Ashanti Love Quotes

The Ashanti, he reminded me, are guided by, and survive through, the forces of kinship and ancestral linkage. "We take care of each other on earth," he said. "If a family member asks for help, I give it. When a family member needs money for school fees or hospital bills, I send it. And my whole extended family loves you as if you are their child. We take care of each other's children. We raise each other's children. My cousins are my brothers and sisters. My aunts are also my mothers. Your aunts are your mothers, especially Auntie Harriet because she is my eldest sister. You will never be alone in this world." "And do you really believe our ancestors are watching over us?" I asked. He smiled. "I believe in the power of remembrance," he said. "And I believe love does not die with the body.

We are hardwired to hear and make music. Yes, we will sigh with pleasure when we hear a favorite theme played by an orchestra, and who hasn’t felt a stab of nostalgia, or even brushed away a tear, when hearing a song reminiscent of youth or a lost love? However, such exquisite moments notwithstanding, the musical experience represents something far deeper. Broadly defined, music is sound in time. Sound is nothing less than our perception of the vibrations, the movement, of the universe around us. Music is an intensification, a crystallization, a celebration, a glorification, of that movement and those vibrations. Pretty heady stuff. Far beyond spoken language—which, with its sounds in time, might rightly be considered a low-end sort of music—music is a universal language; one need not speak Ashanti in order to groove to West African drumming; or German in order to be emotionally flayed by Beethoven; or English to totally freak when listening to Bruce Springsteen. Say it with flowers? Nah. If you really want to get your expressive point across, say it with music. No human activity

Primer of Love [Lesson 44] Fire and gunpowder don't sleep together. ~ Ashanti Proverb from Ghana Lesson 44) Leave the oil and vinegar for your salad dressing -- look for compatibility in your lover. You heard the old adage 'opposites attracts'-- just listen for a few more minutes and you'll next hear KABOOM. That is not the chemistry for long term relationships. You need identical value systems or you're setting yourself up for tsuris (Yiddish for aggravation).Some important compatibilities you should have are God (monotheist+atheist/bad combo), children (wants none+wants four/bad combo), money (important+non-important/bad combo), where you want to live (big city apartment+suburbia, sex (often+often/good combo). What you must agree upon from day one is the mother-in-laws don't live in your house. That's a relationship killer with an ugly hat.

Sitting here thinking to myself, how could I let this happen to me? The only man that I could ever love lied to me and broke my heart. He took my money, led me on, slept with my best friend, and left me to die. Now, I’m here all alone with our child in my stomach thinking, should I kill it or let a piece of the man I hate with all my soul, live with me for the rest of my life? My name is Ashanti Knight and this is my story.

His mother told him he was a special child, that once he had been really sick with asthma and fever and he had stopped breathing. She told him that she had knelt on the floor by the bed in which he lay and she had prayed for his life. In her love for him she prayed that god would let him live. She prayed, for she needed him to live. To give her someone to love and care for.

if she could not have him, she would have his child and give that baby all the love she had to give.

And this love does not limit itself to show obliquely when the child is a girl. I remember a mother who fed her daughter with so much of her milk that her breasts sagged so that those of her daughter may grow with sophistication.

And this love does not limit itself to show obliquely when the child is a girl. I remember a mother who fed her daughter with so much of her milk that her breasts sagged so that those of her daughter may grow with sophistication.

In my country, our love for curtains is so incredible that we are bent on enjoying everything behind them. And just like we see no good in opening them, we tend as well to ignore the curtains drawn over our eyes.

FATHER OF THE BOY SCOUTS Arthur Conan Doyle was knighted, and not for the merits of Sherlock Holmes. The writer was invited to join the ranks of the nobility as thanks for the propaganda he wrote for the imperial cause. One of his heroes was Robert Baden-Powell, the founder of the Boy Scouts. They met while fighting savages in Africa: “There was always something of the sportsman in his keen appreciation of war,” Sir Arthur said. Gifted in the art of following the tracks of others and erasing his own, Baden-Powell was a great success at the sport of hunting lions, boars, deer, Zulus, Ashantis, and Ndebeles. Against the Ndebeles, he fought a rough battle in southern Africa. Two hundred and nine blacks and one Englishman died. The colonel took as a souvenir the horn the enemy blew to sound the alarm. And that spiral-shaped horn from a kudu antelope was incorporated into Boy Scout ritual as the symbol of boys who love nature.