Bubbles Inspirational Quotes

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Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97: Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now. Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine. Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday.
Mary Schmich
Yet there are moments when the walls of the mind grow thin; when nothing is unabsorbed, and I could fancy that we might blow so vast a bubble that the sun might set and rise in it and we might take the blue of midday and the black of midnight and be cast off and escape from here and now.
Virginia Woolf (The Waves)
Most parents try really hard to give their kids the best possible life. They give them the best food and clothes they can afford, take their own kind of take on training kids to be honest and polite. But what they don't realize is no matter how much they try, their kids will get out there. Out to this complicated little world. If they are lucky they will survive, through backstabbers, broken hearts, failures and all the kinds of invisible insane pressures out there. But most kids get lost in them. They will get caught up in all kinds of bubbles. Trouble bubbles. Bubbles that continuously tell them that they are not good enough. Bubbles that get them carried away with what they think is love, give them broken hearts. Bubbles that will blur the rest of the world to them, make them feel like that is it, that they've reached the end. Sometimes, even the really smart kids, make stupid decisions. They lose control. Parents need to realize that the world is getting complicated every second of every day. With new problems, new diseases, new habits. They have to realize the vast probability of their kids being victims of this age, this complicated era. Your kids could be exposed to problems that no kind of therapy can help. Your kids could be brainwashed by themselves to believe in insane theories that drive them crazy. Most kids will go through this stage. The lucky ones will understand. They will grow out of them. The unlucky ones will live in these problems. Grow in them and never move forward. They will cut themselves, overdose on drugs, take up excessive drinking and smoking, for the slightest problems in their lives. You can't blame these kids for not being thankful or satisfied with what they have. Their mentality eludes them from the reality.
Thisuri Wanniarachchi (COLOMBO STREETS)
There is a secret place. A radiant sanctuary. As real as your own kitchen. More real than that. Constructed of the purest elements. Overflowing with the ten thousand beautiful things. Worlds within worlds. Forests, rivers. Velvet coverlets thrown over featherbeds, fountains bubbling beneath a canopy of stars. Bountiful forests, universal libraries. A wine cellar offering an intoxi cation so sweet you will never be sober again. A clarity so complete you will never again forget. This magnificent refuge is inside you. Enter. Shatter the darkness that shrouds the doorway… Believe the incredible truth that the Beloved has chosen for his dwelling place the core of your own being because that is the single most beautiful place in all of creation.
Mirabai Starr (Interior Castle)
She felt trapped, but she didn't have to. The world is wide open and ready, waiting for us to escape this bubble and join it.
C.M. Stunich (Losing Me, Finding You (Triple M, #1))
It was one thing to have your own kind of hope, an ember you could nurture inside, something to inspire you when things got dark. If it died, it was on you; no one else even had to know about it, and you were free to reignite it, or to give up and walk away. But when you were carrying it with another person, for another person, it was a dangerous dream. Treacherous as the sea, yet fragile as a bubble.
Sarah Ockler (The Summer of Chasing Mermaids)
In A Glass of Cider It seemed I was a mite of sediment That waited for the bottom to ferment So I could catch a bubble in ascent. I rode up on one till the bubble burst, And when that left me to sink back reversed I was no worse off than I was at first. I'd catch another bubble if I waited. The thing was to get now and then elated.
Robert Frost
Empathy is the ability to step outside of your own bubble and into the bubbles of other people. Empathy is the ability that allows us to be useful creatures on this planet; without empathy, we are a waste of oxygen in this world. Without empathy, we are lower than animals. Empathy is the ability that allows us the perception of things around us, outside of ourselves; so a person without empathy is a limited human being, someone who will only live half of a life.
C. JoyBell C.
I felt clean, all the bone-beaked loneliness birds banished, their rocky nests turned to river stones. Cool, clear water bubbled over them, streams in the desert.
Bryce Courtenay (The Power of One (The Power of One, #1))
If someone thinks your ideas, the dreams bubbling up inside of you, are stupid, welcome to the Club.
Richie Norton (The Power of Starting Something Stupid)
How many other old enemies were in this crowd? Percy began to realize that every battle he’d ever won had only been a temporary victory. No matter how strong or lucky he was, no matter how many monsters he destroyed, Percy would eventually fail. He was only one mortal. He would get too old, too weak, or too slow. He would die. And these monsters…they lasted forever. They just kept coming back. Maybe it would take them months or years to re-form, maybe even centuries. But they would be reborn. Seeing them assembled in Tartarus, Percy felt as hopeless as the spirits in the River Cocytus. So what if he was a hero? So what if he did something brave? Evil was always here, regenerating, bubbling under the surface. Percy was no more than a minor annoyance to these immortal beings. They just had to outwait him. Someday, Percy’s sons or daughters might have to face them all over again.
Rick Riordan
Why is race always a factor? Nowadays, people are so quick to categorize one another and put each other in a stereotypical bubble that they do not take time to know the authentic person. It is sad, and they are quick to judge by looking at someone’s skin.
Charlena E. Jackson (Why Are You Obsessed with My Race?)
Subhuti, someone might fill innumerable worlds with the seven treasures and give all away in gifts of alms, but if any good man or any good woman awakens the thought of Enlightenment and takes even only four lines from this Discourse, reciting, using, receiving, retaining and spreading them abroad and explaining them for the benefit of others, it will be far more meritorious. Now in what manner may he explain them to others? By detachment from appearances-abiding in Real Truth. -So I tell you- Thus shall you think of all this fleeting world: A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream; A flash of lightening in a summer cloud, A flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream. When Buddha finished this Discourse the venerable Subhuti, together with the bhikshus, bhikshunis, lay-brothers and sisters, and the whole realms of Gods, Men and Titans, were filled with joy by His teaching, and, taking it sincerely to heart they went their ways.
Gautama Buddha (Diamond Sutra)
Their daughter scrunched up her hands and legs, waving them wildly in the air. He opened his palm, allowing the babe to kick his hand. "Is she like a puppy?" Constance choked. "What!" He looked up. "Will she get her spots later?" Laughter bubbled up from within her as she playfully whacked him on the shoulder. "Yes. Yes, I'm afraid she will. As soon as the sun touches her skin, the freckles will appear." A delicious two-dimple grin spread across his face. "Good. I find I'm rather partial to freckled redheads.
Deeanne Gist (A Bride Most Begrudging)
—April— In this distance I hear a heartbeat... The only sound I remember from my last life I listen to it when I am awake or in sleep.... I know it is the heartbeat of my loved one A heartbeat that inspires my heart to beat.. I don't know where you are... where to find We on earth may never meet in real... All I can listen is your heart murmur......
Raigon Stanley
Life is a bubble in the ocean of time. At the same time, it can hold all the water of the ocean in her heart.
Debasish Mridha
Please never stop wanting to collect seashells, taste snowflakes. blow bubbles, smell beautiful flowers, smile at dogs, be amazed by rainbows...okay?
Karen Salmansohn
Okay, so let's say we're all in the bubble. What's tonight then? Part of the bubble too? Because, it can't be all bad if there's Nutter Butter pancakes, right?" He flashed a crooked smile. "This? This is a blip in the bubble. A glitch in the matrix. This is the ultimate not-supposed to.
Margaux Froley (Escape Theory (Keaton School, #1))
That night in bed I was thinking about the way creeks and streams operate. They start off little, gurgling and bubbling and jumping over rocks and stuff, full of energy, going all over the place. Then they get older and bigger, become rivers, take a more definite course, stick to their path, know where they're going, get slower and wider. And eventually they reach the ocean and become part of this vast mysterious world of water that stretches away forever. Yep, just like people.
John Marsden (While I Live (The Ellie Chronicles, #1))
...the way a bubble will float along gracefully and let every colour shine from within it until it suddenly bursts and is never to be seen again. Maybe that is the beauty of beauty. It does not last and therefore, forces us to appreciate it whilst we still can.
Amelia Mysko (Hold On)
How do I watch every single one of my dreams flutter like a ribbon of bubbles pop pop popping in the air. I don't.
Elizabeth Acevedo (Clap When You Land)
Water and a bubble on it are one and the same. The bubble has its birth in the water, floats on it, and is ultimately resolved into it. Likewise, your consciousness is born in your brain, goes through various states in your lifetime and ultimately resolves into the brain.
Abhijit Naskar (Autobiography of God: Biopsy of A Cognitive Reality)
Last night I danced. My body rose from its slump for the first time since the beginning of sorrows—my fingers beckoning to the stars at arm's length, back arching as tingles bubbled up my spine, hips caught in a silent tempo while on tiptoe I twirled in endless euphoric circles. It didn't matter that you loved me or that you didn't. For I was wanted by the gods last night, their seraphs and muses descending on moonbeams into my midst, caressing my face and gliding their spirited arms about my waist, lifting my toes from the soil that I might feel what it is to fly without heaviness of heart. I danced with them under the glow of a loyal moon. For one brief, visceral dance I joyed as Heaven joys—in endless bliss. And the universe cherished me.
Richelle E. Goodrich (Smile Anyway: Quotes, Verse, and Grumblings for Every Day of the Year)
Not everyone can fly by bubble !
Gregory Maguire (Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West (The Wicked Years, #1))
Faith helps you to over come all the troubles, If you faith, troubles will blow out like bubbles. So let faith become your strength, As faith will help you to walk the length.
Ron Sen (The Verses of Life)
She thought of the Good Shepherd with His sheep. Of the Man hanging upon the cross. And the understanding bubbled up within her soul: He makes all things new.
Alicia G. Ruggieri (The Fragrance of Geraniums (A Time of Grace, #1))
Trust the solitude, Sometimes it can bring you back to you.
B.K. Sweeting (Bubbly By The Sea)
Life is like a beer. When the bubbles blew over, that was when the beer started. The beer is only half as good without the foam.
Vann Chow (The Kiss of the Pachinko Girl (Tokyo Faces #2))
Your winning attitude depends on what you believe. There’s absolutely no way to have a winning attitude if you believe the lies of the enemy. His lies are designed to burst your self-esteem bubble. And if you believe those lies that’s exactly what will happen. Your self-esteem will plummet and you will begin to harbor anger and resentment because you feel like a victim and not a victor.
Lynn R. Davis (I Might Bend But God Won't Let Me Break! 21 Inspirational Devotions and Positive Attitude Quotes)
Like the girl, he seems to bend the light around him, and although he is nearly as attractive as the girl in his own way, it is his artistic fire that created a bubble around him rather than his beauty.
Josephine Angelini (Scions (Starcrossed, #4))
There are two kinds of bubbles inside the body - one of happiness and one of negativity. You have to let those bubbles of grief burst and those of happiness multiply. This can be done only after going through an inner journey
Neelam Saxena Chandra
From the end of the World War twenty-one years ago, this country, like many others, went through a phase of having large groups of people carried away by some emotion--some alluring, attractive, even speciously inspiring, public presentation of a nostrum, a cure-all. Many Americans lost their heads because several plausible fellows lost theirs in expounding schemes to end barbarity, to give weekly handouts to people, to give everybody a better job--or, more modestly, for example, to put a chicken or two in every pot--all by adoption of some new financial plan or some new social system. And all of them burst like bubbles. Some proponents of nostrums were honest and sincere, others--too many of them--were seekers of personal power; still others saw a chance to get rich on the dimes and quarters of the poorer people in our population. All of them, perhaps unconsciously, were capitalizing on the fact that the democratic form of Government works slowly. There always exists in a democratic society a large group which, quite naturally, champs at the bit over the slowness of democracy; and that is why it is right for us who believe in democracy to keep the democratic processes progressive--in other words, moving forward with the advances in civilization. That is why it is dangerous for democracy to stop moving forward because any period of stagnation increases the numbers of those who demand action and action now.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
In the chemistry lab at school, did you ever hold a test tube, pouring in liquids and powders and seeing nothing happen until a certain powder is poured in and then everything begins to smoke and fume, bubble and boil, hiss to foam, and sometimes even explode? The tube is suddenly full of action and movement and life. Well there are people like those certain liquids or powders; at a given moment they come into a room, or into a town, even into a country-and the place is never the same again. Things bubble, boil, change. Sometimes the whole world is changed.
Langston Hughes
Hello. I am dead, very dead. Yes, we write after we die. It seems the need to create had nothing to do with a desperation to understand oneself during our aliveness, but rather the discharge of natural, tiny volumes of our soul. Here comes six bubbles: there was a boy named andrei.
Kristian Ventura (A Happy Ghost)
if I had enough time” is the unstated sentence “to hear myself think.” In other words, we imagine that if we had time we would quiet our more shallow selves and listen to a deeper flow of inspiration. Again, this is a myth that lets us off the hook—if I wait for enough time to listen, I don’t have to listen now, I don’t have to take responsibility for being available to what is trying to bubble up today.
Julia Cameron (The Right to Write: An Invitation and Initiation into the Writing Life (Artist's Way))
The Working Song by Breton Braley Oh, we're sick to death of the style of song That's only a sort of a simpering song, A kissy song and a sissy song Or a weepy, creepy, whimpering song. So give us a lift of a lusty song, A boisterous, bubbling, boiling song, Or a smashing song and a dashing song, Oh, give us the tang of a toiling song, The chanty loud of the working crowd, The thunderous thrall of a toiling song! Ay, sing us a joyous daring song, Not a moaning, groaning, fretting song, But a ringing song, and a swinging song, A rigorous, vigorous, sweating song. We have had enough of the gypsy song, Which is only a lazy, shirking song, So toughen your throat to a rougher note And give us the tune of a working song, A tune of strife and the joy of life, The beat and throb of a working song!
Berton Braley
We end up in bubbles with very narrow bands of language and experience that too often slip into individualistic self-interest,” Shriver says. “You talk to people who know and like you and think like you, and you don’t talk to other people. It’s a pursuit of safety and belonging that is more likely to be a recipe for loneliness and fear that is too often directed against some other. And sadly, the narrower the bubbles we live in, the more that fear and hatred of others grow, making the work of justice and peace almost impossible.
Lisa Miller (The Awakened Brain: The New Science of Spirituality and Our Quest for an Inspired Life)
As the cauldron bubbled she mused at how she missed prayer. It had been cathartic, and helped her to understand her own thoughts and feelings. She’d thought there was a god answering back too. Now she couldn’t conceive that there existed any great spirits or gods beyond the veil of reality the world resided in. Even so, she longed to pray. Could she pray with nothing to pray to? Prayer meant hope, it was hope carefully crafted into specifics." ~Vexis Zaelwarsh - Low Priestess to Avanti -Deathsworn Arc 4: Rise of the Archmage” ― Martyn Stanley
Martyn Stanley (Rise of the Archmage (Deathsworn Arc, #4))
In logic class, I opened my textbook—the last place I was expecting to find comic inspiration—and was startled to find that Lewis Carroll, the supremely witty author of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, was also a logician. He wrote logic textbooks and included argument forms based on the syllogism, normally presented in logic books this way: All men are mortal. Socrates is a man. _________________________________ Therefore, Socrates is mortal. But Carroll’s were more convoluted, and they struck me as funny in a new way: 1) Babies are illogical. 2) Nobody is despised who can manage a crocodile. 3) Illogical persons are despised. __________________________________________ Therefore, babies cannot manage crocodiles. And: 1) No interesting poems are unpopular among people of real taste. 2) No modern poetry is free from affectation. 3) All your poems are on the subject of soap bubbles. 4) No affected poetry is popular among people of taste. 5) Only a modern poem would be on the subject of soap bubbles. __________________________________________ Therefore, all your poems are uninteresting.
Steve Martin (Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life)
In Ireland, the rivers find their source in the Otherworld; specifically in an Otherworld well or spring which, bubbling up from the earth, is surrounded by trees of wisdom. Five streams, said to be the five senses, flow from the spring. Salmon swim in that spring and eat the hazelnuts which fall, occasionally, into the water.  To eat a salmon from this water is to receive poetic inspiration and to drink from the water itself, in ecological interpretation, is to enter into a way of being that is consonant with the underlying patterns of the cosmos.
Jason Kirkey (Salmon in the Spring: The Ecology of Celtic Spirituality)
I hadn't wanted to explain the lipstick. Or the mascara. Or the skinny jeans I'd snagged from Sienna's laundrey and washed under cover of darkness and paired with a black turtleneck that a jaunt through the dryer had made, to ne honest, a size too small. But this news about the Willing Archive trumped all of that. He gave me a careful once-over. "Well." I sat down next to him, aiming for casual. I should have aimed my butt. I sat on his geometry book. "Well what?" "Don't even.The day you become a good liar is the day I leave you for one of the Hannandas." "I have an appointment at the Willing Archive." I will say this for Frankie: He pays attention. "The utterly-off-limits, place-to-bury-your-face-in-Edward's-old-knickers archive?" "Nice.But yes,that one.Mrs. Evers got me in." "About time someone did." He bumped a shoulder against mine. "I really do hate to burst your bubble, Fiorella, but Edward is a century past appreciating the sight of you in tight jeans. So tell me whassup." I squirmed a little. "What sort of idiot do you think I am?" He sighed. "You look good, but I am concerned about the inspiration." "It's not a big deal. It's some makeup." "When I want a boy to look ta me, it's a day that ends in y. You, it's something else. It's a big deal.
Melissa Jensen (The Fine Art of Truth or Dare)
In 1818, five-year-old Thomas Alexander Mellon emigrated with his family from Northern Ireland to Pennsylvania. Inspired to seek riches by The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, Thomas studied hard and became a lawyer, and then a judge. He saved his money, bought vast stretches of downtown Pittsburgh real estate, and opened T. Mellon and Sons Bank, where he placed a life-size statue of his hero, Ben Franklin, above the door. In 1890, Thomas gave control of the bank to his son Andrew. Andrew transformed the bank into the Mellon National Bank, and as the family fortune swelled, he invested in other industries, too. Some of the investments became Gulf Oil, Alcoa, and Union Steel. Over time,
Jeff Miller (The Bubble Gum Thief (Dagny Gray Thriller))
Oh . . . I'd been getting pretty sick of the office. It made me feel dead inside. Finally, the week-ends weren't long enough to get it out of my system. I couldn't read poetry or listen to music. It was like being constipated. Well, I got a holiday and went to Kent for a week's hiking. And for the first two days I felt nothing at all, just a sort of deadness inside. And one day I went into a pub in a place called Marden and had a couple of pints. And as I came out, a sort of bubble seemed to burst inside me, and I started feeling things again. And I suddenly felt an overwhelming hatred for cities and offices and people and everything that calls itself civilisation . . . . "Then I got an idea. I sat down at the side of the road and thought about it. I'd read somewhere that the Manichees thought the world was created by evil. Well, it suddenly seemed to me that the forces behind the world weren't either good or evil, but something quite incomprehensible to human beings. And the only thing they want is movement, everlasting movement. That's the way I saw it suddenly. Human beings want peace, and they build their civilisations and make their laws to get peace. But the forces behind the world don't want peace. So they send down ertain men whose business is to keep the world in a turmoil - the Napoleons, Hitlers, Genghis Khans. And I called these men the Enemies, with a capital E. And I thought I belong among the Enemies - that's why I detest this bloody civilisation. And I suddenly began to feel better . . . .
Colin Wilson (Ritual in the Dark (Visions))
The conduct and manners of women, in fact, evidently prove, that their minds are not in a healthy state; for, like the flowers that are planted in too rich a soil, strength and usefulness are sacrificed to beauty; and the flaunting leaves, after having pleased a fastidious eye, fade, disregarded on the stalk, long before the season when they ought to have arrived at maturity. One cause of this barren blooming I attribute to a false system of education, gathered from the books written on this subject by men, who, considering females rather as women than human creatures, have been more anxious to make them alluring mistresses than rational wives; and the understanding of the sex has been so bubbled by this specious homage, that the civilized women of the present century, with a few exceptions, are only anxious to inspire love, when they ought to cherish a nobler ambition, and by their abilities and virtues exact respect.
Mary Wollstonecraft (Vindication of the Rights of Woman)
Two opposite errors, both common, are to be guarded against. On the one hand, men who are more familiar with books than with affairs are apt to over-estimate the influence of philosophers. When they see some political party proclaiming itself inspired by So-and-So's teaching, they think its actions are attributable to So-and-So, whereas, not infrequently, the philosopher is only acclaimed because he recommends what the party would have done in any case. Writers of books, until recently, almost all exaggerated the effects of their predecessors in the same trade. But conversely, a new error has arisen by reaction against the old one, and this new error consists in regarding theorists as almost passive products of their circumstances, and as having hardly any influence at all upon the course of events. Ideas, according to this view, are the froth on the surface of deep currents, which are determined by material and technical causes: social changes are no more caused by thought than the flow of a river is caused by the bubbles that reveal its direction to an onlooker.
Bertrand Russell (A History of Western Philosophy)
Four Years Since Today I remember the day but to be honest it is everyday That day then, the moment then, when you left us all here More than just a father I call, a gem I treasure, that day I lost We four girls, my mom’s other half, my brothers best bud, our first love, we lost Holding the key to the future called You, I stand still facing the gate of the past Why I keep on asking the same question? Why you? Why out of all those people? Why too soon? Why? It has been years, 4 years exact, it seems like yesterday yes You were taken too soon, words aren’t enough to express It’s not fair, but who I am to blame, who Am I to question? My eyes express longing you cannot fathom From my open mouth my broken heart pours Words that try to capture that image so faint He is the picture I could not ever paint Yet our memories is in the solid bowl being kept Spare me even just 5 or 10 minutes of your presence To build up this longing I feel, I am asking I want to hear your nag; I want to hear your laugh In my dreams please see me there I won’t get afraid nor get frightened Like a waterfalls my tears keeps on flowing Like a bubble your voice keeps on vanishing He, his shadow, he himself starts from fading I don’t want to forget you please stop time from ticking I don’t want to open my eyes don’t wake me from dreaming You are the art of my painting, the muse of my poem My strength, my inspiration why I’m still holding on My king, my superman, name them all, you are my only one I miss the old golden days when you used to carry us one by one Look papa, how I am now, hoping always, you’ll be proud It pains me to know this inevitable truth, yes That I can’t see you for now yes it’s the truth, but My father’s love undeniable not easily obtained Something that few, many people rather don’t have But I’m blessed and proud I have mine claimed.
Venancio Mary Ann
I woke up last night, with a strange tingling in my stomach, and a warm bubbling in my throat. My fingers lingered on the sheets of my bed, and I gazed wondrously at the plain ceiling, a s if I was seeing something new and beautiful. The new day was silent, dark, and the grave loneliness that normally engulfed me in its cover was nothing but a protruding memory. What was this? Slowly, I pulled myself to sit, pressing my knees to my chest, my body curling at the feel of my own heart beating. There was an energy in me, a humming that swam through my bones and radiated my skin. I felt light, so unconstrained and airy, and it was new, it was so new I had no way of understanding it. My chest, the vast enclosing that hoarded my sorrows, losses, my loneliness and hurt, was empty of its burdens. Free. Hard as I tried, I could not get myself to understand why what I cared for for so long suddenly didn't mean anything to me. Where had all that sadness ran to? Where was it? Like water, the warm realization hit me. This was the absence of my sorrows. This was me, the sound of my heart pulsing, the feel of the universe embracing me, kissing me awake - this was happiness. This was it.
Rana Mohamad
I was so jealous. I could compete against a dragon in a ‘breathing fire contest.
Kalyani Rao (Bubble Wrap)
We were sleeping on the same bed with our backs to each other trying to imagine a new life.
Kalyani Rao (Bubble Wrap)
But once on stage he seems to enjoy playing the role of inspirational speaker—a kind of nerd Tony Robbins, overly fond of touchy-feely rhetoric and vapid aphorisms. “Success,” Shah says, striding back and forth across a stage, with his head down, stroking his beard, as if impersonating a professor, “is making those who believed in you look brilliant.” Then he will pause, as if he has just said something incredibly profound and wants to give you a moment to let it sink in. Then he repeats the line, and a ballroom full of marketing people cheer.
Dan Lyons (Disrupted: My Misadventure in the Start-Up Bubble)
Sean had never stared into as many blank-eyed faces before. Throughout the high school civics talk, he felt as if he were speaking to the kids in a foreign language, one they had no intention of learning. Scrambling for a way to reach his audience, he ad-libbed, tossing out anecdotes about his own years at Coral Beach High. He confessed that as a teenager his decision to run for student government had been little more than a wily excuse to approach the best-looking girls. But what ultimately hooked his interest in student government was the startling discovery that the kids at school, all so different—jocks, nerds, preppies, and brains—could unite behind a common cause. During his senior year, when he’d been president of the student council, Coral Beach High raised seven thousand dollars to aid Florida’s hurricane victims. Wouldn’t that be something to feel good about? Sean asked his teenage audience. The response he received was as rousing as a herd of cows chewing their cud. Except this group was blowing big pink bubbles with their gum. The question and answer period, too, turned out to be a joke. The teens’ main preoccupation: his salary and whether he got driven around town in a chauffeured limo. When they learned he was willing to work for peanuts and that he drove an eight-year-old convertible, he might as well have stamped a big fat L on his forehead. He was weak-kneed with relief when at last the principal mounted the auditorium steps and thanked Sean for his electrifying speech. While Sean was politically seasoned enough to put the morning’s snafus behind him, and not worry overmuch that the apathetic bunch he’d just talked to represented America’s future voters, it was the high school principal’s long-winded enthusiasm, telling Sean how much of an inspiration he was for these kids, that truly set Sean’s teeth on edge. And made him even later for the final meeting of the day, the coral reef advisory panel.
Laura Moore (Night Swimming: A Novel)
The aspirant of the night is alone, the work merely a bubbly tale; a journeyman funneling ideas into gemstones.
James Emlund
I’m totally inspired. I want to treat you to dinner.” “Oh,” she says, shaking her head politely, suddenly feeling the ache in her feet from the long day. “No thank you, I’m just exhausted.” “But we should celebrate your successful day! Maybe just a quick drink?” She looks so excited and determined. Julie wouldn’t feel right bursting her bubble by saying
Sheri Fink (Cake in Bed)
It’s more important to simply be present than to be brilliant.
Tania Israel (Beyond Your Bubble: How to Connect Across the Political Divide, Skills and Strategies for Conversations That Work)
People’s tendency to believe that people on their side are motivated by love, and people on the other side are motivated by hate appears to be at the root of some of the world’s most intractable conflicts.
Tania Israel (Beyond Your Bubble: How to Connect Across the Political Divide, Skills and Strategies for Conversations That Work)
It is ok to feel down, it is ok to cry without any reason. It is ok to feel things that are piercing your heart. Don't always suppress the storm bubbling inside you. Scream and let it go! You are stronger than you know. But just know that it is a phase that shall pass. It is not your entire life. Brace your pain like your strength
Laraib Akram
Joy. It’s hard to say precisely what it is, but we know it when we see it – we know it when we feel it. Joy is not something planned. It bubbles up and bursts forth from six-year-old children who cannot contain it for one second longer. With a whoop and a wiggle, out it comes wherever they happen to be. Adults in witness gather these moments of joy and remember.
Kevin Deeny
I felt I was New Age before it became hip (and now passé), and disliked the name given to this 'recent' wave of spiritual interest in the 1980s because the word 'new' was in it: this word automatically implies that the phase will soon pass into something either “established” or stale, or will be chronicled as an ephemeral fad or phase to be found on some old bookshelf one day. Again, passé. For instance, the New Thought movement faded with the smoke of the Great War, the war to end all wars – which later was reclassified as WWI. Indeed, just a few years into the new 21st century, New Age was becoming old. Smooth jazz seemed to replace the name in music, and holistic and integral were the latest catch words describing the eclectic philosophy of the past decades. Astrologers were laughing: they knew the planetary alignments that predicted this network of integrated thought; it was the same inspiration behind the world wide web. Uranus (technological innovations, groups) and Neptune (images, imagination) reunited in the mid 1990s in the practical sign of Capricorn; we all became more connected with the next jump in electronics, technology and vision, right on cue. The world wide wave (www) was here. That wave came in, peaked in the 1990s, everyone was refreshed and expanded (some got drenched), and the promoters were now looking for new packaging. By the end of the 1990s, the Dot.com bubble burst. It was time for the next phase.
Stephen Poplin (Inner Journeys, Cosmic Sojourns: Life transforming stories, adventures and messages from a spiritual hypnotherapist's casebook (VOLUME1))
The journalist Mason Currey, who spent half a decade cataloging the habits of famous thinkers and writers (and from whom I learned the previous two examples), summarized this tendency toward systematization as follows: There is a popular notion that artists work from inspiration—that there is some strike or bolt or bubbling up of creative mojo from who knows where… but I hope [my work] makes clear that waiting for inspiration to strike is a terrible, terrible plan. In fact, perhaps the single best piece of advice I can offer to anyone trying to do creative work is to ignore inspiration.
Cal Newport (Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World)
Search the heads of the greatest rivers in the world, you shall find them but bubbles of water.
John Webster (The Duchess of Malfi)
By the occasion of the inaugural Fearless Friday I’ve come to realize that HubSpot is just as crazy as the rest of them. But all of HubSpot’s lofty bullshit about inspiring people and being remarkable and creating lovable content might actually be part of a cynical, and almost brilliant, strategy. HubSpot is playing the game, saying the kind of ridiculous things that investors now expect to hear from start-ups. HubSpot is feeding the ducks.
Dan Lyons (Disrupted: My Misadventure in the Start-Up Bubble)
Courage is the helium of the soul.
Ruth Tearle (Blackboards, Bubbles and Cappucinos: Warning: Contains wisdom that could change your life.)
There is a popular notion that artists work from inspiration—that there is some strike or bolt or bubbling up of creative mojo from who knows where… but I hope [my work] makes clear that waiting for inspiration to strike is a terrible, terrible plan. In fact, perhaps the single best piece of advice I can offer to anyone trying to do creative work is to ignore inspiration. In
Cal Newport (Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World)
I wanted to understand why. What was causing smart people to make decisions that sent their companies off the rails? I didn’t doubt that they believed they were doing the right thing, but something was blinding them—and keeping them from seeing the problems that threatened to upend them. As a result, their companies expanded like bubbles, then burst. What interested me was not that companies rose and fell or that the landscape continually shifted as technology changed but that the leaders of these companies seemed so focused on the competition that they never developed any deep introspection about other destructive forces
Ed Catmull (Creativity, Inc.: Overcoming the Unseen Forces That Stand in the Way of True Inspiration)
Spot by Maisie Aletha Smikle Spot looks Dalmatian And might even be a Martian He likes to cuddle And play in a puddle Spot is polka dot Cotton white and velvet black Astute smooth and immaculate Better than a box of chocolate He cushions all Before a fall And stands tall To catch a ball At the cat Spot barks When he goes for walks Sniff sniff he detects a rat He must get that His nose to the ground Tail wagging like a hound His ears propped And huge eyes popped From the leash Spot dashed In a twinkling flash Like Tom and Jerry Spot leapt in a hurry He dug deep in the sand Till he could stand Sniff sniff the rat is gone And Spot is worn and all forlorn Spot needs a bone And not sand stone So back Spot went away from the pebbles To catch some floating bubbles Spot ate his bone And sat on a stone Gazing at the distant sun in the horizon He mused for treats he could have a dozen
Maisie Aletha Smikle
You just need to be inside your own bubble far from reality & just believe in your dreams!
Akhilesh Bhagwat
If you have a notion of a woman in a bubble bath and reading a romance. I invite you to let it go.
Julie Tetel Andresen
else. She did stand you up.” He tilted my chin with his fingertips so that I was looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not going to give up. She is. And I don’t want to pursue anyone else.” We stood gazing into each other’s eyes and I realized that I needed to get him out of my house and get back to my bubble bath. I should use him for inspiration... “Look, I was in the middle of something very important before you came over, so if you could leave right now so I can get back to it, that would be great. Maybe we can talk about what happened over the weekend at work tomorrow? For the record, I really am sorry I stood you up. I had every intention of being there but—” He silenced me with a kiss and I kissed him back with a passion I’d never felt before. He reached down and untied my robe, pushing it off my shoulders and onto the floor. Smiling, he assaulted my mouth with his tongue again, using his hands to tug at the drawstring on my pants. All of sudden, I felt a vibrating sound going off in my pocket. Before I could reach down and shut it off, he reached into my pants and pulled out my favorite purple friend. He examined it for a few seconds, blinking. Then he held it front of my face and smirked. “Is this what I was interrupting?” It’s been four years....Four. Long. Years... “Claire?” He cupped my chin and held my face so I wouldn’t be able to turn away. “Is this what you were doing?” “I...” I swallowed. Then I went for it. “What if it was?” A slow, sexy smile spread across his lips. “Then I think I should finish what you started.” He sealed his mouth over mine again and pressed me against the island, making it hard for me to breathe. I’d never been kissed like he was kissing me; it felt like I was having sex—with my mouth. He was controlling my tongue with his, molding his perfectly full lips to mine, and biting down on my
Whitney G. (Mid-Life Love (Mid-Life Love, #1))
There is a popular notion that artists work from inspiration—that there is some strike or bolt or bubbling up of creative mojo from who knows where… but I hope [my work] makes clear that waiting for inspiration to strike is a terrible, terrible plan. In fact, perhaps the single best piece of advice I can offer to anyone trying to do creative work is to ignore inspiration.
Cal Newport (Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World)
She said that too.” His voice was low key and modest. The accent, which was not very pronounced, had the gentle burr of the Scottish professional classes. This was an accent that would score highly in those tests of reliability that newspapers liked to carry out—those surveys that tended to reveal that a mild Scottish accent in a bank manager or financial adviser inspired more public trust than any other voice. By the same token, although the surveys were never so tactless as to point it out, people were reluctant to take investment recommendations from a person with a very strong Irish accent. There was no objective reason for this, of course, even if Ireland had created a property bubble of gargantuan proportions in the days of easily borrowed money. These views were tied in with old perceptions, and were slow to change, even in the face of hard evidence.
Alexander McCall Smith (A Distant View of Everything (Isabel Dalhousie #11))
The Bradford Exchange—a knockoff of [Joseph] Segel’s [Franklin Mint] business—created a murky secondary market for its collector plates, complete with advertisements featuring its “brokers” hovering over computers, tracking plate prices. To underscore the idea of these mass-produced tchotchkes as upmarket, sophisticated investments, the company deployed some of its most aggressive ads (which later led to lawsuits) in magazines like Kiplinger’s Personal Finance and Architectural Digest. A 1986 sales pitch offered “The Sound of Music,” the first plate in a new series from the Edwin M. Knowles China Company, at a price of $19.50. Yet the ad copy didn’t emphasize the plate itself. Rather, bold type introduced two so-called facts: “Fact: ‘Scarlett,’ the 1976 first issue in Edwin M. Knowles’ landmark series of collector’s plates inspired by the classic film Gone With the Wind, cost $21.60 when it was issued. It recently traded at $245.00—an increase of 1,040% in just seven years.” And “Fact: ‘The Sound of Music,’ the first issue in Knowles’ The Sound of Music series, inspired by the classic film of the same name, is now available for $19.50.” Later the ad advised that “it’s likely to increase in value.” Currently, those plates can be had on eBay for less than $5 each. In 1993 U.S. direct mail sales of collectibles totaled $1.7 billion
Zac Bissonnette (The Great Beanie Baby Bubble: Mass Delusion and the Dark Side of Cute)
Inside an H Mart complex, there will be some kind of food court, an appliance shop, and a pharmacy. Usually, there's a beauty counter where you can buy Korean makeup and skin-care products with snail mucin or caviar oil, or a face mask that vaguely boasts "placenta." (Whose placenta? Who knows?) There will usually be a pseudo-French bakery with weak coffee, bubble tea, and an array of glowing pastries that always look much better than they taste. My local H Mart these days is in Elkins Park, a town northeast of Philadelphia. My routine is to drive in for lunch on the weekends, stock up on groceries for the week, and cook something for dinner with whatever fresh bounty inspires me. The H Mart in Elkins Park has two stories; the grocery is on the first floor and the food court is above it. Upstairs, there is an array of stalls serving different kinds of food. One is dedicated to sushi, one is strictly Chinese. Another is for traditional Korean jjigaes, bubbling soups served in traditional earthenware pots called ttukbaegis, which act as mini cauldrons to ensure that your soup is still bubbling a good ten minutes past arrival. There's a stall for Korean street food that serves up Korean ramen (basically just Shin Cup noodles with an egg cracked in); giant steamed dumplings full of pork and glass noodles housed in a thick, cakelike dough; and tteokbokki, chewy, bite-sized cylindrical rice cakes boiled in a stock with fish cakes, red pepper, and gochujang, a sweet-and-spicy paste that's one of the three mother sauces used in pretty much all Korean dishes. Last, there's my personal favorite: Korean-Chinese fusion, which serves tangsuyuk---a glossy, sweet-and-sour orange pork---seafood noodle soup, fried rice, and black bean noodles.
Michelle Zauner (Crying in H Mart)
Some will wish you to remain far under ocean depth. Far from surface of voice or taking a breath. Let the storm within you stir the waters below. Let the bubbles carry you, rid approval and begin to grow.
B.K. Sweeting
Dear Wildest Dreams, Although I am trapped in sadness and sorrow, you are one of my favorite thoughts. You give me faith to dream. I imagine I am falling, but you catch me and cover me in your bed of flowers. You smell so sweet. You are so loving. When I think about you, no harm can come to me. You protect me from my quiet thoughts, and if someone tries to hurt me, you will pierce them with your thorns and coil them up in your invasive vines. Dear Wildest Dreams, this moment, right here and right now, is perfect. You are a safe place. I feel so calm when I am in your presence. I am so happy here, please stay. In my wildest dreams, I have a family who cares. We do the simplest things, such as go on family walks while I hold hands with my mom, dad, and Kace. We have dinner at the table, and my parents asked me about my day. I have my own room, and it is beautiful! I have a real bed and many books! I have fresh water to drink. I can soak in the bathtub, play with bubbles, and just relax. I have the perfect simple life. Dear Wildest Dreams, thank you for this moment. You made my day.
Charlena E. Jackson (Pinwheels and Dandelions)
I will give you the scale to find out what you are fermenting in your life - bliss or worry or what. When you allow fermentation of bliss in your inner space, you will be overflowing. There will be excitement, inspiration, life positivity in your words, thoughts, energy - you will be bubbly! Your food intake will drastically reduce.
Paramahamsa Nithyananda
At sea, I was the captain. I was important, and I had a role. I ran the show. At home, I was the swab. I did the shit work, almost always unappreciated. I loved my family, but man did I hate being on land all the time. I tried my best, I honestly did. I really stepped up my game around the house to be the best dad and partner I could be. It just was never good enough. With no offshore fishing and encouragement at home, part of me was dead inside, the part that made me who I am. I missed my boat daily. Flashbacks were a constant. I daydreamed of foaming schools of tuna while washing bubbly dishes. I saw mahi mahi boldly charging baits as I folded brightly colored laundry. When I went jogging and my heart started pumping, I saw huge marlin going wild on the gaffs. Everything reminded me of the boat. I most likely honestly had post-traumatic stress from the whole ordeal
Kenton Geer (Vicious Cycle: Whiskey, Women, and Water)
Privilege and responsibility are inseparable twins. A privilege-rich, responsibility-free lifestyle is simply a fragile bubble which can burst anytime.
Tunde Salami
Well,” more than one Disney executive told me that day, “until computer animation can do bubbles, then it will not have arrived.
Ed Catmull (Creativity, Inc.: Overcoming the Unseen Forces That Stand in the Way of True Inspiration)
Today is a great day to think about your death. Lie down somewhere cozy. Do a mental run-through, as if it were happening right now. Ideally, who is here with you? As you look back on your life, is anything missing? Don’t wait another minute to take action on anything that bubbles up. This is really living.” SARAH When I think about my death, I mostly think about gratitude and wanting to love people better. You might think about your will, a letter you need to write, a soul dream you haven’t acted on yet, caring less about what other people think about you, or giving your Gmail password to your designated power of attorney. All of it is valid. When you’re ready to die every day, you’re fully primed for life. If you had died yesterday, what would you wish you had done more of? Less of?
Sarah Bamford Seidelmann (How Good Are You Willing to Let It Get?: Daily FEELGOOD Inspiration for Creatives, Healers, and Helpers)
The wise person does not become involved in the multiplication of things, knowing that all phenomena are like a dream, an illusion, a bubble, and a shadow.
Twitter - @IntroIntrospect
There is a popular notion that artists work from inspiration—that there is some strike or bolt or bubbling up of creative mojo from who knows where … but I hope [my work] makes clear that waiting for inspiration to strike is a terrible, terrible plan. In fact, perhaps the single best piece of advice I can offer to anyone trying to do creative work is to ignore inspiration. In a New York Times column on the topic, David Brooks summarizes this reality more bluntly: “[Great creative minds] think like artists but work like accountants.
Cal Newport (Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World)
We all belong to the same humanity; we are all tiny bubbles in the river of life. The bubbles keep popping up and vanishing, but the water remains, the ocean remains, and I am a part of that ocean of life. I am part of the same water that every other being is. I am just a little piece of dirt floating about, a piece given the power to think, move, and create for a short time. Life is getting expressed through me and all other beings.
Kuldip K. Rai (Inspire, Perspire, and Go Higher, Volume 1: 111 Ways, Disciplines, Exercises, Short Bios, and Jokes with Lessons to Inspire and Motivate You)
As to Orphism, it soon blended with the worship of the god Dionysus, who originated in Thrace, and who was worshipped there in the form of a bull. Dionysus was quickly accepted in seventh-century Greece, because he was exactly what the Greeks needed to complete their pantheon of gods; under the name Bacchus he became the god of wine, and his symbol was sometimes an enormous phallus. Frazer speaks of Thracian rites involving wild dances, thrilling music and tipsy excess, and notes that such goings-on were foreign to the clear rational nature of the Greeks. But the religion still spread like wildfire throughout Greece, especially among women—indicating, perhaps, a revolt against civilisation. It became a religion of orgies; women worked themselves into a frenzy and rushed about the hills, tearing to pieces any living creature they found. Euripides’ play The Bacchae tells how King Pentheus, who opposed the religion of Bacchus, was torn to pieces by a crowd of women, which included his mother and sisters, all in ‘Bacchic frenzy.’ In their ecstasy the worshippers of Bacchus became animals, and behaved like animals, killing living creatures and eating them raw. The profound significance of all this was recognised by the philosopher Nietzsche, who declared himself a disciple of the god Dionysus. He spoke of the ‘blissful ecstasy that rises from the innermost depths of man,’ dissolving his sense of personality: in short, the sexual or magical ecstasy. He saw Dionysus as a fundamental principle of human existence; man’s need to throw off his personality, to burst the dream-bubble that surrounds him and to experience total, ecstatic affirmation of everything. In this sense, Dionysus is fundamentally the god, or patron saint, of magic. The spirit of Dionysus pervades all magic, especially the black magic of the later witch cults, with their orgiastic witch’s sabbaths so like the orgies of Dionysus’s female worshippers, even to the use of goats, the animal sacred to Dionysus. (Is it not also significant that Dionysus is a horned god, like the Christian devil?) The ‘scent of truth’ that made Ouspensky prefer books on magic to the ‘hard facts’ of daily journalism is the scent of Dionysian freedom, man’s sudden absurd glimpse of his godlike potentialities. It is also true that the spirit of Dionysus, pushed to new extremes through frustration and egomania, permeates the work of De Sade. As Philip Vellacot remarks of Dionysus in his introduction to The Bacchae: ‘But, though in the first half of the play there is some room for sympathy with Dionysus, this sympathy steadily diminishes until at the end of the play, his inhuman cruelty inspires nothing but horror.’ But this misses the point about Dionysus—that sympathy is hardly an emotion he would appreciate. He descends like a storm wind, scattering all human emotion.
Colin Wilson (The Occult)
The blunders we make do not always impose self-inflicted inconvenience; we do not exist in a bubble.
Jay D'Cee
Why bother learning a new skill or establishing a new habit, as such commitments evidently take time and effort to take on? It's much better to sit in a bubble of comfort, right?
Jay D'Cee
All of it had paid off and now wastelands became mikvah and water she drank and grew light as it bubbled up by her and healed her and proclaimed her each word the truth and the joy and the treasure she always had been from the beginning.
Ariel O'Suilleabhain (A Mother Society: A Ginsberg Style Poem Book)
It good thing to put make up on that will suit your personality and match your tone skin color,outfit for an example if you're a polite person us polite colors if you're vibrant or bubble person vibe colors is yours that will make you beautiful in a stylish way if it heppen that you want to booster apply bright colors it little touch up or lower adjust color little not with the way that will show.
Nozipho N.Maphumulo
Another word found in Strong’s Concordance for prophetic impartation is nabiy’, which as we have already seen, is the action of “flowing forth,” or “bubbling forth like a fountain.” This perfectly describes the inspirational gift of prophecy we see so often in meetings, particularly in a setting of a plurality of elders and seasoned, gifted individuals working together as a coordinated team—the
James W. Goll (The Seer Expanded Edition: The Prophetic Power of Visions, Dreams and Open Heavens)
Over the years I have built up this tough outer skin around myself, almost like a bubble or a barrier. This has been keeping me safe, but it has not allowed me to feel deeply, to embrace life fully. You were the only one who truly supported me Mary…there was no barrier between you and I. But it is not the same with the rest of the world.’ ‘Have you now removed that barrier?’ ‘I am trying.’ ‘What’s under it?’ ‘Light, pure light
Ana Rangel & Gerry O'malley
Fame is an epiphany of bubbles that are transient and pugnacious.
Debasish Mridha
He entered the bathroom just in time to see her lowering herself into the tub. Her long hair was pinned up on her head and there were bubbles. It was in his mind to pass her a beer and sit on the closed toilet lid to talk with her while she was in the bath, but then another thought was inspired. Luke had never in his life even contemplated a bubble bath. He put the beer on the sink, dropped his towel and got in. “You’re going to make a flood!” she said with a laugh. “This tub isn’t quite big enough,” he complained, sitting to face her, the faucet jabbing him in the back. He pushed his long legs past her hips, lifted her legs to drape them over his thighs and pulled her toward him, into his arms. “You’re acting crazy,” she said, laughing. “I’m impatient,” he said, his lips on her neck. “I can hardly get through the day, waiting for you.” “I’m not quite freshened up yet,” she said. “I’ll help with that,” he said, picking up the soap. He ran the soap smoothly over her shoulders, down her back, over her breasts, under her arms, bringing low, delighted hums from her when he lathered her up. Then he took the face cloth and gently rinsed her.
Robyn Carr (Temptation Ridge)
Sit on a cliff and look at the ocean. In the ocean of life, you are a bubble, but you have the power to appreciate the greatness, vastness, and beauty of her. Because you came, sit next to the ocean and enjoy the beauty and appreciate the vast, great, and creative power. She is dancing with joy. You may not know that she is watching you, but she knows you are watching her.
Debasish Mridha
He (Mohammed) was an ordinary man just like any other man. And as such his personal instincts, urges, drives as well as his philosophical goodness bubbled to the surface of his consciousness when he attained the Absolute Unitary Qualia.
Abhijit Naskar (The Islamophobic Civilization: Voyage of Acceptance (Neurotheology Series))
I fired up the brick oven, reminding myself that garlic has no place in a confection and butter becomes a layer of oil floating atop the cheese. I felt confident and excited; this time I would get it right. I helped myself to the triple-cream cheese (still convinced it it would make a delicious base) and then added a dollop of honey to sweeten it and heavy cream to thin it enough for my whisk. Since my last endeavor, I'd noticed that wine was primarily used in sauces and stews, and so, in a moment of blind inspiration, I added, instead, a splash of almond liqueur, which I hoped would add subtle flavor without changing the creamy color of the cheese. Instead of the roach-like raisins, I threw in a handful of chopped almonds that I imagined would provide a satisfying crunch and harmonize with the liqueur. I beat it all to a smooth batter and poured it into a square pan, intending to cut rectangular slices after it cooled. I slid the pan, hopefully, into the oven. Once again, I watched the edges bubble and noticed, with satisfaction, that instead of an overpowering smell of garlic there was a warm seductive hint of almond in the air. The bubbles turned to a froth that danced over the entire surface, and I assumed this was a sign of cohesion. My creation would come out of the oven like firm custard with undertones of almond and an unexpected crunch. The rectangular servings would make an unusual presentation- neither cheese nor pudding nor custard, but something completely new and unique. The bubbling froth subsided to a gently bumpy surface, and to my horror those damnable pockmarks began to appear with oil percolating in the tiny craters. The nuts completed the disruption of the creamy texture and gave the whole thing a crude curdled look. If only this cross-breed concoction would cohere, it might yet be cut up into squares and served on a plate with some appealing garnish, perhaps strawberries and mint leaves for color. I took the pan out and stared at it as it cooled, willing it to stand up, pull itself together, be firm. When the pan was cool enough to touch, I dipped my spoon into the mixture and it came out dripping and coated in something with the consistency of buttermilk. It didn't taste bad at all, in fact I licked the spoon clean, enjoying the balance of sweetness and almond, but it wasn't anything I could present to the chef. It was like a sweet, cheesy soup into which someone had accidentally dropped nuts. Why was the cheese breaking down? Why wasn't it holding together like cake or custard?
Elle Newmark (The Book of Unholy Mischief)
What happened when these people sang was more than just humans hitting notes. The music seemed to come from somewhere deep inside and when their voices united, it felt like goosebumps on the soul. Something like joy bubbled up from inside her and leaked through her eyes.
Chris Fabry (Under a Cloudless Sky)
Since everything in this world is connected, be sure not to live life in a bubble of your own creation.
Topher Pike (101 Quotes That Will Change Your Life: Words to inspire a new way of thinking)
I think it's easy to get lost in your own bubble, and it's really important to sometimes remind yourself that nothing really matters.
Yukimi Nagano
Gravity and time are local, and they are maintaining the balance in the bubbles. However, anomalies in the local gravity fields and times can destroy complete planetary systems and civilizations.
Jozef Simkovic (How to Kiss the Universe: An Inspirational Spiritual and Metaphysical Narrative about Human Origin, Essence and Destiny)
God as the Source of Everything is the stillness and the separation of the Soul from the Source is enabled by bubbling. When God creates an intention to release a new Soul, the process can be very intense, almost violent. That is what was happening in your dreams. You know about the primordial soup and the beginning of the creation of biological life. Likewise, there is a primordial soup for the creation of souls, by Starman.
Jozef Simkovic (How to Kiss the Universe: An Inspirational Spiritual and Metaphysical Narrative about Human Origin, Essence and Destiny)
The bubbles-universes are pulsating. When they shrink too much, Big Crashes and Big Annihilations happen, and the universes are sucked back into the stillness of the Source, by Gardener.
Jozef Simkovic (How to Kiss the Universe: An Inspirational Spiritual and Metaphysical Narrative about Human Origin, Essence and Destiny)