Cease To Amaze Me Quotes

Your ability to remain alive never ceases to amaze me.

It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinion than our own.

I didn't think about being king,” he said, his voice hoarse. Eddis stared. “Your capacity to land yourself in a mess because you didn't think first, Eugenides, will never cease to amaze me. What do you mean you didn't think about being king? Is Attolia going to marry you and move into my library?

You never cease to amaze me, Anastasia. After a day like today - or yesterday, rather - you're not whining or running off into the hills screaming. I am in awe of you. You're very strong." "You're a very good reason to stay," I murmur.

Peabody, you never cease to amaze me." "One day I'll tell you about my granny and her five lovers." "Five lovers isn't abnormal for a woman's lifetime." "Not in her lifetime; last month. All at the same time." Peabody glanced up, deadpan. "She's ninety-eight. I hope to take after her.

His fingers never ceased to amaze me. They could break a man's neck, bandage a wound, and slide sensually across bare skin.

You never cease to amaze me, Trinity. I don’t think there’ll ever be a time that you do. So, yes, I’m in awe of you.

People's capacity for turning dogmatic stupidity into political movements never ceased to amaze me. We've knocked off 99.9% of the human race and somehow the crazies still manage to survive. It just defies the odds.

It never ceases to amaze me the precious time we spend chasing the squirrels around our brains, playing out our dramas, worrying about unwanted facial hair, seeking adoration, justifying our actions, complaining about slow Internet connections, dissecting the lives of idiots, when we are sitting in the middle of a full-blown miracle that is happening right here, right now. We're on a planet that somehow knows how to rotate on its axis and follow a defined path while it hurtles through space! Our hearts beat! We can see! We have love, laughter, language, living rooms, computers, compassion, cars, fire, fingernails, flowers, music, medicine, mountains, muffins!

But it never ceases to amaze me how difficult the things that are supposed to be instinctive really are.

It never ceases to amaze me that in times of amazing human suffering somebody says something that can be so utterly stupid.

It never ceases to amaze me how many folks jump right over "I'll try" to "I can't.

It never ceases to amaze me how much people talk about relationships, think about them, read about them, ask about them - even get in them without a clue how to move them forward.

You know it never ceases to amaze me how people twist your words.I used to et it bother me that I was so misunderstood, but now I realise, I can tell a lot about people by what they CHOOSE to see in me

It never ceases to amaze me when God wants to take someone to the next level in their life and they let fear of the unknown rob them of tremendous blessings. I think there are two common problems with Christians- They are scared to death of being truly free and of God's overwhelming love.

It never ceases to amaze me how cruel some people are. Do you think people would be so merciless and torturous if fish and sharks cried like babies when they felt pain?

One aspect of the human condition that never ceases to amaze me, is the frequecy with which love can turn to hate. But then, a broken heart no longer possesses a penchant for love.

It will never cease to amaze me the way you simultaneously have no patience for people but love to help them,

Even though its common knowledge these days, it never ceases to amaze me that all the richness of our mental life - all our feelings, our emotions, our thoughts, our ambitions, our love life, our religious sentiments and even what each of us regards us his own intimate private self - is simply the activity of these little specks of jelly in your head, in your brain. There is nothing else.

A solitary eyebrow inched up Perry’s forehead. “Your lust for meat never ceases to amaze me.” “Don’t judge,” Dita said around a mouthful of bacon.

One aspect of the human condition that never ceases to amaze me, is the frequency with which love can turn to hate. But then, a broken heart no longer possesses a penchant for love.

Their laughter seemed to have turned into low whispering now. It never ceases to amaze me, the things they find interesting, amusing or unusual. I can only assume they've led very sheltered lives.

It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinion than our own. If a god appeared to us—or a wise human being, even —and prohibited us from concealing our thoughts or imagining anything without immediately shouting it out, we wouldn’t make it through a single day. That’s how much we value other people’s opinions—instead of our own.

There is one thing that I do find extraordinary and it never ceases to amaze me. That even in this day and age, in any day and age, that people always insist on believing their heroes are men

During an especially noisy elementary school assembly I witnessed a common marvel.  Someone spoke,"Once upon a time..." into the mic, and the room hushed.  Such magic never ceases to amaze me.

The simplicity of life never ceases to amaze me, and the many ways we complicate it blows my mind.

It never ceases to amaze me how many people think I kill for fun.” “Don’t you?” “Well, not just for fun.

Ohhh. Humanity, I Love You. You never cease to amaze me. This has been amusing, little ghost, and that was not something I expected. But every playtime must come to an end. This dream is over. - "Playing House" From THE SANDMAN #12

As I say, it never ceases to amaze me how gullible some of our Church members are..." Admonitions for the Priesthood of God", Ensign, Jan 1973

It never ceases to amaze me how adaptable social geometry can be. Within a couple of days I went from being the centre of the circle to an indefinite point outside its circumference.

It never ceases to amaze me how prosaic, pedestrian, unimaginative people can persistently pontificate about classical grammatical structure as though it's fucking rocket science. These must be the same people who hate Picasso, because he couldn't keep the paint inside the lines and the colors never matched the numbers.

Scotland has never ceased to amaze the world with its forward vision, bold action and great educational institutions. Nothing makes me more proud than to promote this wonderful land with all its richness and diversity wherever I go.

I was just finishing up my drink then I was off to get the night bus.' Carol grinned. 'Your sophistication never ceases to amaze me. What's wrong with a taxi?' 'You get a better class of nutter on the night bus. I blend in perfectly

It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinions than our own.

It has never ceased to amaze me how so many people can be tricked into hating people who have never done them any harm.

It never ceased to amaze me just how fast one could lose everything.

Meeting you, in my dreams Kissing you, in the cool breeze Awaken me, to your colors, as to feel my heartbeat. You never cease to amaze me, and see me as I am. I love you and I kiss you For a new day is birthed, through the grace of your hand - Here, is where I am.

I stand amazed at this tree, this life. I stare up in awe at its branches, raising up toward heaven. I wonder about its origins, how a seed so miniscule could grow into a structure so vast and resilient. I'm still examining its genesis. To examine, to question, to discover and evolve--that is what it means to be alive. The day we cease to explore is the day we begin to wilt. I share my testimony in these pages not because I have reached any lasting conclusions, but because I have so much to understand. I am as inquisitive about life now as I was as a child. My story will never be finished, nor should it be. For as long as God grants me breath, I will be living--and writing--my next chapter.

Being, in my own small way, a part of Authority, it never ceases to amaze me how much people believe in it and trust it. I see it from the inside, of course—inefficiencies, stupidities, corruption, bloody-minded ignorance and simple lack of resources to cope with the magnitude of the endless, ever-multiplying problems. But other people see it from the outside. They see the Land Walls. They see the emperor’s head on the coins, with Victory on the reverse. They see the temples. They see soldiers in shining armour. They see, and they believe, that the empire is big, strong, wise, unbeatable.

4. It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinion than our own.

never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinion than our own.

And to think, I was going to fuck you full of nice. You never cease to amaze me, Soraya. It would be my pleasure to leave the gentleman at the door and fuck you four ways dirty.

With your penchant for diminishing a man to little more than a shell of his former manhood, it never ceases to amaze me that you managed to receive all the proposals you did.” ... “It’s my décolletage—when gentlemen stare at my bosom, they don’t hear a word I say. I strongly believe that if trees sprouted breasts tomorrow, they would soon be wearing wedding rings.

Ela reached out for Grego. He refused to go to her. Instead he did exactly what Ender expected, what he had prepared for. Grego turned in Ender’s relaxed grip, flung his arms around the neck of the speaker for the dead, and wept bitterly, hysterically. Ender spoke gently to the others, who watched helplessly. “How could he show his grief to you, when he thought you hated him?” “We never hated Grego,” said Olhado. “I should have known,” said Miro. “I knew he was suffering the worst pain of any of us, but it never occurred to me . . .” “Don’t blame yourself,” said Ender. “It’s the kind of thing that only a stranger can see.” He heard Jane whispering in his ear. “You never cease to amaze me, Andrew, the way you turn people into plasma.

seems to me that it should not be that hard to be both good in bed and a good man, and yet the vast majority of men never cease to amaze me in their refusal to master this particular skill set. Something to make note of for yourself, perhaps.)

It never ceased to amaze me how white scholars could quibble, making simple things more complicated than they really were. What is more central in the Christian Bible than the exodus and Jesus stories and the prophetic call for justice for the poor?

Brave Livia, you never cease to amaze me.” He lifted her chin with his finger. “I’ve never been more thankful to be alive than right now.” After soft kisses, they pressed their hands together palm to palm. The tingling scattered all over Livia’s body, warming her.

It never ceases to amaze me,” [Chrestomanci] said, “the way people always manage to worry about the wrong things. My dear sir, do you realise that you, your son, and four of your pupils, are all likely to be burnt unless we do something? And here are you worrying about timetables.

What never ceased to amaze me and cast a halo around our evening was that ever since we'd met, we'd been thinking along the same lines, and when we feared we weren't or felt we were wrong-footing each other, it was simply because we had learned not to trust that anyone could possibly think and behave the way we did, which was why I was so diffident with him and mistrusted every impulse in myself and couldn't have been happier when I saw how easily we'd shed some of our screens.

People’s capacity for turning dogmatic stupidity into political movements never ceased to amaze me.

I had my pick of three. Never ceases to amaze me, the insane things people will do for money.

It never ceases to amaze me how someone can possess the world or nothing at all, and still have their happiness hinge on the small moments between them and the ones they love.

It never ceases to amaze me that Hollywood made “Pretty Woman,” a love story between a hooker and her john.

Thank you sensei,” I crossed my arms over my chest as she locked up the door. Gram chuckled and said, “Oh Sophie, your sarcasm never ceases to amaze me.

It never ceases to amaze me how foolproof the rule is: the person who cares the least (or pretends to) holds the power.

It never ceases to amaze me how many women struggle with self-belief while the vast majority of men have no trouble with it at all.

It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinions than our own

It never ceased to amaze me how much I could hate the world when I wasn't stoned. It seemed such a hostile place. And yet, get a good blast in me, and my love for humanity was abundant.

It never ceases to amaze me the precious time we spend chasing the squirrels around our brains, playing out our dramas, worrying about unwanted facial hair, seeking adoration, justifying our actions, complaining about slow Internet connections, dissecting the lives of idiots, when we are sitting in the middle of a full-blown miracle that is happening right here, right now.

It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinion than our own. If a god appeared to us—or a wise human being, even—and prohibited us from concealing our thoughts or imagining anything without immediately shouting it out, we wouldn’t make it through a single day. That’s how much we value other people’s opinions—instead of our own.

It never ceased to amaze me how she just had the facts always, in her head. It occured to me that if, or when, she died, a whole load of facts, a body of knowledge, might disappear without a trace.

Taylor intervened, gently extracting Val’s hand from Jason’s. “I tried to get us reservations at Koi, but they were booked this whole weekend. We’ll come up with something else.” At this, Jason rolled his eyes. He whipped out his cell phone, unable to suppress his smile. “You never cease to amaze me, Taylor.” Despite herself, she felt her cheeks blushing. Jason held Taylor’s gaze as he spoke into his phone. “Yeah, Marty, it’s me. Get me a table at Koi tonight. Party of . . .” He looked at her questioningly. “Is this a girls-only night, or are guys invited, too?” “Oh my god, guys are so invited!” Valerie cried out, practically barreling Jason over in her excitement. Over Val’s head, he looked at Taylor teasingly. “I guess that means you’re stuck with me again, Ms. Donovan.” He grinned at Valerie, to explain. “She thinks she hates me.

The Aryan mind never ceases to amaze me," gloated the Nazi. "No wonder we're taking over the world!" "You can have the rest of the globe," Jozef said dryly, "but you shall never have Poland. You may think you're winning now, but Poland will live on. Poland is not yet lost!

Why, Perrin, you must know that I love you.” She stood there, watching his mouth work, then spoke slowly and carefully. “Like a brother, you great wooden-headed lummox! The arrogance of men never ceases to amaze me. You all think everything has to do with you, and every woman has to desire you.

I really thought before, young men despised novels amazingly." "It is amazingly; it may well suggest amazement if they do, for they read nearly as many as women. I myself have read hundreds and hundreds. Do not imagine that you can cope with me in a knowledge of Julias and Louisas. If we proceed to particulars, and engage in the never-ceasing inquiry of 'Have you read this?' and 'Have you read that?' I shall soon leave you as far behind me as -- what shall I say? -- I want an appropriate simile, -- as far as your friend Emily herself left poor Valancourt when she went with her aunt into Italy.

It never ceased to amaze me how much stupid shit people believed in—acupuncture and astrology and crystal healing and homeopathy and naturopathy and ley lines and dowsing and lizard people and black magic and voodoo and ghosts and spirits and angels and demons and mediums and chakras and feng shui and colon cleansing and gods and so on. How come they didn’t realize that all of these things were either misunderstandings or scams that were disproven a long time ago? Although all of us believed in stupid things, such as happiness or hope, some of us really crossed the threshold into pure fucking insanity. And by some, I mean most.

It never ceased to amaze me, until suddenly one day I felt beautiful and holy for having had the courage to hold on to my sanity after all I'd seen and been through, body and soul, in too loud a solitude, and slowly I came to the realization that my work was hurtling me headlong into an infinite field of omnipotence.

For all their weirdness, I LOVE the penis people. I don't understand them. I can't imagine I'll ever learn their language of grunting and scratching, but I'm going to try. If I have to devote my life to learning, I will do it. I can't explain the compulsion that is me thinking about Stephen now. Or just watching a boy walk by and wondering what is going on inside his head. To have him want to play with my hair and take me exciting places. To touch his amazingly fabulous butt and not be arrested for assault. Don't they have a distinct smell? When do they start producing that spicy, manly, different-from-me scent? I don't mean the sweaty, take-a-shower odor, but the yummy soap and a hint of cologne. The kind of scent that makes me want to inhale in their general vicinity just because I can. I get fluttery and gooey and cease to function at higher levels. Like I shut down except for feeling things; like the hot rays of Stephen's manliness and the solid rock of femur and muscle under his denim cargo pants.

What Marcus Aurelius understood is that all of us are slaves in certain respects, even the emperor of Rome. We are slaves to time and chance; we are indentured to fate. “Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own,” he wrote in his Meditations. In another gem, he observed that “it never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinion than our own.

I love skyscrapers. Visiting cities lush with tall buildings has always been a treat for me. The implications of these immense towers are tremendous - a representation of the power of mind over matter. It never ceases to amaze me that within our minds exist the power to transform earthly materials into these colossal giants. For me, a walk among skyscrapers is a pleasant reminder of the boundless potential of human thought.

You’d think walking should be the simplest thing,” she said at last. “Just a question of putting one foot in front of the other. But it never ceases to amaze me how difficult the things that are supposed to be instinctive really are.” She wet her lower lip with her tongue, waiting for more words. “Eating,” she said at last. “That’s another one. Some people have real difficulties with that. Talking too. Even loving. They can all be difficult.

What never ceased to amaze me and cast a halo around our evening was that ever since we’d met, we’d been thinking along the same lines, and when we feared we weren’t or felt we were wrong-footing each other, it was simply because we had learned not to trust that anyone could possibly think and behave the way we did, which was why I was so diffident with him and mistrusted every impulse in myself and couldn’t have been happier when I saw how easily we’d shed some of our screens.

One day a man came running to a Sufi and said, panting, "Hey, they are carrying trays, look over there!" The Sufi answered calmly, "What is it to us? Is it any of my business?" "But they are taking those trays to your house!" the man exclaimed. "Then is it any of your business?" the Sufi said. Unfortunately, people always watch the trays of others. Instead of minding their own business, they pass judgment on other people. It never ceases to amaze me the things they fabricate! Their imagination knows no limit when it comes to suspicion and slander.

A week later Mrs. Blythe, coming up from the village late in the afternoon, paused at the gate of Ingleside in an amazement which temporarily bereft her of the power of motion. An extraordinary sight met her eyes. Round the end of the kitchen burst Mr. Pryor, running as stout, pompous Mr. Pryor had not run in years, with terror imprinted on every lineament—a terror quite justifiable, for behind him, like an avenging fate, came Susan, with a huge, smoking iron pot grasped in her hands, and an expression in her eye that boded ill to the object of her indignation, if she should overtake him. Pursuer and pursued tore across the lawn. Mr. Pryor reached the gate a few feet ahead of Susan, wrenched it open, and fled down the road, without a glance at the transfixed lady of Ingleside. "Susan," gasped Anne. Susan halted in her mad career, set down her pot, and shook her fist after Mr. Pryor, who had not ceased to run, evidently believing that Susan was still full cry after him. "Susan, what does this mean?" demanded Anne, a little severely. "You may well ask that, Mrs. Dr. dear," Susan replied wrathfully. "I have not been so upset in years. That—that—that pacifist has actually had the audacity to come up here and, in my own kitchen, to ask me to marry him. HIM!" Anne choked back a laugh. "But—Susan!

What do you see?” my professor asked as he projected a picture of a small black dot in the middle of a very big white screen. I was sitting in Psychology 101 during my years at Sydney University. We all responded immediately: “A black dot.” I was excited, thinking, If all of the questions are as easy as this one, this course is going to be easy! The prof looked out over the class and paused for several seconds before he asked again, “What do you see?” Thinking he must not have heard us properly the first time, we repeated even more loudly: “A black dot!” Again he paused . . . and then asked the same question a third time. Now he had my attention. And when still, on the third try, none of us provided the correct answer, he explained — and gave me a lesson I will never forget. “You were all so focused on the little black dot in the center of the screen that none of you noticed the dominant image on the screen: the large white space covering the screen top to bottom, left to right.” I couldn’t believe I had missed it. Suddenly it was obvious. There was far more white space than black dot. Whatever I chose to focus on had my attention. There is always much more white space than there is space covered by little black dots — we simply need to recognize and focus on it. In class, that idea seemed like an easy notion — easier than it has proven to be in life. Because the harsh reality is that the black dots of our lives — the trials, challenges, disappointments, obstacles, and hurdles we face as we run — will naturally draw and consume our attention. Our enemy would love to get us to focus on those black dots and convince us they define and shape our lives and determine our destiny. But in the divine relay, we are to fix our eyes on Jesus. He is the “white space” of God’s power at work in the universe, and the trials we face are but a tiny speck, a black dot, in comparison. As we learn to focus on the vastness of God’s eternal, amazing work on this planet, those black dots will cease to blemish our lives.

Are they still friends?” I asked, stirring my tea again. “Not really,” she said. “He came to Paul’s wedding, but I think they drifted apart after that. You know what it’s like—when you’re married with kids, you sort of lose touch with your single pals, don’t you? You don’t have that much in common anymore . . .” I had neither knowledge nor experience of the situation she’d described, but I nodded as though I did, while all the while the same phrase was scrolling across my brain: he is single, he is single, he is single. I took my tea back to my desk. Their laughter seemed to have turned into low whispering now. It never ceases to amaze me, the things they find interesting, amusing or unusual. I can only assume they’ve led very sheltered lives.

It never ceases to amaze me how many Christians, in the North and the South, continue to refer to the former as the “developed” and the latter as the “developing” world. When we in the South use this term to describe ourselves, we are evaluating ourselves by a set of cultural values that are alien to our own cultures, let alone to a Christian world-view! All our normative images and yardsticks of “development” are ideologically loaded. Who dictates that mushrooming TV satellite dishes and skyscrapers are signs of “development”? Who, apart from the automobile industry and the advertising agencies, seriously believes that a country with six-lane highways and multi-story car-parks is more “developed” than one whose chief mode of transport is railways? Does the fact that there are more telephones in Manhattan, New York, than in the whole of sub-Saharan Africa, mean that human communication is more developed in the former than the latter?

I am Nikolai Wroth.” Why did that name sound so familiar? She squinted up at him. “You are a friend of my aunts?” she said, her voice sounding faint. “With one. And it seems only one.” A short laugh with no humor. “Myst is my wife.” “Myst married?” Was that where she’d been? No, no way. “That’s funny.” “The jest’s on me, I’m afraid.” As they reached the manor, he bellowed, “Annika, call off the goddamn wraiths and let me in.” Emma stared up at the sky, seeing swirling red swaths of ragged cloth circling the house. Occasionally she spied a gaunt, skeletal face, but it would change to beauty if you met its eyes. The price for their protection was hair from each of the Valkyrie within. The wraiths wove each lock into a massive braid, and when it grew long enough, they bent all living Valkyrie to their will for a time. “Myst hasn’t returned yet,” someone called from the house. “But you know that, or else you’d both be naked and fornicating on the front lawn.” “The night’s young. Give us time.” To himself, he murmured, “And it was a field a mile away.” “Don’t you have an appointment to go to, vampire?” Emma stiffened. Vampire? But his eyes weren’t red. “Did you follow me?” “No, I was awaiting Myst’s return from shopping and sensed you trace into the woods.” A vampire waiting for Myst? He’d said she was his wife. She sucked in a breath. “You’re the general, aren’t you,” she whispered. “The one Myst had to be pried from.” She thought the corners of his lips quirked. “Is that what you heard?” At her solemn nod, he said, “It was mutual, I assure you.” He glanced away down the drive, as if willing Myst to return, and said almost to himself, “How much lingerie can one female need . . . ?” Suddenly Annika was shrieking, running for her, vowing to kill him ever so slowly. Amazingly, his body was still relaxed. “If you do not cease trying to take off my head, Annika, we will have words.” “What have you done to her?” she cried. “Obviously, I clawed her, bloodied her, and burned her, and now, oddly, I offer her up to you.

Amazing Grace” Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, That saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found; Was blind, but now I see. ’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears relieved; How precious did that grace appear, The hour I first believed. Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already come; ’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home. The Lord has promised good to me, His Word my hope secures; He will my Shield and Portion be, As long as life endures. Yea, when this flesh and heart shall fail, And mortal life shall cease, I shall possess, within the veil, A life of joy and peace. The earth shall soon dissolve like snow, The sun forbear to shine; But God, who called me here below, Will be forever mine. When we’ve been there ten thousand years, Bright shining as the sun, We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise, Than when we’d first begun. Lyrics by John Newton, 1779 “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” (Chorus) Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home. Swing low, sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home. I looked over Jordan, and what did I see? (Coming for to carry me home) A band of angels coming after me. (Coming for to carry me home) (Chorus) If you get there before I do, (Coming for to carry me home) Tell all of my friends, that I'm coming there too. (Coming for to carry me home) (Chorus) Traditional lyrics Wallis Willis, circa 1865 “Battle Hymn of the Republic” Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on. (Chorus) Glory, Glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! Glory, glory, hallelujah! His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps, They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps; I can read His righteous sentence in the dim and flaring lamps: His day is marching on. (Chorus) I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel: "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal"; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, Since God is marching on. (Chorus) He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat; He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat; Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! Be jubilant, my feet! Our God is marching on. (Chorus) In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me. As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, While God is marching on. Lyrics by Julia Ward Howe, 1861

In those days there were two dark elves who lived in a fortress by the sea. They did magic there, and feats of alchemy. Like all dwarfs, they built things, wonderful, remarkable things, in their workshop and their forge. But there were things they had not yet made, and making those things obsessed them. They were brothers, and were called Fjalar and Galar. When they heard that Kvasir was visiting a town nearby, they set out to meet him. Fjalar and Galar found Kvasir in the great hall, answering questions for the townsfolk, amazing all who listened. He told the people how to purify water and how to make cloth from nettles. He told one woman exactly who had stolen her knife, and why. Once he was done talking and the townsfolk had fed him, the dwarfs approached. “We have a question to ask you that you have never been asked before,” they said. “But it must be asked in private. Will you come with us?” “I will come,” said Kvasir. They walked to the fortress. The seagulls screamed, and the brooding gray clouds were the same shade as the gray of the waves. The dwarfs led Kvasir to their workshop, deep within the walls of their fortress. “What are those?” asked Kvasir. “They are vats. They are called Son and Bodn.” “I see. And what is that over there?” “How can you be so wise when you do not know these things? It is a kettle. We call it Odrerir—ecstasy-giver.” “And I see over here you have buckets of honey you have gathered. It is uncapped, and liquid.” “Indeed we do,” said Fjalar. Galar looked scornful. “If you were as wise as they say you are, you would know what our question to you would be before we asked it. And you would know what these things are for.” Kvasir nodded in a resigned way. “It seems to me,” he said, “that if you were both intelligent and evil, you might have decided to kill your visitor and let his blood flow into the vats Son and Bodn. And then you would heat his blood gently in your kettle, Odrerir. And after that you would blend uncapped honey into the mixture and let it ferment until it became mead—the finest mead, a drink that will intoxicate anyone who drinks it but also give anyone who tastes it the gift of poetry and the gift of scholarship.” “We are intelligent,” admitted Galar. “And perhaps there are those who might think us evil.” And with that he slashed Kvasir’s throat, and they hung Kvasir by his feet above the vats until the last drop of his blood was drained. They warmed the blood and the honey in the kettle called Odrerir, and did other things to it of their own devising. They put berries into it, and stirred it with a stick. It bubbled, and then it ceased bubbling, and both of them sipped it and laughed, and each of the brothers found the verse and the poetry inside himself that he had never let out.

It’s a soulful Sunday, somehow I found myself pulling out my journal and started writing a letter to Sensuality. And it goes like this: Sensuality... You’ve opened me up to a world of possibilities and set me on an adventure that has never ceased to amaze me. You have led me through unfounded territories. Through the highest highs and lowest lows I’ve felt your current, sometimes raging like an angry sea and at times blowing as gentle as a cool summer breeze. You’ve filled me with such an insatiable desire, which has been both a curse and a blessing. You’ve sensitized my soul, made it to feel even the most gentle touch of the lightest feather. You daily seduce me into your deep waters, waters so deep I find myself drowning, yet not losing my breath. Sensuality... I love how you soothe me when I’m hurting. I love how you comfort and put me back together when I’m feeling broken. I love how you whisper in my ear and say ‘do not despair, I’m here.’ You uncover my deepest desires and set my soul on fire. You light me up and make me shine like the brightest star on a clear summer night. There’s never a dull moment with you. Just when I think there can’t possibly be more, you show me again and again that there’s always another level... another layer... another blessing. Your mysteries never run out. I’ve come know you like God’s very own presence. Indeed, you are His very own favour to my soul. His divine beauty, passion and wisdom have I come to know through you. Through you I’ve learned how to stand in my worthiness rather than in my shame. That’s why I love you and will forever hold you close... very close... to my heart. Xoxo.

Dear me, I am happy the way you have turned out. I am happy the way you have closed in all the broken parts of your self and made them look like waves cutting across the edges of a shore that seems so distant yet alive. I am happy the way you screamed at every gust and almost fell back with choked tears and yet walked on while your mind told you otherwise. I am happy the way you caressed the numb tears of your heart and poured it out unashamedly for they made you so much more than just a piece of Earth. I am happy the way you believed in Love even when your love left you empty with scars and wounds that are yet unhealed. I am happy the way you left your wounds untouched for you knew the value of Life and the reason to walk on this pit of fire. I am happy the way you learnt to sprinkle rays from your ashes and yet remain unabsorbed in the chained hollows of your once broken soul. I am happy the way you tried to listen to your heart's cry for that led you to a paradise of a world lulled by His Mercy and Love. I am happy the way you chose to rise from your corpse and know that Life means love and light not only for your self but for everyone around. I am happy that you finally realized that your life is complete within itself and you are perfect beyond all your imperfections. I am happy that you found your calling in the horizon of smiles that you leave behind each time you cross path with a fellow Traveller of this voyage called Life. I am happy that in your solitude you found the company of your best friend that lies within. I am happy that even in the night you shine bright with the sun of your soul that knows no bound and trusts no fear. I am happy that you keep trying and pushing off all that puts you behind and never cease to wonder at the marvel of Life. I am happy that you never stopped to gaze at what you lost but stayed amazed at what you gained. I am happy that you keep stumbling through Life, waiting for the light that runs through an endless tunnel of hope, counting through the ever falling leaf of a grey rose that murmurs through an unending story of Hope and Faith. I am happy that you are all that you have become. And I am happy the way you have turned out. - A flicker, that lies inside of you.

The variety of inventive ideas—and ideologies—that people can come up with never ceases to amaze me, especially when they’re stoked by the ultimate drug, self-righteousness.

Tax-Deferred does not mean Tax-Free It never ceases to amaze me when I meet with people who do not know that tax-deferred does not mean tax-free. You mean I have to pay taxes when I take this money!? This is not all mine!? These are common remarks I hear as we are looking at their most recent retirement account statement. Somehow this consideration was missed when they enrolled in the savings plan and each year when they postponed the tax when filing their tax return. I am not a tax professional but I can understand how an accountant or tax preparer wouldn’t think to make sure the client understands that they are postponing taxes and the tax calculation during their working years. I met an accountant that expressed how difficult it is when he gets the client that believed they were ready to leave work only to find out that because of taxes they are coming up a little or a lot short. This happened to one of my relatives that worked at least 30 years as an x-ray technician and then supervisor at a very large hospital. While working, they always had the nice houses, the nice cars, and a nice upper-middle class lifestyle, nothing fancy. After he retired and even though his wife still worked as a school principal, he had to take a sales clerk job at a nearby liquor store so that his family could maintain their lifestyle. I will never forget other relatives joking and laughing about him miscalculating his retirement. I’m certain that his unsuccessful retirement and that of other relatives influenced my interest in retirement planning if for no one else but me. With a limited amount of retirement income, most retirees would prefer to keep their dollars rather than give them to Uncle Sam. Even those with an unlimited source of funds don’t want to pay more taxes than necessary. Fortunately, there are some ways to decrease your tax burden once you’ve done the obvious work of ensuring you’ve taken all the deductions and credits to which you’re entitled when you file your taxes.

Most businesses hustle to create revenue, pay out their various expenses, and with any luck, there’s a little profit left over for the owners.  Here’s what you’re probably learning in business school: Revenue minus expenses equals profits.  Sounds sensible, right?”  He paused for the group of nodding heads.  “Well, it’s not!  It is completely backwards.  It should be taught:  Revenue minus PROFITS equal expenses.” Our chaperoning professors did their best to hide their cloudy faces, but it was clear Mr. X didn’t mind offending them.  “Don’t wait to see if there’s anything left over for a profit.  By carving out a margin before you address expenses, you create a constraint on the resources available.  This constraint unlocks your creativity to meet customers’ needs, streamline operations, and only spend money on that which truly generates value.  There’s no room left for fluff and bloat.  Difficult decisions on how you should run your business become obvious. No longer fat, dumb and happy, maybe you make that extra sales call or hold off on that unnecessary expense.  Business is very competitive, and the difference between the Hall of Fame and the graveyard can be remarkably thin.  Everyone says they want to run a tight ship, but the best way to harness your entrepreneurial verve is to tie your own hands to the yarak mast.  It will turn all of your business SHOULDS into business MUSTS.  I’ve spent a lot of time finding different places to apply the idea of yarak, and it never ceases to amaze me how helpful it is.  So that’s my eighty-twenty secret.  Shh… don’t tell anyone,” he whispered.

love the words of Lamentations 3:22–23: “The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Let these amazing words sink in. If you are God’s child, they describe your identity and your hope. They give you reason to get up in the morning and to continue. They enable you to face and admit how messed up you really are. They allow you to extend mercy to the failing people around you. And they allow you to be comforted by God’s presence rather than be terrified at the thought that he is near. Not only does God lavish on you love that will never cease and grace that will never end, and not only is he great in faithfulness, but the mercy he extends to you and to me is renewed each new morning. It is not tired, stale, irrelevant, worn out, ill-fitting, yesterday mercy. No, God’s mercy is new morning mercy. It is formfitted for the needs of your day. It is sculpted to the shape of the weaknesses, circumstances, and struggles of each and every one of his children. Yes, we all get the same mercy, but it doesn’t come to all of us in the same size and shape. God knows who you are, where you are, and what you’re facing, and in the majestic combination of divine knowledge, power, and compassion, he meets you with just the right mercies for the moment.

Ryan Brownlee,” my name was finally called. I heard loud clapping, followed by barking, and I followed with my eyes to where the sound was coming from. I looked up in the stands and saw that it was Messiah who had done that. For the first time today, he’d gotten me to smile. It’s crazy because as I stood in the line, waiting to go on stage, I listened to the way the other students received praises from their family and friends when their name was called, and I had already made it up in my mind that no one was going to cheer for me. Hell, I had two friends in this entire school, and there was no family there to support me, so I just knew that I wouldn’t get an applause, but like always, Messiah never ceased to amaze me. It’s been months since him and I have been hanging out with each other. In the time that we’ve spent together, he was the one that I considered to be my best friend. It wasn’t Nia or Raven, it was Messiah. Even after all of these months of becoming so close to each other, we still hadn’t taken it there with each other yet. We still hadn’t put a title on what we had going on, other than us being friends, and we still hadn’t done anything further than kissing. We still did music together, but that was pretty much the farthest that things had gone between the two of us.

It never ceases to amaze me: we all love ourselves more than other people, but care more about their opinion than our own.” – Marcus Aurelius

It was like watching a sexy, masculine Mary Poppins and this was his version of her famous carpet bag. His resourcefulness never ceased to amaze me.

You guess?” It will never cease to amaze me the way people understand things in an instant. I, on the other hand, need to take my time, consider the statement from all angles, and if possible, put it back to the person by way of a question to make sure I’ve interpreted accurately. In the back of my mind, I’m always aware that I can get it wrong, and the consequences of this, I’ve learned, can be disastrous.

Understanding.” His breath whispers over my lips. “You never cease to amaze me. After everything, you should want blood… yet your heart remains pure.

You’d think walking should be the simplest thing,” she said at last. “Just a question of putting one foot in front of the other. But it never ceases to amaze me how difficult the things that are supposed to be instinctive really are.” She wet her lower lip with

It never ceased to amaze me how disinterested half the knights were in our own history, in taking advantage of the extraordinary gifts we’d been handed the night we were tapped into Rose & Grave. To them, it was just another privilege they’d been born into, like admission to Eli or their Long Island mansions. Did they have any idea how much more it was to…other people?

SEBASTIAN NEVER CEASED TO AMAZE me. It didn’t matter what everyone else thought about him. It didn’t matter if everyone else thought he was about as snuggly as a cactus.

It would never cease to amaze me at what some elements, under the right conditions, were capable of doing. How just one combination, one meeting, could produce such a storm of energy. But you needed the right combinations for a reaction to occur. The same rule applied to people." CeCe

Is there something you need clarity on now?” He rolled over to his side and rested on his elbow. I did the same and faced him so he would know I was listening. “Well, there’s this girl I met who I can’t seem to get out of my head.” His voice was playful, but I got the sense he was being serious. My pulse quickened. I wanted to be that girl. “Why can’t you get her out of your head?” He inched himself closer to me and looked deep into my eyes. His look wasn’t intense or sensual, just appreciative. “She’s spectacular, and even more amazing, she doesn’t know it.” He leaned in slowly and time ceased to exist. I felt his breath first. It was minty and warm. Then his lips touched mine. Soft and careful. It mirrored his treatment of me, reverence, respect, and only lasted a few seconds. The chill in the air was gone, replaced only by a cocoon of tenderness. My eyes opened. He was staring, his face full of care and concern.

The building was a sniper’s heaven; it was long with dozens of windows and many points of view. Three floors. Someone had put cardboard in each of the panes, dozens of cardboard boxes, making it almost impossible to see inside. The marines kept firing, thousands and thousands of rounds. The barrels of their machine guns glowed and sagged. “Get me another barrel,” one of the kids said. More firing commenced. “I don’t know who he is, but he is very well trained,” said Lieutenant Steven Berch, another one of the platoon leaders. Omohundro was downstairs. He listened to the commotion and called in an airstrike. “Just blow the building to shit,” he said. First a 2,000 -pound bomb, then a 500 -pounder flew into the building and burst. A cloud unfolded upward and revealed a gigantic fire. It rose through the ruined ceiling. Part of a wall collapsed. Crack! Crack! Crack! The marines ducked, cursed loudly and returned fire. No one spotted the sniper this time. The sniper fired back. The marines responded with another blast of gunfire, many thousands of rounds. I stood with some guys at the back of the roof, behind a shed. A blue and green parakeet fluttered out of the sky and hovered in tight circles. Bullets flew past. The parakeet landed on a slumping power line. The marines stared in amazement. “Someone’s pet?” a marine said. I ran across the top of the roof and the sniper took a shot. Crack! The bullet whizzed by. An artillery barrage began. First came the 155 mm shells, each filled with fifty pounds of high explosives. One after the other the shells sailed into the building. Fire swept through the three floors. What was left of the ceiling collapsed in the smoke. Cardboard sailed out of shattered windows. Twenty shells, then thirty, each one large enough to end the world. The shelling ceased and the shooting stopped. The building burned. Remarkably it still had a frame, and parts of its three floors still stood. Suddenly a sound rustled from a storefront on the first floor. The marines tensed. A cat sauntered out, dirty yellow, tail in the air. It walked like a runway model in front of a construction site. “Can I shoot it, sir?” a marine asked his squad leader. “Absolutely not,” came the reply. Crack!

It never ceases to amaze me that whenever generally misunderstood groups of people try to stand up for themselves or simply spread awareness about the thing that makes them different, people sigh in exasperation and assume that said people are demanding some radical change to a system that is oppressing them.

It never ceases to amaze me how hard kneeling is - the joints complaining and my rational mind telling me that I'm too old and that God can hear my prayers from the comfort of my chair. Someday my knees may not let me up. Or I'll catch my death from the draft along the floor. The excuses are valid. Yet there is something amazing about kneeling, the humility and greatness of need that well up within me as I find my place there. It is my way to pray.

It never ceases to amaze me.