Balance Sheet Of Life Quotes

Nothing, in truth, can ever replace a lost companion. Old comrades cannot be manufactured. There is nothing that can equal the treasure of so many shared memories, so many bad times endured together, so many quarrels, reconciliations, heartfelt impulses. Friendships like that cannot be reconstructed. If you plant an oak, you will hope in vain to sit soon under its shade. For such is life. We grow rich as we plant through the early years, but then come the years when time undoes our work and cuts down our trees. One by one our comrades deprive us of their shade, and within our mourning we always feel now the secret grief of growing old. If I search among my memories for those whose taste is lasting, if I write the balance sheet of the moments that truly counted, I surely find those that no fortune could have bought me. You cannot buy the friendship of a companion bound to you forever by ordeals endured together.

I understood that what matters is the work: the string of words propelled by God becoming a poem, the weave of color and graphite scrawled upon the sheet that magnifies His motion. To achieve within the work a perfect balance of faith and execution. From this state of mind comes a light, life-changed.

Karma is a balance sheet of life which debits and credit all your deeds.YourWhich is audited by our creator and actions are based on what we accumulated in it.

When you get older, you notice your sheets are dirty. Sometimes, you do something about it. And sometimes, you read the front page of the newspaper and sometimes you floss and sometimes you stop biting your nails and sometimes you meet a friend for lunch. You still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn’t satisfy you as much as it used to. You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago. You remember your umbrella, you check up on people to see if they got home, you leave places early to go home and make toast. You stand by the toaster in your underwear and a big t-shirt, wondering if you should just turn in or watch one more hour of television. You laugh at different things. You stop laughing at other things. You think about old loves almost like they are in a museum. The socks, you notice, aren’t organized into pairs and you mentally make a note of it. You cover your mouth when you sneeze, reaching for the box of tissues you bought, contains aloe. When you get older, you try different shampoos. You find one you like. You try sleeping early and spin class and jogging again. You try a book you almost read but couldn’t finish. You wrap yourself in the blankets of: familiar t-shirts, caffe au lait, dim tv light, texts with old friends or new people you really want to like and love you. You lose contact with friends from college, and only sometimes you think about it. When you do, it feels bad and almost bitter. You lose people, and when other people bring them up, you almost pretend like you know what they are doing. You try to stop touching your face and become invested in things like expensive salads and trying parsnips and saving up for a vacation you really want. You keep a spare pen in a drawer. You look at old pictures of yourself and they feel foreign and misleading. You forget things like: purchasing stamps, buying more butter, putting lotion on your elbows, calling your mother back. You learn things like balance: checkbooks, social life, work life, time to work out and time to enjoy yourself. When you get older, you find yourself more in control. You find your convictions appealing, you find you like your body more, you learn to take things in stride. You begin to crave respect and comfort and adventure, all at the same time. You lay in your bed, fearing death, just like you did. You pull lint off your shirt. You smile less and feel content more. You think about changing and then often, you do.

The only real failure in life is giving up. On looking back let it stand to our credit in life's balance sheet that at least we tried, and tried hard.

Karma is the balance sheet of life which debits and credit all your deeds.YourWhich is audited by our creator and actions are based on what we accumulated in it.

...education is a sacred thing, and the pledge to build a school is a commitment that cannot be surrendered or broken, regardless of how long it may take, how many obstacles must be surmounted, or how much money it will cost. It is by such promises that the balance sheet of one's life is measured.

He drew from under the table a sheet of strangely scented yellow-Chinese paper, the brushes, and slab of India ink. In cleanest, severest outline he had traced the Great Wheel with its six spokes, whose centre is the conjoined Hog, Snake, and Dove (Ignorance, Anger, and Lust), and whose compartments are all the heavens and hells, and all the chances of human life.

Believe me, it’s better to produce the balance-sheet of your own life than that of the grain market.” —SENECA, ON THE BREVITY OF LIFE, 18.3b T

...the balance sheet of her life, an endless list of credits and debits, of accomplishments and failures, small acts of kindness and real acts of cruelty. And the tears finally come as she looks away, unable to see this thing to the very end, for she knows without looking of the terrible imbalance, how long ago the credits stopped while the debits of vanity and selfishness run on and on.

This is your life. This is yours. You can establish an exact inventory of your meager fortune, the precise balance sheet of your first quarter-century. You are twenty-five years old, you have twenty-nine teeth, three shirts and eight socks, a few books you no longer read, a few records you no longer play. You do not want to remember anything else, be it your family or your studies, your friends and lovers, or your holidays and plans. You traveled and you brought nothing back from your travels. Here you sit, and you want only to wait, just to wait until there is nothing left to wait for: for night to fall and the passing hours to chime, for the days to slip away and the memories to fade.

You know better than anyone that nothing lasts. Nothing good. Nothing bad. Everything lives. Everything dies. Sometimes cities just fall into the sea. It's not a tragedy, that's just the way it is. People look around them and see the world and say this is how the world is supposed to be. Then they fight to keep it that way. They believe that this is what was intended - whether by design or cosmic accident - and that everything exists in a tenuous balance that must be preserved. But the balance is bullshit. The only thing constant in this world is the speed at which things change. Rain falls, waters rise, shorelines erode. What is one day magnificent seaside property in ancient Greece is the next resting thirty feet below the surface. Islands rise from the sea and continents crack and part ways forever. What was once a verdant forest teeming with life is now resting one thousand feet beneath a sheet of ice in Antarctica; what was once a glorious church now rests at the bottom of a dammed-up lake in Kansas. The job of nature is to march on and keep things going; ours is to look around, appreciate it, and wonder what's next?

Believe me, it’s better to produce the balance-sheet of your own life than that of the grain market.” —SENECA, ON THE BREVITY OF LIFE, 18.3b

it is better to understand the balance-sheet of one’s own life than of the corn trade.

Mist’s first passion, long before her love for cuisine took flight. She still thought fondly of evenings in front of her easel, the Pacific Ocean’s surf in the background, the glow of the moon across its surface. Those enchanted times, after hours working on the deck of an ocean side restaurant, had formed the bridge between her love of painting and her love of cooking. She would blend mustard and grape seed oil during the afternoon and mustard-hued oil paint at night, satisfied at the end of the day with the balance the two art forms created in her life. “Mist, dear, are you out there?” Mist followed the voice, moving into the kitchen, where she found Betty sliding a spatula between a sheet of wax paper and several rows of glazed

We were born and brought up with the maxim that 'time is money'. We know exactly what money is, but what does the word time mean? The day is made up of twenty-four hours and an infinite number of moments. We need to be aware of those moments and to make the most of them regardless of whether we're busy doing something or merely contemplating life. If we slow down, everything lasts much longer. Of course, that means that washing the dishes might last longer, as might totting up the debits and credits on a balance sheet or checking promissory notes, but why not use that time to think about pleasant things and to feel glad simply to be alive?

When we weigh up the balance sheet of our lives, it's always easy to see the costs. People we've hurt, mistakes we've made. But the other side of the balance can be harder to make out. How do you measure what didn't happen? Friends who didn't die because of something you did, wars that didn't start, cities that never burned. That has to count for something, doesn't it?" "You can't know what would have happened," Winter said. "Maybe everyone would have been better off." "It's possible," Abraham said placidly. "But you can't know that for certain, either. Out of all the possible worlds, we can't know if this is the best, the worst, or somewhere in between. But it's one we've got.

We can be sure that we will hold on to the deathbed as part of the last balance sheet – and this part will taste bitter as cyanide – that we have wasted too much, much too much strength and time on getting angry and getting even with others in a helpless shadow theater, which only we, who have suffered importantly, knew anything about ~ Night Train to Lisbon

Robert had little patience with these introspective bouts of mine. He never seemed to question his artistic drives, and by his example, I understood that what matters is the work: the string of words propelled by God becoming a poem, the weave of color and graphite scrawled upon the sheet that magnifies His motion. To achieve within the work a perfect balance of faith and execution. From this state of mind comes a light, life-charged.

your balance sheet is an indication of how much you have served others ~ in terms of their standards, their values, their desires. Don’t ever forget that happiness is relative. Your idea of what’s good for someone else may not be shared in the slightest by that someone. Understand, too, that I am not saying you ought to be considerate of others or that it is ethical to make people happy. It is a simple fact of life that if you do not make people happy, they aren’t going to do business with you ~ on any basis.

The New Age Manifesto You're always exactly where you need to be, some call it coincidence, others synchronicity. The universe entire, spiritually interconnects Partaking of the same God energy it at once reflects. We are all tones in the cosmos musicality, Each man tunes in and creates his unique reality. Intuition integrates our divine and truest guide, Science and rationalism are too often misapplied. All is framed by the principles, laws and duties of dharma Effecting cause, causing effect, in each incarnation's karma. Everything we confront, everyone we meet Become our teachers in life's balance sheet. The most important lesson to learn is that of love Absence its problem, presence the solution thereof.

After Mao’s death, the Communist Party grandees condemned the Cultural Revolution as “ten years of chaos”—but they quickly added that Mao had done the Motherland a great service, and his errors were trivial in comparison. The Party drew up a balance sheet and concluded that Mao had been “70 percent good and 30 percent bad.” The 30 percent part would include the 40 million people who died of starvation during the “Great Leap Forward” from 1958 to 1961—that devastating campaign in which Mao ordered every last peasant in every last village to melt down their tools and pots to provide steel. Mao wanted to “catch up with England and overtake America” by turning China into an industrial nation overnight. Eventually, China had no spades or shovels left, no ploughshares and no woks, and the result was one of the greatest famines in history.

Let me give you the balance sheet of this war: fifty great men to go down in the annals of history; millions of dead who won’t be mentioned any more; and one thousand millionaires who lay down the law. A soldier’s life is worth about fifty francs in the wallet of some fat industrialist in London, Paris, Berlin, New York, Vienna or anywhere else. Are you getting the picture?’ ‘So

In those meetings, I learned that even economic diagrams needn’t be linear. Ours was a nest of concentric circles, and an enterprise was measured by its value to each circle, from the individual and family to the community and environment. I realized that Rebecca and her colleagues were trying to do nothing less than transform the System of National Accounts, the statistical framework here and in most countries for measuring economic activity. For instance, the value of a tree depends on its estimated value or sale price, but if it is sold and cut down, there is no accounting on the debit side of the ledger for loss of oxygen, seeding of other trees, or value to the community or the environment. This group was inventing a new way of measuring profit and loss. By the end of our days together, I understood economics in a whole new way. A balance sheet really could be about balance.

The New Age Manifesto You're always exactly where you need to be, some call it coincidence, others synchronicity. The universe entire, spiritually interconnects, partaking of the same God energy it at once reflects. We are all tones in the cosmos musicality, each man tunes in and creates his unique reality. Intuition integrates our divine and truest guide, science and rationalism are too often misapplied. All is framed by the principles, laws and duties of dharma, effecting cause, causing effect, in each incarnation's karma. Everything we confront, everyone we meet become our teachers in life's balance sheet. The most important lesson to learn is that of love, absence its problem, presence the solution thereof.

even their own employees, are no more than digits on a balance sheet, lifeless objects to be used, then discarded.

Their experience seemed to confirm my father’s belief that fate was an inescapable part of life, but that every person, and every family, got a kind of zero balance in the good fortune–bad fortune equation on the ledger sheet. The bigger the highs, the deeper the troughs. My own life bore out his adage.

On Friday, July 11, Americans saw an actual bank run--not a metaphorical run, like the digital withdrawals that had crushed Bear, but a physical run on a physical bank, as in It's a Wonderful Life. That afternoon, the Office of Thrift Supervision and the FDIC shut down and seized IndyMac, a California thrift that was once part of Angelo Mozilo's Countrywide empire. IndyMac had flourished during the bubble by providing exotic mortgages to buyers without much in the way of income or assets. Its balance sheet was loaded with option adjustable-rate mortgages (ARMs), an almost comically irresponsible product that let borrowers choose their monthly payments, adding to their future obligations if they wanted to pay less at the moment.

Many people choose to invest their entire life savings into stocks, yet they do not take the time to learn basic accounting, which is the language of business.

Unfortunately, the problem is complicated by quite irrelevant human needs that claim the attention: for companionship and understanding, for a feeling of participation in the social life of humanity. And of course, for a roof over one’s head, and food and drink. The artist tries to give attention to these, but it is difficult when there are so much more important things to think about; and it is all made more difficult by the hostility of other people who every day arouse the question, Could it be that I’m wrong? Sometimes the strain makes the Outsider-artist think of suicide, but before he gets to that point, the universe is suddenly making sense again, and he has a glimpse of purpose. Moreover, that sense of accord is not the warm, vague harmony of a sleeping baby, but a blazing of all the senses, and a realization of a condition of consciousness unknown to the ordinary bourgeois. He realizes that this was what he left out of account in making up his mental balance-sheet of Pro and Contra in the universe. The Christian might call it a sense of the Fatherhood of God; a Hindu would probably prefer to call it a sense of the Motherhood of God, and his symbolism would be more congenial to the artist, who can only find comparison for the feeling in a child’s confidence in its mother. In any case, these are only symbols of a state that is too little known to human beings for their descriptions of it to be accurate.

The fervour accompanying these events may be deceptive. If it expresses nothing more than the zeal with which the countries of the East are casting aside the bonds of ideology, or if it is a mimetic fervour - a tribute, as it were, to those liberal countries where all liberty has already been traded in for a technically easy life - then we shall have found out definitively what freedom is worth, and that it is probably never to be discovered a second time. History offers no second helpings. On the other hand, it could be that the present thaw in the East may be as disastrous in the long term as the excess of carbon dioxide in the upper atmosphere, that it may bring about a political greenhouse effect, and so overheat human relations on the planet that the melting of the Communist ice-sheet will cause Western seaboards to be submerged. Odd that we should be in such absolute fear of the melting of the polar ice, and look upon it as a climatic catastrophe, while we aspire with every democratic bone in our bodies to the occurrence of just such an event on the political plane. If in the old days the USSR had released its gold reserves onto the world market, that market would have been completely destabilized. Today, by putting back into circulation their vast accumulated store of freedom, the Eastern countries could quite easily destabilize that very fragile balance of Western values which strives to ensure that freedom no longer emerges as action but only as a virtual and consensual form of interaction; no longer as a drama but merely as the universal psychodrama of liberalism. A sudden infusion of freedom as a real currency, as violent and active transcendence, as Idea, would be in every way catastrophic for our present air-conditioned redistribution of values. Yet this is precisely what we are asking of the East: freedom, the image of freedom, in exchange for the material signs of freedom. This is an absolutely diabolical contract, by virtue of which one signatory is in danger of losing their soul, and the other of losing their creature comforts. But perhaps - who knows? - this may, after all, be the best thing for both sides. Those societies that were formerly masked - Communist societies - have been unmasked. What is their face like? As for us, we dropped the mask long ago and have for a long time been without either mask or face. We are also without memory. We have reached the point of searching the water for signs of a memory that has left no traces, hoping against hope that something might remain when even the water's molecular memory has faded away. So it goes for our freedom: we would be hard put to it to produce a single sign of it, and we have been reduced to postulating its infinitesimal, intangible, undetectable existence in a (programmatic, operational) environment so highly dilute that in truth only a spectre of freedom floats there still, in a memory every bit as evanescent as water's.

He put a fresh sheet in and, after spending a few moments wishing he were doing something quite different, typed: Gregory: But this is really qutie farcical. Like all the other lines of dialogue he had so far evolved, it struck him as not only in need of instant replacement, but as requiring a longish paragraph of negative stage direction in the faint hope of getting it said ordinarily, and not ordinarily in inverted commas, either. Experimentally, he typed: (Say this without raising your chin or opening your eyes wide or tilting your face or putting on that look of vague affront you use when you think you are "underlining the emergence of a new balance of forces in the scheme of the action" like the producer told you or letting your mind focus more than you can help on sentences like "Mr. Recktham managed to breathe some life into the wooden and conventional part of Gregory" or putting any more expression into it than as if you were reading aloud something you thought was pretty boring (and not as if you were doing an imitation of someone on a stage reading aloud something he thought was pretty boring, either) or hesitating before or after "quite" or saying "fusskle" instead of "farcical".) Breathing heavily, Bowen now x-ed out his original line of dialogue and typed: Gregory: You're just pulling my leg.

What is the balance-sheet of the worldly life? Is it a profit or is it a loss? There is a loss for the one with a twelve bedroom house, and there is a loss for the one with a two bedroom house. The loss is not in the rooms, it is in your own self. Why don’t you look for it!

To balance the balance sheet of life, concentrate on your assets of positivity while managing your liabilities of negativities.

Cash is an inefficient drag during bull markets and as valuable as oxygen during bear markets. Leverage is the most efficient way to maximize your balance sheet and the easiest way to lose everything. Concentration is the best way to maximize returns but diversification is the best way to increase the odds of owning a company capable of delivering returns. If you're honest with yourself, you'll see a little inefficiency is the best spot to be in. Same with analysis. You'll see it's better to be approximately right than to be precisely wrong.

When I do something wrong,' he said, 'or merely stupid, I find it very useful to draw up-not exactly a balance sheet; no, it's more like a genealogy, if you see what I mean, a family tree of the offence. Who or what were its parents, ancestors, col- laterals? What are likely to be its descendants-in my own life and other people's? It's surprising how far a little honest research will take one. Down into the rat-holes of one's own character. Back into past history. Out into the world around one. Forward into possible consequences. It makes one realize that nothing one does is unimportant and nothing wholly private.

Every balance sheet tells a story that I love to read. I am a Chartered Accountant.

To write your memoirs is to draw up a balance sheet of your life so far.

Is your life an expense or an asset on your “balance” sheet? Having a life USED to be an expense in building a business. Today, having a life is an asset. I’d argue having a life has always been an asset, but time managers tricked us into grinding our lives away. Get a life.

Slow It Down God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. Genesis 1:5 by T. Suzanne Eller Everyone knows morning comes first, and then evening. Right? So I was surprised to read in Genesis 1:5 that the order was, in fact, reversed: “And there was evening, and there was morning.” God started with evening, a time of rest, and a day followed, in which he continued to create. We live in a culture where we work all day, and then eventually we might take time to rest. To order our days the way God does—with rest as a priority—is a challenge. I learned to prioritize God’s way when, at age 32, I was diagnosed with cancer. I told the doctor I didn’t have time for cancer, but cancer didn’t consult my schedule. My life changed while going through treatment as I put aside activities that previously had seemed vital. Out of that difficult time came a new list of priorities. At the top of the list: to balance my life. I learned to climb between the sheets and put aside my worries—to rest my body and mind. To slow down when life became crazy and assess what is important. I began to see evening as the first part of my day. This concept changed my life, physically and spiritually. Recently I had two speaking events sandwiched together. As the dates approached, time with my heavenly Father became “evening.” In preparation for my events, I listened to the heart of my Father instead of going over my notes. Out of that rest sprang fruitful ministry during the day. Learning to live with evening, or rest, as a top priority is an ongoing process. Many times I ask God to help me reprioritize, make time for physical rest and put “evening” back where it belongs. More Verses to Explore: Exodus 20:11 Psalm 91:1 Mark 6:30–31

Religion may have brought hope and comfort to some, but it has a terribly negative balance sheet. It is no exaggeration that all the ships of all the navies in the world can float comfortably in the ocean of innocent blood that has been shed in its name. I respect religious freedom, but only subject to public order, health and morality. My religion is to make as many people happy as I can. The secular Constitution of India mandates a life guided by reason and inspired by love.

You’ve heard of voodoo economics perhaps? Money magic is the most pervasive of all. Of course it would be, since money itself is the ultimate magic, a piece of paper that can do everything. Everyone wants good money magic, a way to win the lottery, gambling luck, an unexpected check in the mail, but the money magic of everyday life is more often bad. Win some money, get a bonus, have a little inheritance, and a major appliance will go out, the kid will get sick, a tire will go flat. Once you’re as poor as you were before the money arrived, life returns to normal. It’s as though there’s some kind of balance sheet that makes sure we stay at exactly the same level of prosperity all the time.

I think Fox was paying him about a million bucks a year, and he had created the Ice Age franchise for them, which was billions of dollars of value. I said, “Here’s how we’re going to negotiate with Fox. On a separate track, we’re going to create a company that you’re going to run. We’re going to get off-balance-sheet financing and we’re going to align you with another global distributor.” At the time we had at least three studios that would be great strategic fits. But he didn’t want to be an employee, he wanted real ownership. So we created parallel paths. On one track was the Fox negotiation, which I told him would take a year, and they would give him a 15 percent increase. They would grind it out and play hardball. I told him, “At the end of the day, they’re not going to pay you anywhere near what you’re worth. But on this other track, we’ll create this opportunity to change your life, for you to have something of your own.” I remember having a meeting with Mark Shmuger and David Linde, who were literally in the first day of their new jobs as co-chairmen of Universal Studios, and Bryan, Richard, Kevin, and I met with them in their first official meeting and I pitched them the idea of being in business with Chris, and they said, “Yes. We want you to do it.” It took probably well over a year, but ultimately we created Illumination. Universal came in and financed the company 100 percent. They wanted to clean up their balance sheet because they were about to sell to Comcast, so we got paid an investment banking fee for $ 4 or $ 5 million, and then on top of that we’ve commissioned every movie that Chris has done. Chris got a very, very, rich deal, probably the best producing deal there is. The truth is, on Minions he’ll probably make $ 80–$ 90 million. To date he’s probably made hundreds of millions. And he’s got Despicable Me 3, and The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.

What really decides whether money spent is an expense or an asset is actually the life of the item being considered.

I want you to understand that a salary is not an expense just because it is salary, and a building is not an asset just because it is a building. In fact, it is the life of the item that determines whether it is an expense or an asset. When salary had a long life it appeared as an asset, and when the building had a short life, it was shown as an expense.

Was life really an endless string of being bounced around from company to company, from Owner to Owner, being seen as a line item on a balance sheet—a number to get as low as possible to maximize profits?

We forget that there is no hope of joy except in human relations. If I summon up those memories that have left with me an enduring savor, if I draw up the balance sheet of the hours in my life that have truly counted, surely I find only those that no wealth could have procured me. True riches cannot be bought.

Alexander works diligently and with such care that her heart can't help but flutter. He preheats the oven, saws off four thick pieces of sourdough bread, spreads a generous layer of mayo instead of butter before searing to a perfect golden brown in a pan. Once browned, he uses a single clove of garlic and rubs it against the bread, giving an otherwise boring piece of toast that extra herbal kick. He's generous with the layers of cheese he applies--- in this case, sharp cheddar and mozzarella--- before he lays everything together, lovingly wraps the food up in a sheet of parchment paper, and pops it in the oven to melt. Once he's satisfied, he pulls the sandwich out and drizzles the top with the lightest trace of honey; a playful balance of sweet and salty. Alexander plates up without pomp or circumstance, returning to Eden with the fanciest grilled cheese she's ever eaten in her entire life.