RESPONSIBILITY Turn me like a waterwheel turning a millstone. Plenty of water, a Living River. Keep me in one place and scatter the love. Leaf-moves in wind, straw drawn toward amber, all parts of the world are in love, but they do not tell their secrets. Cows grazing on a sacramental table, ants whispering in Solomon's ear. Mountains mumbling an echo. Sky, calm. If the sun were not in love, he would have no brightness, the side of the hill no grass on it. The ocean would come to rest somewhere. Be a lover as they are, that you come to know you Beloved. Be faithful that you may know Faith. The other parts of the universe did not accept the next responsibility of love as you can. They were afraid they might make a mistake with it, the inspired knowing that springs from being in love

Jolly Marchers by Maisie Aletha Smikle Dam Dam Didley Doe Dee Daw Didley Doe Dee Dam Doe Fa So La Ti Doe Animals in a row Prancing as they go Jiggling and Wiggling Tails and head bobbing Mice on drums Elephants on flute Zebras blare the trumpets Squirrels blow trombones Skunks get funky on clarinets Bees on violins Hogs on guitar Parrots and crickets sing Aha Aha Vultures cheer Mosquitoes twirl Wings clapping and flapping Heads go up and down bobbing Marching and skanking Rocking and bobbing Wiggling and singing Dee Daw Didley Doe This is not a circus There are no clowns There is not a palace There are no crowns On and on they go Monkeys in tow Tigers in bow Onlookers stare and glow Donkey takes the podium As conductor of the band Waving his marching wand The band comes to a stand Mule takes a stool And sits in the cool They have reached the bend Where the march ends The ants were nesting So they missed the fest Some got on tambourines And insist they must join in The ants jiggle and wiggle Some play the fiddle Dancing and singing Didley Dam Didley Doe

Há mais de dois mil e quinhentos anos nasceu no Nepal um homem chamado Siddharta Gautama, um príncipe pertencente a uma casta nobre e que vivia num palácio. Ao constatar, porém, que para lá do palácio a vida era feita de sofrimento, Siddharta abandonou tudo e foi para a Índia viver numa floresta como um asceta, dilacerado por uma pergunta: 'para quê viver quando tudo é dor?' Durante sete anos deambulou pela floresta em busca da resposta a essa pergunta. Cinco ascetas convenceram-no a jejuar, por acreditarem que a renúncia às necessidades do corpo criaria a energia espiritual que os conduziria à iluminação. Siddharta jejuou tanto que ficou esquelético e o seu umbigo tocou-lhe na coluna vertebral. No final, constatou que o corpo necessita de energia para alimentar a mente na sua busca. Decidiu, por isso, abandonar os caminhos extremos. Para ele, o verdadeiro caminho não era o da luxúria dos dois extremos. escolheu antes o caminho do meio, o do equilíbrio. Um dia, após banhar-se no rio e ao comer um arroz-doce, sentou-se em meditação debaixo de uma figueira, uma árvore da iluminação, a que chamam Bodhi, e jurou que não sairia dali enquanto não atingisse a iluminação. Após quarenta e nove dias de meditação, chegou a noite em que alcançou finalmente a clarificação final de todas as suas dúvidas. Ele despertou por completo. Siddharta tornou-se Buda, o Iluminado.

How can I tell of the rest of creation, with all its beauty and utility, which the divine goodness has given to man to please his eye and serve his purposes, condemned though he is, and hurled into these labors and miseries?  Shall I speak of the manifold and various loveliness of sky, and earth, and sea; of the plentiful supply and wonderful qualities of the light; of sun, moon, and stars; of the shade of trees; of the colors and perfume of flowers; of the multitude of birds, all differing in plumage and in song; of the variety of animals, of which the smallest in size are often the most wonderful,--the works of ants and bees astonishing us more than the huge bodies of whales?  Shall I speak of the sea, which itself is so grand a spectacle, when it arrays itself as it were in vestures of various colors, now running through every shade of green, and again becoming purple or blue?  Is it not delightful to look at it in storm, and experience the soothing complacency which it inspires, by suggesting that we ourselves are not tossed and shipwrecked?  [1664]What shall I say of the numberless kinds of food to alleviate hunger, and the variety of seasonings to stimulate appetite which are scattered everywhere by nature, and for which we are not indebted to the art of cookery?  How many natural appliances are there for preserving and restoring health!  How grateful is the alternation of day and night!  how pleasant the breezes that cool the air!  how abundant the supply of clothing furnished us by trees and animals!  Who can enumerate all the blessings we enjoy?  If I were to attempt to detail and unfold only these few which I have indicated in the mass, such an enumeration would fill a volume.  And all these are but the solace of the wretched and condemned, not the rewards of the blessed.  What then shall these rewards be, if such be the blessings of a condemned state?

Certain shapes and patterns hover over different moments in time, haunting and inspiring the individuals living through those periods. The epic clash and subsequent resolution of the dialectic animated the first half of the nineteenth century; the Darwinian and social reform movements scattered web imagery through the second half of the century. The first few decades of the twentieth century found their ultimate expression in the exuberant anarchy of the explosion, while later decades lost themselves in the faceless regimen of the grid. You can see the last ten years or so as a return to those Victorian webs, though I suspect the image that has been burned into our retinas over the past decade is more prosaic: windows piled atop one another on a screen, or perhaps a mouse clicking on an icon. These shapes are shorthand for a moment in time, a way of evoking an era and its peculiar obsessions. For individuals living within these periods, the shapes are cognitive building blocks, tools for thought: Charles Darwin and George Eliot used the web as a way of understanding biological evolution and social struggles; a half century later, the futurists embraced the explosions of machine-gun fire, while Picasso used them to re-create the horrors of war in Guernica. The shapes are a way of interpreting the world, and while no shape completely represents its epoch, they are an undeniable component of the history of thinking. When I imagine the shape that will hover above the first half of the twenty-first century, what comes to mind is not the coiled embrace of the genome, or the etched latticework of the silicon chip. It is instead the pulsing red and green pixels of Mitch Resnick’s slime mold simulation, moving erratically across the screen at first, then slowly coalescing into larger forms. The shape of those clusters—with their lifelike irregularity, and their absent pacemakers—is the shape that will define the coming decades. I see them on the screen, growing and dividing, and I think: That way lies the future.

If flowers can clean the air, and bacteria can clean the water, and ants can clean the land, we too can clean our world. Land is our gift. Water is our blessing. Air is our fortune. Life is our reward.

A Gaint can easily fall to the level of an Ant but, an Anit can't rise to the level of a Gaint

Às pressas, aos prantos, aos tropeços, disparou de volta pelo caminho das tochas que carregavam o mesmo fogo que a queimava e transformava por dentro. Sentiu na alma o ardor das brasas e a luz que ofuscava o que antes era escuridão, em um processo que mais doía do que purificava, mas que ela sabia ser necessário. Tal qual uma fênix, teria que enfrentar as chamas se quisesse renascer.

These three attributes please me as they are persistent in their ways, above all, the fourth is the most diligent one and sure knows how to handle a sword: Ants are a persistent yet impotent bunch. The lion is a voracious fighter that, by no means, look back. The horse knows its value and walks with confidence. The eagle is so competent that it knows where to go all the time.

I am not a person. I am a feeling. I am a muse for my own senses. I am a body floating a thousand miles per second around a dying star. I am one with the universe.

Al ser padres nos convertimos en fantasmas antes de tiempo. Todo lo que hacemos y decimos quedará en el recuerdo de nuestros hijos cuando ya no estemos.

Hay momentos que definen nuestras vidas y otros que las dividen. Acontecimientos que nos transforman en dos personas diferentes: las que éramos antes y aquella en la que nos convertimos después

It is not enough to be busy; so are the ants. The question is what are you so busy about?

Approach your goals with ant-like persistence.

No es que no les interesara el mundo que los rodeaba. Al contrario, tenían una implicación profunda, personal y apasionada en el mismo, pero en lugar de preguntarse: “¿Por qué estamos aquí?”, se preguntaban “¿Va llover antes de la cosecha?”. Tal vez un filósofo habría deplorado aquella falta de ambición mental, pero tan solo si estuviera realmente seguro de dónde procedía su próxima comida.

Leer abre tu mente a conocer cosas que nunca antes imaginaste

Podría haberle dado clases de moral a aquél hombre, o haber intentado hacerle ver que ante sus ojos estaba una princesa, que era mejor conquistarla que comprarla.

No permitas rendirte, sin antes idear mil razones por las cuales seguir adelante.

1. You must lead from the front. Always. 2. Speed is everything. There must be a sense of urgency. 3. Listen to the locals. They often know more than the Nobel Prize Laureates. 4. Don’t wait for federal agencies to tell you what to do ... tell them what you need. 5. Keep the public informed on the details. Do it early and often and without fanfare. Transparency inspires confidence. Confidence inspires cohesion. 6. Make quick decisions when plans fail. They will fail. As the saying goes, “No battle plan completely survives the first shot.” 7. Demand and expect excellence. There is no reason government cannot function in a competent manner. Refuse to accept failure. 8. Ignore the politics, focus on doing a good job. The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing. If you do a good job, that will all take care of itself. If you don’t, there is no amount of PR that will help you. 9. Read the old playbook, then throw it out and get ready to improvise. 10. Hope for the best but prepare for the worst, immediately. Assume you are at the Alamo. If you end up attacking an ant hill with a sledge hammer ... that’s okay. But if you end up bringing a knife to a gun fight ... that’s a failure. If you prepare for war and peace breaks out, great! But if you prepare for peace and war breaks out, you’re in trouble!

she's learned it's largely a matter of being willing to ask the next question. She's met the very Mexican who first wore his baseball cap backward, asking the next question.

El amor no esta en la mente ni en el corazón, no esta en un lugar físico, sino en uno invisible, que no se ve, que no se puede palpar o tocar, que solo se puede sentir, como si hubiera llenado un espacio que antes estaba vacío, hueco, pero que ahora al sentirlo es como si se hubiera colmado de sensaciones lindas, hermosas, como cuando alguien planta una flor en un jardín, y este espacio queda lleno de alegría y color y da sentido a su existencia.

Gossips are like ants” she caressed his head “the moment you spot one, there are already many anthills around but don’t look for them because if you do, you’ll find them and they in turn would bite you and cause you pain, and pain would cause you to lose focus.

El problema es que escoges demasiados caminos, y por eso es posible que al final no sigas ninguno. Lo mismo da. Lo importante es que estudies lo que te guste para que tu cerebro pueda ampliarse, que no se quede anclado aquí. Estudia lo que quieras, no ya para conseguir una carrera, no invirtiendo de cara al futuro, sino para potenciar tu mente. Enriquécete. No busques beneficios materiales, sino mentales. Nútrete de todo lo que has dicho antes, sin prisas, sin forzar la voluntad; que siempre lo encuentres agradable y gozoso. Lo importante no es cuántas cosas leas, sino cuántas aprendas; no cuánto tiempo emplees, sino cuánto disfrutes. (...) Sé que te estoy soltando un sermón; pero mira, no tires a la papelera esta oportunidad que se te abre. Aprovéchala. Los libros poseen una riqueza inagotable. Si quieres saber, aprenderás. Fuera, otras personas, hombres y mujeres libres, no tendrán nunca esta oportunidad de crecer. Quedarán condenados a la ignorancia, con un horizonte ante sus ojos cada vez más pequeño y una visión del mundo empobrecedora. Tampoco se trata de ninguna competición ni superación. Siempre habrá hombres más brillantes que nosotros. Se trata de extraer el máximo provecho por propio deseo, en paz, sin rivalidades ni complejos; de disfrutar de nuestras posibilidades personales sin ambicionar las de los demás. La envidia es destructiva, y se trata de construirnos y no de destruirnos.

Pain is totally inevitable for a mind so broad and a heart so deep.

Entre todas las tempestades, ella había sido el viento de oeste, el de cambio, el que le había despojado de su vida antes de conocerla.

El sueño del vuelo espacial seguía gestándose mi mente y en muchas noches de introspección juvenil, antes de conciliar el sueño, me repetía a mí mismo que hasta ahora no había descubierto nada que me demostrara que mi meta me sería imposible. Por el momento, debía seguir viviendo mi vida presente. En cierto modo, mi entrenamiento ya había comenzado.