Crossing Paths With Someone Quotes

Dare to Be When a new day begins, dare to smile gratefully. When there is darkness, dare to be the first to shine a light. When there is injustice, dare to be the first to condemn it. When something seems difficult, dare to do it anyway. When life seems to beat you down, dare to fight back. When there seems to be no hope, dare to find some. When you’re feeling tired, dare to keep going. When times are tough, dare to be tougher. When love hurts you, dare to love again. When someone is hurting, dare to help them heal. When another is lost, dare to help them find the way. When a friend falls, dare to be the first to extend a hand. When you cross paths with another, dare to make them smile. When you feel great, dare to help someone else feel great too. When the day has ended, dare to feel as you’ve done your best. Dare to be the best you can – At all times, Dare to be!

People accuse me of falling in love easily. It just means that I'm able to see the beauty in most of the people who cross paths with me and I appreciate it for what it is and also for what it isn't. Love is imperfect. Falling for someone's flaws is just as necessary as falling for their strengths. And people like myself, who fall into love easily, are sometimes the loneliest souls around at the end of the day.

Depending on the situation, sometimes you can know a person better in ten minutes than someone you have crossed paths with all your life.

Though life has fated that we never cross paths again, don’t ever feel alone. For we are parallel …. and I will always be by your side.

God already has someone picked out for you, and you don’t have to frantically search for him. When it’s right, God will cross your paths.

Every so often in life, you randomly cross paths with someone that touches you in a way that you really can't explain, but somehow you know that you will never be the same again. A person that is unknowingly, so incredibly beautiful, both inside and out, that they take your breath away. Recently, I met someone exactly like that. As a matter of fact, I'm still not convinced that she isn't an angel here to protect me from myself and the rest of you crazies... these next few songs are for my angel. I hope the rest of you find your angel someday. Just remember, don't let go when you do, even if they try to fly away.

JUST FOR TODAY, I will live through this day only. I will not brood about yesterday or obsess about tomorrow. I will not set far-reaching goals or try to overcome all of my problems at once. I know that I can do something for 24 hours that would overwhelm me if I had to keep it up for a lifetime. JUST FOR TODAY, I will be happy. I will not dwell on thoughts that depress me. If my mind fills with clouds, I will chase them away and fill it with sunshine. JUST FOR TODAY, I will accept what is. I will face reality. I will correct those things that I can correct and accept those I cannot. JUST FOR TODAY, I will improve my mind. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration. I will not be a mental loafer. JUST FOR TODAY, I will make a conscious effort to be agreeable. I will be kind and courteous to those who cross my path, and I'll not speak ill of others. I will improve my appearance, speak softly, and not interrupt when someone else is talking. Just for today, I will refrain from improving anybody but myself. JUST FOR TODAY, I will do something positive to improve my health. If I'm a smoker, I'll quit. If I'm overweight, I will eat healthfully -- if only for today. And not only that, I will get off the couch and take a brisk walk, even if it's only around the block. JUST FOR TODAY, I will gather the courage to do what is right and take the responsibility for my own actions.

It says that whenever people cross our paths, there is always a message for us. Chance encounters do not exist. But how we respond to these encounters determines whether we’re able to receive the message. If we have a conversation with someone who crosses our path and we do not see a message pertaining to our current questions, it does not mean there was no message. It only means we missed it for some reason.

I'd gotten someone killed. The price people seem to pay for crossing my path.

I was the dhampir daughter of the family patriarch, the little known stain on an otherwise immaculate record. Louis-Cesare, on the other hand, was vamp royalty. The only Child of Mircea’s younger, and far stranger, brother Radu, he was a first-level master--the highest and rarest vampire rank. A month ago, the prince and the pariah had crossed paths because we had one thing in common: we were very good at killing things. And Mircea’s bug-eyed crazy brother Vlad had needed killing if anyone ever had. The collaboration hadn’t exactly been stress free, but to my surprise, we eventually sorted things out and got the job done. By the end, I’d even started to think that it was kind of nice, having someone to watch my back for a change. Sometimes, I could be really stupid.

FORBIDDEN Pain without learning is forbidden, waking up one day not knowing what to do, being afraid of your memories. It is forbidden not to smile at problems, not to fight for what you want, to abandon all because of fears, not to realize your dreams. It is forbidden not to show your love, to be ashamed of your tears, to not laugh with children, to make someone else pay your debts, bad humor. It is forbidden to forget your friends, to not try to understand why they live far away, to treat people as disposable, to call them only when you need them. It is forbidden to not be yourself in front of others, pretending around people you don’t care about, trying to be funny just so you'll be remembered, to forget about all the people who love you. It is forbidden not to do things for yourself, to be afraid of life and its commitments, to not to live each day as if it were your last. It forbidden to take someone out without having fun, to forget their eyes, their laugh, to not respect love even if it is past, just because your paths have stopped crossing, to forget your past and only live in the moment. It is forbidden not to try to understand people, to think that other’s lives are worth more than yours, to not know that each one of us has our own way and our own happiness. It is forbidden not create your own story, to have no time for people who need you, to not understand what life gives to you, and that it can also be taken away. It is forbidden not find your happiness, to not live your life with a positive attitude, to not think we can do better and be better, to feel that without you, this world would still be the same...

You're safe with me, Mira. And I'm safe with you." He kissed her again to prove it. And when the clock struck one - that lone, ominous tone hovering in the dark - they were still kissing. Her razor blade had snagged his shirt and nicked his chest, and they'd ended up lying in the grass, hidden inside a shadow, ignoring their names whenever someone called them. He traced her mouth again and again, like he still couldn't believe it was real. There would always be a part of him she couldn't know. A secret place where his heartbreak was stored, where lost innocence and regret filled the air like smoke. She had no desire to open that door ... but she didn't know if that would change one day. If the key would tempt her, if a fairy would manipulate her or she would just be curious. But she had to believe she could be strong enough to resist. That what she wanted - what they both wanted - mattered more than the path that had been laid out for them. She let her hand slip under his shirt to touch the heart mark on his back, and he brought her other hand to his lips, and kissed every finger he'd entrusted with the key. He was so much more than his curse, and she was so much more than the girl who could betray him. Together ... they could be anything.

They will not know what the future holds or if their paths will ever cross again. But they will feel that - for one night at least - someone has seen them as they have always wanted to be seen. And that will be enough.

Have you ever stopped to think in your own personal life why God permits certain people to cross your path? Do you wish that you had never met certain people? Are there people whom you would call your enemies? Someone may have caused you sorrow, but it is all for His purpose. God has permitted all that for a particular purpose. Learn to recognize the hand of God in your life.

There is always someone in the world waiting for someone else, whether in the middle of the desert or in the heart of some big city. And when these two people’s paths cross and their eyes meet, the whole of the past and the whole of the future lose all importance,and there only exists that moment and that incredible certainty that everything under the Sun was written by the very same Hand. The Hand that awakens Love and creates a sister soul for everyone who works, rests and seeks treasures under the Sun. Were it not for this, the dreams of the human race would make no sense.

If you’re on the path of right, and someone crosses it with wrong, you don’t need to turn. Build a bridge over their path and continue on your way.

I do believe that sometimes—whether it’s fate or accidental—we cross paths with someone who shatters us on a fundamental level and remakes us into a better version of ourselves.

I was only thinking how strange it is. To think how many people we cross paths with in our lives. How someone like me has found someone like you.

The story of my life doesn't exist. Does not exist. There's never any center to it. No path, no line. There are great spaces where you pretend there used to be someone, but it's not true, there was no one. The story of one small part of my youth I've already written, more or less- I mean, nought to give a glimpse of it. Of this part, I mean, the part about the crossing of the river. What I'm doing now is both different and the same. Before, I spoke of clear periods, those on which the light fell. Now I'm talking about the hidden stretches of that same youth, of certain facts, feelings, events that I buried.

We cross paths with certain people in our tangled lives for a reason. It's not by chance, not an accident but it's on a purpose. You were made to be part of someone's life for it was written long before you were born."- Elizabeth's Quotes

Let me begin with a caveat to any and all who find these pages. Do not trust large bodies of water, and do not cross them. If you, dear reader, have an African hue and find yourself led toward water with vanishing shores, seize your freedom by any means necessary. And cultivate distrust of the colour pink. Pink is taken as the colour of innocence, the colour of childhood, but as it spills across the water in the light of the dying sun, do not fall into its pretty path. There, right underneath, lies a bottomless graveyard of children, mothers and men. I shudder to imagine all the Africans rocking in the deep. Every time I have sailed the seas, I have had the sense of gliding over the unburied. Some people call the sunset a creation of extraordinary beauty, and proof of God's existence. But what benevolent force would bewitch the human spirit by choosing pink to light the path of a slave vessel? Do not be fooled by the pretty colour, and do not submit to its beckoning.

So what have I learned that is helpful? Well, if you are white, like I am, you can't get rid of the privilege you have, but you can use it for good. Don't say I don't even notice race! like it's a positive thing. Instead, recognize that differences between people make it harder for some to cross a finish line, and create fair paths to success for everyone that accommodate those differences. Educate yourself. If you think someone's voice is being ignored, tell others to listen. If your friend makes a racist joke, call him out on it, instead of just going along with it. If the two former skinheads I met can have such a complete change of heart, I feel confident that ordinary people can, too.

I hate that crossing paths with someone from my past can throw me back to the darkness and sadness that may always be a part of me.

He said it was a quintessential Pal moment—being out and about in the universe, and then unexpectedly crossing paths with someone from home base.

There is only one sin, only one, and that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife's right of a husband, you rob his children of a father. When you lie you steal someone's right to truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no more wretched act than stealing. A man who takes what is not his to take, be it life or a loaf of naan, I spit on such a man. And if I ever cross paths with him, God help him.

Would you teach me, Seth?’ Seth smiled and leaned back in his seat. ‘You do realise, of course, that you have no idea what you ask of me?’ Seth replied after a moment. ‘Of course,’ Christopher replied quietly. ‘Could you tell me?’ ‘No. That is the problem you see,’ Seth said. ‘Magic is something you can never prepare someone for. Magic will make you, Christopher. It will find all the secret empty places of longing in you and fill them more surely than any other love. And magic will break your heart.’ A slight, rather sad smile crossed Christopher’s face for a moment. ‘I know what you’re thinking. You think your heart is already broken, you think that this crooked and winding way is the only path left for you now. But you’re wrong. The heart breaks like every wave on the beach and there’s a darkness you’ll have to pass through that you can’t even see from where you are now.

She had finally come so far that she seemed to be seeing her own life from the uppermost summit of a mountain pass. Now her path led down into the darkening valley, but first she had been allowed to see that in the solitude of the cloister and in the doorway of death someone was waiting for her who had always seen the lives of people the way villages look from a mountain crest. He had seen sin and sorrow, love and hatred in their hearts, the way the wealthy estates and poor hovels, the bountiful acres and the abandoned wastelands are all borne by the same earth. And he had come down among them, his feet had wandered among the lands, stood in the castles and in huts, gathering the sorrows and sins of the rich and the poor, and lifting them high up with him on the cross." (1081)

It is not safe for a woman to be traveling on her own." "I was perfectly safe until you crossed my path." "Well may you see it that way,but if I hadn't come along,someone else would have and you could be in great difficulty right now." If she hadn't known it would hurt, she might have laughed. As it was, she had to content herself with a grimace. "Oh, you mean I could have been chased over a cliff?

Make no mistake in denying it…magic is real. It happens when you touch her hand for the first time and your palms mysteriously sweat, it transpires within those sustained seconds just before your lips touches hers your heart miraculously races, and it occurs when you cross paths with someone you never met or knew, but have always waited for and instantly know.

Go out of your way to do something nice today—open a door, leave a good tip, or share a beautiful smile with someone who crosses your path. Trust that God will speak to them through your kindness.

It's likely that every day presents an opportunity for you to practice radical hospitality to someone with whom you cross paths. There is no shortage of people who could use the fit of a caring, welcoming person in their life. How awesome would it be if, in a time of need, the first thing people would say is, "I need a Christian!" If you expect to be that person, you'll be surprised at how often the opportunities come along for you to show love through radical hospitality.

Now her path led down into the darkening valley, but first she had been allowed to see that in the solitude of the cloister and in the doorway of death someone was waiting for her who had always seen the lives of people the way villages look from a mountain crest. He had seen sin and sorrow, love and hatred in their hearts, the way the wealthy estates and poor hovels, the bountiful acres and the abandoned wastelands are all borne by the same earth. And he had come down among them, his feet had wandered among the lands, stood in castles and in huts, gathering the sorrows and sins of the rich and the poor, and lifting them high up with him on the cross. Not my happiness or my pride, but my sin and my sorrow, oh sweet Lord of mine. She looked up at the crucifix, where it hung high overhead, above the triumphal arch.

From a very early age Edison became used to doing things for himself, by necessity. His family was poor, and by the age of twelve he had to earn money to help his parents. He sold newspapers on trains, and traveling around his native Michigan for his job, he developed an ardent curiosity about everything he saw. He wanted to know how things worked—machines, gadgets, anything with moving parts. With no schools or teachers in his life, he turned to books, particularly anything he could find on science. He began to conduct his own experiments in the basement of his family home, and he taught himself how to take apart and fix any kind of watch. At the age of fifteen he apprenticed as a telegraph operator, then spent years traveling across the country plying his trade. He had no chance for a formal education, and nobody crossed his path who could serve as a teacher or mentor. And so in lieu of that, in every city he spent time in, he frequented the public library. One book that crossed his path played a decisive role in his life: Michael Faraday’s two-volume Experimental Researches in Electricity. This book became for Edison what The Improvement of the Mind had been for Faraday. It gave him a systematic approach to science and a program for how to educate himself in the field that now obsessed him—electricity. He could follow the experiments laid out by the great Master of the field and absorb as well his philosophical approach to science. For the rest of his life, Faraday would remain his role model. Through books, experiments, and practical experience at various jobs, Edison gave himself a rigorous education that lasted about ten years, up until the time he became an inventor. What made this successful was his relentless desire to learn through whatever crossed his path, as well as his self-discipline. He had developed the habit of overcoming his lack of an organized education by sheer determination and persistence. He worked harder than anyone else. Because he was a consummate outsider and his mind had not been indoctrinated in any school of thought, he brought a fresh perspective to every problem he tackled. He turned his lack of formal direction into an advantage. If you are forced onto this path, you must follow Edison’s example by developing extreme self-reliance. Under these circumstances, you become your own teacher and mentor. You push yourself to learn from every possible source. You read more books than those who have a formal education, developing this into a lifelong habit. As much as possible, you try to apply your knowledge in some form of experiment or practice. You find for yourself second-degree mentors in the form of public figures who can serve as role models. Reading and reflecting on their experiences, you can gain some guidance. You try to make their ideas come to life, internalizing their voice. As someone self-taught, you will maintain a pristine vision, completely distilled through your own experiences—giving you a distinctive power and path to mastery.

Aren’t you afraid, though?” Ayumi asked Aomame. “Afraid of what?” “Don’t you see? You and he might never cross paths again. Of course, a chance meeting could occur, and I hope it happens. I really do, for your sake. But realistically speaking, you have to see there’s a huge possibility you’ll never be able to meet him again. And even if you do meet, he might already be married to somebody else. He might have two kids. Isn’t that so? And in that case, you may have to live the rest of your life alone, never being joined with the one person you love in all the world. Don’t you find that scary? Aomame stared at the red wine in her glass. “Maybe I do,” she said. “But at least I have someone I love.

I don’t believe souls are split down the middle before they’re stuffed into our bodies, or that it’s our life’s goal to hunt down the missing half of ourselves, if that’s what you mean.” He tapped his tongs against the fryer. “I do believe that sometimes—whether it’s fate or accidental—we cross paths with someone who shatters us on a fundamental level and remakes us into a better version of ourselves.

There was someone in his little attic room. Geralt knew it before he even reached the door, sensing it through the barely perceptible vibration of his medallion. He blew out the oil lamp which had lit his path up the stairs, pulled the dagger from his boot, slipped it into the back of his belt and pressed the door handle. The room was dark. But not for a witcher. He was deliberately slow in crossing the threshold; he closed the door behind him carefully. The next second he dived at the person sitting on his bed, crushed them into the linen, forced his forearm under their chin and reached for his dagger. He didn't pull it out. Something wasn't right. “Not a bad start,” she said in a muffled voice, lying motionless beneath him. “I expected something like this, but I didn't think we'd both be in bed so quickly. Take your hand from my throat please.” “It's

Tithing is a way to right the ship quickly. Instead of spending every dime, deny yourself a little and save ten percent of your income one month. Then just wait for an intuition of whom to give it to. You'll get one. Someone who needs an angel will cross your path, and you'll get the thrill of having the means to be of service. And again, it will just accelerate the flow of help coming back to you. You'll get more opportunities to be successful.

An ‘Initiate’ is someone who has ‘crossed the boundary (or threshold).’ The greatest Initiates have crossed the boundary of death and have returned — they have been called the twice born, the born again, or those born from above. These Initiates are often referred to as the Enlightened. However, the spiritual voyage consists of many steps, and thus in reality there are many initiations that the seeker experiences on the path to knowing the Divine. Each initiation is the badge of having overcome some challenge or barrier.

But I stay. I stay because I will not be someone who abandons my principles as soon as they become inconvenient. I will not be someone who says that certain things have to be done… as long as somebody else does them.” Her mom crossed the remaining distance to Becca and took Becca’s face in her hands. “This is the most important thing I can teach you. Living by your principles will always be the harder path. But you have to do it anyway. You have to do what’s right no matter how hard it gets, or one day you’ll find out you’ve become somebody you can’t live with.

Don’t Catch the Ball Throughout your life, you’re going to cross paths with a lot of people eager to goad you into conflict or confrontation. There will be times when, despite your best efforts, you may find yourself getting baited into an argument, pulled into a game, or sucked into an agenda. And since we can’t always avoid these hot zones, we need to have strategies in place to handle them. This section is about managing those specific situations; the daily annoyances and problems that arise at work, school, or with our family and friends. Despite Newton’s theory, not every action needs a reaction. Just because someone is demanding your attention doesn’t mean you

Dystopia is not always an unhappy place. There are, as it happens, certain dystopias in which it's perfectly possible to be happy as a clam. Vast numbers of people go through life never even realizing that they're in one, might live through the real-time decay from freedom to tyranny and never notice the change. It basically comes down to wanderlust. Imagine your life as a path extending through time and society. To either side are fences festooned with signs: No Trespassing, Keep Off the Grass, Thou Shalt Not Kill. These are the constraints on your behavior, the legal limits of acceptable conduct. You are free to wander anywhere between these barriers-- but cross one and you risk the weight of the law. Now imagine that someone starts moving those fences closer together. How you react-- whether you even notice-- depends entirely on how much you wandered beforehand. A lot of people never deviate from the center of the path their whole lives, would never understand what all those fringe radicals are whining about; after all, *their* lives haven't changed any. It makes no difference to them whether the fences are right on the shoulder or out past the horizon. For the rest of us, though, it's only a matter of time before you wander back to a point you've always been free to visit in the past, only to find a fence suddenly blocking your way.

I wonder where they’ll go,” Jake continued, frowning a little. “There’s wolves out there, and all sorts of beasts.” “No self-respecting wolf would dare to confront that duenna of hers, not with that umbrella she wields,” Ian snapped, but he felt a little uneasy. “Oho!” said Jake with a hearty laugh. “So that’s what she was? I thought they’d come to court you together. Personally, I’d be afraid to close my eyes with that gray-haired hag in bed next to me.” Ian was not listening. Idly he unfolded the note, knowing that Elizabeth Cameron probably wasn’t foolish enough to have written it in her own girlish, illegible scrawl. His first thought as he scanned the neat, scratchy script was that she’d gotten someone else to write it for her…but then he recognized the words, which were strangely familiar, because he’d spoken them himself: Your suggestion has merit. I’m leaving for Scotland on the first of next month and cannot delay the trip again. Would prefer the meeting take place there, in any case. A map is enclosed for direction to the cottage. Cordially-Ian. “God help that silly bastard if he ever crosses my path!” Ian said savagely. “Who d’you mean?” “Peters!” “Peters?” Jake said, gaping. “Your secretary? The one you sacked for mixin’ up all your letters?” “I should have strangled him! This is the note I meant for Dickinson Verley. He sent it to Cameron instead.” In furious disgust Ian raked his hand through his hair. As much as he wanted Elizabeth Cameron out of his sight and out of his life, he could not cause two women to spend the night in their carriage or whatever vehicle they’d brought, when it was his fault they’d come here. He nodded curtly to Jake. “Go and get them.” “Me? Why me?” “Because,” Ian said bitterly, walking over to the cabinet and putting away the gun, “it’s starting to rain, for one thing. For another, if you don’t bring them back, you’ll be doing the cooking.” “If I have to go after that woman, I want a stout glass of something fortifying first. They’re carrying a trunk, so they won’t get much ahead of me.” “On foot?” Ian asked in surprise. “How did you think they got up here?” “I was too angry to think.

What I listen for is someone who really wanted something that could be obtained only through taking the risk, whether that risk was big or small. It's not even important that she managed the risk skillfully; it's only important that she knew it was there, respected it, but took it anyway. Most people wander through life, carelessly taking whatever risk crosses their path without compensation, but never consciously accepting extra risk to pick up the money and other good things lying all around them. Other people reflexively avoid every risk or grab every loose dollar without caution. I don't mean to belittle these strategies; I'm sure they make sense to the people who pursue them. I just don't understand them myself. I do know that none of these people will be successful traders.

Adelia began to get cross. Why was it women who were to blame for everything—everything, from the Fall of Man to these blasted hedges? “We are not in a labyrinth, my lord,” she said clearly. “Where are we, then?” “It’s a maze.” “Same difference.” Puffing at the horse: “Get back, you great cow.” “No, it isn’t. A labyrinth has only one path and you merely have to follow it. It’s a symbol of life or, rather, of life and death. Labyrinths twist and turn, but they have a beginning and an end, through darkness into light.” Softening, and hoping that he would, too, she added, “Like Ariadne’s. Rather beautiful, really.” “I don’t want mythology, mistress, beautiful or not, I want to get to that sodding tower. What’s a maze when it’s at home?” “It’s a trick. A trick to confuse. To amaze.” “And I suppose Mistress Clever-boots knows how to get us out?” “I do, actually.” God’s rib, he was sneering at her, sneering. She’d a mind to stay where she was and let him sweat. “Then in the name of Christ, do it.” “Stop bellowing at me,” she yelled at him. “You’re bellowing.” She saw his teeth grit in the pretense of a placatory smile; he always had good teeth. Still did. Between them, he said, “The Bishop of Saint Albans presents his compliments to Mistress Adelia and please to escort him out of this hag’s hole, for the love of God. How will you do it?” “My business.” Be damned if she’d tell him. Women were defenseless enough without revealing their secrets. “I’ll have to take the lead.” She stumped along in front, holding Walt’s mount’s reins in her right hand. In the other was her riding crop, which she trailed with apparent casualness so that it brushed against the hedge on her left. As she went, she chuntered to herself. Lord, how disregarded I am in this damned country. How disregarded all women are. ... Ironically, the lower down the social scale women were, the greater freedom they had; the wives of laborers and craftsmen could work alongside their men—even, sometimes, when they were widowed, take over their husband’s trade. Adelia trudged on. Hag’s hole. Grendel’s mother’s entrails. Why was this dreadful place feminine to the men lost in it? Because it was tunneled? Womb-like? Is this woman’s magic? The great womb? Is that why the Church hates me, hates all women? Because we are the source of all true power? Of life? She supposed that by leading them out of it, she was only confirming that a woman knew its secrets and they did not. Great God, she thought, it isn't a question of hatred. It’s fear. They are frightened of us. And Adelia laughed quietly, sending a suggestion of sound reverberating backward along the tunnel, as if a small pebble was skipping on water, making each man start when it passed him. “What in hell was that?” Walt called back stolidly, “Reckon someone’s laughing at us, master.” “Dear God.

Describe the defeated ones,” said a merchant, when he saw that the Copt had finished speaking. And he answered: The defeated are those who never fail. Defeat means that we lose a particular battle or war. Failure does not allow us to go on fighting. Defeat comes when we fail to get something we very much want. Failure does not allow us to dream. Its motto is: “Expect nothing and you won’t be disappointed.” Defeat ends when we launch into another battle. Failure has no end; it is a lifetime choice. Defeat is for those who, despite their fears, live with enthusiasm and faith. Defeat is for the valiant. Only they will know the honor of losing and the joy of winning. I am not here to tell you that defeat is part of life; we all know that. Only the defeated know Love. Because it is in the realm of Love that we fight our first battles—and generally lose. I am here to tell you that there are people who have never been defeated. They are the ones who never fought. They managed to avoid scars, humiliations, and feelings of helplessness, as well as those moments when even warriors doubt the existence of God. Such people can say with pride: “I never lost a battle.” On the other hand, they will never be able to say: “I won a battle.” Not that they care. They live in a universe in which they believe they are invulnerable; they close their eyes to injustices and to suffering; they feel safe because they do not have to deal with the daily challenges faced by those who risk stepping out beyond their own boundaries. They have never heard the words “good-bye” or “I’ve come back. Embrace me with the fervor of someone who, having lost me, has found me again.” Those who were never defeated seem happy and superior, masters of a truth they never had to lift a finger to achieve. They are always on the side of the strong. They’re like hyenas, who eat only the leavings of lions. They teach their children: “Don’t get involved in conflicts; you’ll only lose. Keep your doubts to yourself and you’ll never have any problems. If someone attacks you, don’t get offended or demean yourself by hitting back. There are more important things in life.” In the silence of the night, they fight their imaginary battles: their unrealized dreams, the injustices to which they turned a blind eye, the moments of cowardice they managed to conceal from other people—but not from themselves—and the love that crossed their path with a sparkle in its eyes, the love God had intended for them, but which they lacked the courage to embrace. And they promise themselves: “Tomorrow will be different.” But tomorrow comes and the paralyzing question surfaces in their mind: “What if it doesn’t work out?” And so they do nothing. Woe to those who were never beaten! They will never be winners in this life.

Through the buzzing in her ears, she heard new sounds from outside, shouting and cursing. All of a sudden the carriage door was wrenched open and someone vaulted inside. Evie squirmed to see who it was. Her remaining breath was expelled in a faint sob as she saw a familiar glitter of dark golden hair. It was Sebastian as she had never seen him before, no longer detached and self-possessed, but in the grip of bone-shaking rage. His eyes were pale and reptilian as his murderous gaze fastened on Eustace, whose breath began to rattle nervously behind the pudgy ladder of his chin. “Give her to me,” Sebastian said, his voice hoarse with fury. “Now, you pile of gutter sludge, or I’ll rip your throat out.” Seeming to realize that Sebastian was eager to carry out the threat, Eustace released his chokehold on Evie. She scrambled toward Sebastian and took in desperate pulls of air. He caught her with a low murmur, his hold gentle but secure. “Easy, love. You’re safe now.” She felt the tremors of rage that ran in continuous thrills through his body. Sebastian sent a lethal glance to Eustace, who was trying to gather his jellylike mass into the far end of the seat. “The next time I see you,” Sebastian said viciously, “no matter what the circumstances, I’m going to kill you. No law, nor weapon, nor God Himself will be able to stop it from happening. So if you value your life, don’t let your path cross mine again.” Leaving Eustace in a quivering heap of speechless fear, Sebastian hauled Evie from the vehicle. She clung to him, still trying to regain her breath as she glanced apprehensively around the scene. It appeared that Cam had been alerted to the fracas, and was keeping her two uncles at bay. Brook was on the ground, while Peregrine was staggering backward from some kind of assault, his beefy countenance turning ruddy from enraged surprise. Swaying as her feet touched the ground, Evie turned her face into her husband’s shoulder. Sebastian was literally steaming, the chilly air striking off his flushed skin and turning his breath into puffs of white. He subjected her to a brief but thorough inspection, his hands running lightly over her, his gaze searching her pale face. His voice was astonishingly tender. “Are you hurt, Evie? Look up at me, love. Yes. Sweetheart… did they do you any injury?” “N-no.” Evie stared at him dazedly. “My uncle Peregrine,” she whispered, “he’s very p-powerful—” “I’ll handle him,” he assured her, and called out to Cam. “Rohan! Come fetch her.” The young man obeyed instantly, approaching Evie with long, fluid strides. He spoke to her with a few foreign-sounding words, his voice soothing her overwrought nerves. She hesitated before going with him, casting a worried glance at Sebastian. “It’s all right,” he said without looking at her, his icy gaze locked on Peregrine’s bullish form. “Go.

How about when you feel as if you are at a treacherous crossing, facing an area of life that hasn’t even been on the map until recently. Suddenly there it is, right in front of you. And so the time and space in between while you first get over the shock of it, and you have to figure out WHAT must be done feels excruciating. It’s a nightmare you can’t awaken from. You might remember this time as a kind of personal D-day, as in damage, devastation, destruction, damnation, desolation – maybe a difficult divorce, or even diagnosis of some formidable disease. These are the days of our lives that whole, beautiful chapters of life go up in flames. And all you can do is watch them burn. Until you feel as though you are left only with the ashes of it all. It is at this moment you long for the rescue and relief that only time can provide. It is in this place, you must remember that in just 365 days – you're at least partially healed self will be vastly changed, likely for the better. Perhaps not too unlike a caterpillar’s unimaginable metamorphosis. Better. Stronger. Wiser. Tougher. Kinder. More fragile, more firm, all at the same time as more free. You will have gotten through the worst of it – somehow. And then it will all be different. Life will be different. You will be different. It might or might not ever make sense, but it will be more bearable than it seems when you are first thrown, with no warning, into the kilns of life with the heat stoked up – or when you get wrapped up, inexplicably, through no choice of your own, in a dark, painfully constricting space. Go ahead, remind yourself as someone did earlier, who was trying miserably to console you. It will eventually make you a better, stronger person. How’d they say it? More beautiful on the inside… It really will, though. That’s the kicker. Even if, in the hours of your agony, you would have preferred to be less beautiful, wise, strong, or experienced than apparently life, fate, your merciless ex, or a ruthless, biological, or natural enemy that has attacked silently, and invisibly - has in mind for you. As will that which your God feels you are capable of enduring, while you, in your pitiful anguish, are yet dubious of your own ability to even endure, not alone overcome. I assure you now, you will have joy and beauty, where there was once only ashes. In time. Perhaps even more than before. It’s so hard to imagine and believe it when it’s still fresh, and so, so painful. When it hurts too much to even stand, or think, or feel anything. When you are in the grip of fear, and you remember the old familiar foe, or finally understand, firsthand, in your bones, what that actually means.

Much to Sophie’s extreme lack of surprise, Benedict showed up at his mother’s home the following morning for breakfast. Sophie should have been able to avoid him completely, except that he was loitering in the hall as she tried to make her way down to the kitchen, where she planned to take her morning meal with the rest of the servants. “And how was your first night at Number Five, Bruton Street?” he inquired, his smile lazy and masculine. “Splendid,” Sophie replied, stepping aside so that she might make a clean half circle around him. But as she stepped to her left, he stepped to his right, effectively blocking her path. “I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said smoothly. Sophie stepped back to her right. “I was,” she said pointedly. Benedict was far too debonair to step back to his left, but he somehow managed to turn and lean against a table in just the right way to once again block her movement. “Have you been given a tour of the house?” he asked. “By the housekeeper.” “And of the grounds?” “There are no grounds.” He smiled, his brown eyes warm and melting. “There’s a garden.” “About the size of a pound note,” she retorted. “Nonetheless . . .” “Nonetheless,” Sophie cut in, “I have to eat breakfast.” He stepped gallantly aside. “Until next time,” he murmured. And Sophie had the sinking feeling that next time would come quickly indeed. Thirty minutes later, Sophie edged slowly out of the kitchen, half-expecting Benedict to jump out at her from around a corner. Well, maybe not half-expecting. Judging from the way she couldn’t quite breathe, she was probably whole-expecting. But he wasn’t there. She inched forward. Surely he would come bounding down the stairs at any moment, ambushing her with his very presence. Still no Benedict. Sophie opened her mouth, then bit her tongue when she realized she’d been about to call out his name. “Stupid girl,” she muttered. “Who’s stupid?” Benedict asked. “Surely not you.” Sophie nearly jumped a foot. “Where did you come from?” she demanded, once she’d almost caught her breath. He pointed to an open doorway. “Right there,” he answered, his voice all innocence. “So now you’re jumping out at me from closets?” “Of course not.” He looked affronted. “That was a staircase.” Sophie peered around him. It was the side staircase. The servants’ staircase. Certainly not anyplace a family member would just happen to be walking. “Do you often creep down the side staircase?” she asked, crossing her arms. He leaned forward, just close enough to make her slightly uncomfortable, and, although she would never admit it to anyone, barely even herself, slightly excited. “Only when I want to sneak up on someone.” -Benedict & Sophie

Lottie pressed her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. She had to stop him now, before her will was completely demolished. “No. Please stop. I’m sorry.” His hand slid from her blouse, and he touched her damp lips with his fingers. “Have I frightened you?” he whispered. Lottie shook her head, somehow resisting the urge to curl into his embrace like a sun-warmed cat. “No… I’ve frightened myself.” For some reason her admission made him smile. His fingers moved to her throat, tracing the fragile line with a sensitivity that made her breath catch. Tugging the peasant blouse back up to her shoulder, he retied the frayed ribbon that secured the neckline. “Then I’ll stop,” he said. “Come— I’ll take you to the house.” He stayed close to her as they continued through the forest, occasionally moving to push a branch out of the way, or taking her hand to guide her over a rough place on the path. As familiar as she was with the woods of Stony Cross Park, Lottie had no need of his assistance. But she accepted the help with demur. And she did not protest when he paused again, his lips finding hers easily in the darkness. His mouth was hot and sweet as he kissed her compulsively… swift kisses, languid ones, kisses that ranged from intense need to wicked flirtation. Drugged with pleasure, Lottie let her hands wander to the thick dishevelment of his hair, the iron-hard nape of his neck. When the blistering heat rose to an untenable degree, Lord Sydney groaned softly. “Charlotte…” “Lottie,” she told him breathlessly. He pressed his lips to her temple and cuddled her against his powerful body as if she were infinitely fragile. “I never thought I would find someone like you,” he whispered. “I’ve looked for you so long… needed you…” Lottie shivered and dropped her head to his shoulder. “This isn’t real,” she said faintly. His lips touched her neck, finding a place that made her arch involuntarily. “What’s real, then?” She gestured to the yew hedge that bordered the estate garden. “Everything back there.” His arms tightened, and he spoke in a muffled voice. “Let me come to your room. Just for a little while.” Lottie responded with a trembling laugh, knowing exactly what would happen if she allowed that. “Absolutely not.” Soft, hot kisses drifted over her skin. “You’re safe with me. I would never ask for more than you were willing to give.” Lottie closed her eyes, her head spinning. “The problem is,” she said ruefully, “I am willing to give you entirely too much.” She felt the curve of his smile against her cheek. “Is that a problem?” “Oh, yes.” Pulling away from him, Lottie held her hands to her hot face and sighed unsteadily. “We must stop this. I don’t trust myself with you.” “You shouldn’t,” he agreed hoarsely. -Lottie & Nick

Struggling to lift up his own weight, he staggered down a dirt path. Pain radiated throughout his body, his spirit crushed by insult and mockery. Despite the excruciating affliction he continued to walk, knowing that his destination would led him to even more suffering. Heavy, splintering wood pressed against his back, joining in with gravity to pull this man to the dusty ground. Anguish gripped his heart, yet he walked. Blood dripped from raw wounds, yet he carried on. There was no rescue plan. This man knew that he would experience death, but only after the shock of agony pierced his flesh. Still, he walked on, headed towards the place where he would breathe his last. His motivation was you.   Jesus Christ was sacrificed for you and for all mankind. He endured harsh treatment that led to death on the cross, providing people redemption from sin and the only way to be reconciled to God. He made that walk in humiliation regardless of whether or not anyone accepts Him as Lord and Savior. He didn’t do it because you deserve it or because you earned it. There is only one way He could have endured that immense amount of pain: true, unconditional, selfless love.   Knowing that someone would go through so much for you regardless of how you respond strips away any reason apart from love. The power of that kind of love is transforming. It transforms those who believe in it, drawing them closer to God, thus transforming their character to be more like His.

suspect most people have someone like Beau Thatcher in their lives—a person standing in between who you used to be and who you want to be, guarding the wall and proclaiming that you shall forever be imprisoned by their expectations and obligations. Crossing to the other side will always be a struggle and fraught with dangers that may leave scars. But, oh, the reward when you leap over that wall or break through it and shed the burdens of the past! I am light and free and my path ahead is smooth and wide through a land of burgeoning promise.

At some point, we reach a place in life when we’re sure there will be no more surprises. The timing is different for everyone, but the feeling — a settling, a resignation — is the same. We know everyone we’re going to know. We may encounter new clients or neighbors, the kinds of people who come and go, the kind that don’t last. But eventually, we come to understand that the old flame is not going to return decades later, that no one truly revolutionary is going to cross our paths. Our people are our people. And when we reach that point, we inherently grasp that no one new will change us. No one will shake the foundation of our identity or imperil our most cherished relationships. No one will force us to make unthinkable choices. No one will crease a comfortable life and fold it into a wholly new shape, like an origami crane.   And then someone does.

When you find that special someone, you don't let go. You jump in. You fight for him. Love doesn'thappen when you want it to happen. It happens when it was meant to be. Your paths crossed when you least expected it, That's the beauty of love.

But later a fast-moving planet had suddenly crossed an invisible point and a change had occurred, one of the kind we're not aware of down here. Perhaps tiny signs reveal this sort of cosmic event to us, but we don't notice them either -- someone has stepped on a twig lying on the path, a bottle of beer has cracked in the freezer when someone forgot to remove it in time, or two red fruit have fallen from a wild rose bush. How could we possibly understand it all? It's clear that the largest things are contained in the smallest.

Just because you two care about each other doesn't mean you need to have some big serious relationship. Who knows why Dalton came into your life? Maybe it was just so that you'd have someone else to support you as you transition back into being around other people. Or maybe your paths crossed so you could help him, you know?

Spiros and the other guards move in front of us, clearing a path to the gangway—a thick wooden plank leading from our ship to theirs. The sight of it makes my stomach clench and I imagine all the ways I could topple off it. Spiros crosses first, the plank rattling beneath his feet with each step he takes, though he hardly seems to notice it. He’s done this before, of course. So has Søren—I’m the only one new at this. “If it helps,” Søren murmurs to me, “I’ve never seen anyone fall off a gangway unless someone pushed them.” “Thank you,” I reply dryly, before taking my first step onto the rickety plank.

Fear is about knowing all the bad things that can happen to you and still move forward to achieve your goals. The greatest fears are related to humiliation, shame and death. Three thousand years ago, shame, humiliation and death, was about dying in a war and then have the head put in a stick for everyone else to see. One thousand years after, it was about being naked in a cross and left there to die in front of everyone. One thousand and five hundred years after, it was related to burning in a pole after being accused of witchcraft. But, in recent times, it’s just related to losing a job, the family and friends. Humiliation is often related to shame and most people don’t change their life because they fear being ridiculed and despised, even though they don’t face death as much as their ancestors once did. Great leaders make the difference among the majority, by refusing to stop themselves when seeing such reaction in those around them. For example, there was once a kid in Austria that wished to become an artist but was humiliated by his father and mother, ridiculed by his classmates and later on sentenced to jail by his government. However, years later, that person became someone we still tremble when hearing the name - Hitler. There was another one that was persecuted all his life, humiliated even in the day he died and became the most well-known and popular person in the world – Jesus Christ. Accepting defeat in life and even losing life itself, or facing ridicule from those that are most important to us, and still follow our heart, is part of the path to ultimate victory. Whatever we choose for our fate, challenges can make us stronger and the inner war against fear also.

She could walk the mile from Wall Street to the north edge of the city. But then she’d run into the guards stationed there. She’d have to sneak past them and not get shot. Then she’d have eleven miles of running to the north edge of the island. If she took the Greenwich Road or the Post Road, she’d likely be captured by one in need of a slave or in need of the reward paid for a healthy runaway. If she stuck to the woods that ran up the center of the island, she could be et by a bear or drowned in a swamp. If angels guided her safe through the woods and she made the north edge, she’d have to get past the guards watching over King’s Bridge, where New York Island touched the rest of America. I rolled over, my back to the fire. That girl could more likely grab hold of the feet of a passing crow and bid him fly her to safety. Better yet, sprout her own wings. The only path left was across the water. A girl like that could not swim and did not own a boat, not to mention the river currents were fast and the crossing would be noted by someone who would raise a ruckus and then the soldiers would line up like a firing squad and shoot that girl dead in the water. They wouldn’t even bury her proper, just let the water take the boat and the body and both would be consumed by sea monsters.

A group of frogs was traveling through the woods and two of them fell into a deep pit. When the other frogs saw how deep the pit was, they told the two frogs that they were as good as dead. The two frogs ignored the comments and tried to jump up out of the pit with all their might. The other frogs kept telling them to stop, that they were as good as dead. Finally, one of the frogs took heed to what the other frogs were saying and gave up. He fell down and died. The other frog continued to jump as hard as he could. Once again, the crowd of frogs yelled at him to stop the pain and just die. He jumped even harder and finally made it out. When he got out, the other frogs said, “Did you not hear us?” The frog explained to them that he was deaf. He thought they were encouraging him the entire time. Moral: There is power of life and death in the tongue. An encouraging word to someone who is down can lift them up and help them make it through the day. So be careful of what you say. Speak life to those who cross your path. The power of words is sometimes hard to understand. An encouraging word or a smile can go such a long way.

The harshest path is that path which you have to cross it with someone which you don’t trust.

We live in a culture which strives to return to each of us full responsibility for his own life. The moral responsibility inherited from the Christian tradition has thus been augmented, with the help of the whole modern apparatus of information and communication, by the requirement that everyone should be answerable for every aspect of their lives. What this amounts to is an expulsion of the other, who has indeed become perfectly useless in the context of a programmed management of life, a regimen where everything conspires to buttress the autarky of the individual cell. This, however, is an absurdity: no one can be expected to be entirely responsible for his own life. This Christian-cum-modern idea is futile and arrogant. It is also a utopian notion with no justification whatsoever. It requires that the individual should transform himself into a slave to his identity, his will, his responsibilities, his desire; and that he should start exercising control of all his own circuitry, as well as all the worldwide circuits that happen to cross paths within his genes, nerves or thought: a truly unheard-of servitude. How much more human to place one's fate, one's desire and one's will in the hands of someone else. The result? A circulation of responsibility, a declination of wills, and a continual transferring of forms.

Nate, what's that? Over there, someone's running. Come see." Sure enough, way off in the distance, a kid. He looked a little younger than us. Running criss-cross through the streets, looking like a kick returner zagging upfield. Dozens of zombies followed, desperate to tackle him. Chapter 10 – Uninvited Guests for Dinner I grabbed the binoculars to get a better look. The kid was all decked out with a backpack and some sort of protective face shield, almost like a welder might wear. He dragged a weed sprayer in one hand and an old rake in the other. "That kid's in trouble. Just about every zombie in town is on his rear." He seemed to have a plan. Running with purpose, only shooting zombies in his path. He must have had some strong stuff—a trail of flaming zombies lay in his wake. "Is he coming this way?" "No. I think he's headed east, the bridge maybe?" Dropping the binoculars, I headed down the ladder. "Come on. He'll get cornered at the bridge.

lack of ability to concentrate for periods of time, nightmares more frequently, feelings of depression with or without reason, agitation at the drop of a hat and feel like you are going insane.  Family members who were once close will become total strangers if not mortal enemies.       Most negative hauntings are poltergeist.  It is extremely rare to encounter an actual demon.  There are three ways someone would cross paths with a demon.  One, they are called.  At this point sorry about your luck.  You don't just conjure these guys up and then think you’re going to break up with them when you’re done using them for your personal   gain or satisfaction.  Two, they come with the property.  It could be land, or personal property someone has used in a ceremony.  If a demon is attached to property move, if personal property

I do believe that sometimes—whether it’s fate or accidental—we cross paths with someone who shatters us on a fundamental level and remakes us into a better version of ourselves.” I

Sometimes you meet someone who’ll have a hold on your heart and will never let go, and the second they cross your path, an irresistible bond is forged.

Fate isn’t always the good stuff, Remi. Sometimes the path provided isn’t a straight line but rather a journey filled with obstacles and detours. It took the unimaginable for me to find you, but I will never stop being grateful that there was even one single junction in time in which our paths crossed.

When a life is thrown from its body suddenly (by accident), or semi-suddenly (by an untimely illness), or unwillingly (by resisting death) there is damage to the system because the life-force was not prepared to leave. The exiting soul will struggle to make sense of where it is and what it is supposed to do next. It is a great gift to help someone crossover well. The person leaving will benefit from a clearer, cleaner, calmer post-Earth path. When people die, they essentially follow their instincts and leanings. Most of their human associations and attachments disintegrate. They are pulled, pushed, and drawn by their inherent tendencies. Advanced souls have a more conscious and intentional path after their passing.

It is a great gift to help someone crossover well. The person leaving will benefit from a clearer, cleaner, calmer post-Earth path. When people die, they essentially follow their instincts and leanings. Most of their human associations and attachments disintegrate. They are pulled, pushed, and drawn by their inherent tendencies. Advanced souls have a more conscious and intentional path after their passing.

Be gentle with the people who cross your path. If someone is grumpy or rude, if someone makes a mistake or does something wrong, give her the benefit of the doubt. You never know what she is carrying around inside.

That was two years ago, when I was still finding things easier. I had forgotten about this encounter with Innerd. What did he matter? But later on, a fast-moving planet had suddenly crossed an invisible point and a change had occurred, one of the kind we're not aware of down here. Perhaps tiny signs reveal this sort of cosmic event to us, but we don't notice them either - someone has stepped on a twig lying on the path, a bottle of beer has cracked in the freezer when someone forgot to remove it in time, or two red fruits have fallen from a wild rose bush. How could we possibly understand it all?

There are no coincidences in life. Everything happens for a very personal reason. You always attract what you want the most, even when you are not seeing it. And you will never see it until you are prepared to accept it. But the potential to understand yourself and grow both spiritually and mentally, the possibility of finding the answers you have been seeking, the possibility of reaching for your dreams, is equivalent to the perception of another, as well as the emotions you assimilate within a dynamic you can't control. It would be naive to call it love, because real love is found only when paths cross each other, not from the angle of what is observed but rather the angle of desire. And in this situation, to give is to receive; to offer, is to gain; to lose, is to win. When you understand that the mystery of life unfolds itself through the emotions you attract to your life, you will also understand that any limitation, such as distance, location and time, are illusions that will only distract you from a dream that awaits for you in the eyes of someone else. People often fear such experiences, but only because of their past mistakes. The nature of the experience never changes, but fears do lead people to a repetition of cycles.

Sometimes our highest path takes us away from someone we romantically love or think we love, simply because they aren't ready to change paths with us. We need to realize that even if we choose a path that doesn't include them, or that our time together wasn't "the right path." We cross into each other's path for a reason-to teach each other useful lessons and help each other grow. But sometimes, in order to keep growing, we have to venture onto a new, higher path by ourselves. And that is okay. You can love someone and still not be meant to spend your whole life with them.

A Godly Woman Ode to a woman who loves God wholeheartedly A Godly Woman Walks according to the Word Wherever she is in this world When circumstances do not allow She still knows her worth A Godly Woman Follows the route of righteousness Although it may seem inconvenient She finds a way to understand The path she ought to travel A Godly Woman Subscribes to the Gospel No matter how others question it She spreads good news to the nations Even if it means taking on a new dimension A Godly Woman Kneels even when she is weak She searches the heart of God Until she finds it Despite what she has lost A Godly Woman Keeps her eyes fixed on the Cross Her aid does not come from across Hence, she is always afloat Even in the midst of floods A Godly Woman Inspires other people She is someone you can look up to Or easily reach for help A kind-hearted Soul celebrated by Heaven A Godly Woman Has Divine power Always a conqueror More than a fighter In every battle, she is victorious A Godly Woman Can never afford to live Without acknowledging her Maker Every single day, she relies on her Saviour Because she is a devoted Believer No one can ever dispute the fact that She is a godly woman

It is impossible to walk behind someone on a narrow cliff path without the idea of shoving them over the edge crossing one’s mind.

Teresa (Saint Teresa of Avila) herself was starved for such companionship, especially when her mystical experiences of God reached a cosmic level to which no one else could relate. If is a great comfort to be understood by others who trust and believe in the personal experiences that we share with them, especially those for which there are no witnesses....When Teresa was fifty-two years old, she met John of the Cross, who was then only twenty-five. After they exchanged their experiences of God, they recognized each other as soul companions. In John, Teresa finally found someone with whom she could share the mystery of her life with God. After they met, she no longer needed to prove or defend her experiences of the soul. (Sadly, John burned all their correspondence shortly before his death.) Teresa emphasized the need for companions on the spiritual journey. No one should travel through her Castle alone, she wrote again and again. Teresa knew firsthand the difficulty of inner work required of the soul pilgrim, who was as likely to experience a dark night of the soul, to borrow a phrase from John of the Cross, as she was to experience the light and grace of liberation.

I heard of someone who had been an earnest Christian and spoke about the “cruel” thought of separation and death. But you don’t think that, do you? What are we to think of separation and death? Death was the path to glory for Christ. For the joy set before Him, He endured the cross (Hebrews 12:2). The cross was the birthplace of His everlasting glory. Do you love Christ? Do you desire to be in Christ and not just like Him? Let death be to you the most desirable thing on earth: death to self for the sake of fellowship with Christ.

All these years, Lorraine had carried a part of Gina and Vicky’s dad with her. Her mom and she had been making the same mistake. They both had tried to navigate life by keeping one foot in the same spot. Instead of getting anywhere, they merely traced the same, one-footed circle over and over. There was no room for anything else—or anyone else—on that path. It seemed cruel to discover they had so much in common at the end. Gina had never wanted to let go, worried the pain was all she had left. But she needed to free herself to blaze a new path, one with room for May—and maybe someone else. Gina latched the cross around her neck, a reminder to break the circle and move forward.

there. And what if all of this – Aaron’s grey areas, his habit of sailing close to the wind – had something to do with why Faye was missing? Not Garvin – but someone else whose path Aaron had crossed? Trampled on? She let that thought percolate for a moment. It didn’t add up. How could anyone have known where she and the kids would be that morning? Unless someone had been following them … The cab lurched around a corner and her stomach turned. She hadn’t eaten since the hotel breakfast, but the thought of food made her feel even sicker. How many hours was it now? She looked at her phone. Almost six o’clock. Faye had been missing for nearly ten hours. And now they’re back, standing on Oxford Street, in the heavy evening heat, yet again at a loss as to what to do. Hawthorn asks if they want to go to the supervisor’s office in the station, warning them it won’t be long before reporters realize they’re back. But Aaron wants to stay here, out on the street, where they’ll feel more useful. Sive is numb. Completely numb. As though her mind is shutting down to protect her from thinking the worst. Hawthorn leaves, and Jude texts. She’s in a Regent Street coffee shop, working on something, but she’ll come to meet them now. To regroup, she says. And less than ten minutes later, she’s here beside them, listening while Aaron gives her more details about their false lead in Leytonstone. Sive is only half tuned in as they swap questions and answers – Is Maggie here? Aaron asks. No, she never came back, Jude says. Are their other friends coming? Dave will follow once he runs home to get his car, Aaron says. Scott is staying with Bea and Toby, and Nita is sharing her participation in the search on Insta Live. Jude

I’d finally fallen. It had been impossibly fortuitous, fated, for me to find myself crossing paths with someone I could love like Gus Everett, and I still felt lucky even as I felt miserable.

To think how many people we cross paths with in our lives. How someone like me has found someone like you.

About Kindness, This is just so much for my Soul, and to each one of you, beautiful Flickers of Light and Love. On this Amazing Day of Christmas, I want to send you all a bunch of Happiness and a heartful of My Prayers but above all a Truth that I feel I had the privilege of knowing long back, when I fell in love with God Almighty. The truth is Simple, Kindness is all that Matters. And by Kindness I don't mean the Kindness that looks differently on another but the One that comes with Empathy, the One that flows through Compassion, the One that roots in Love. We just have to understand that everyone is a beautiful person at heart, and no matter how a person behaves or how someone treats you, we just have to stay Kind and know that Somewhere out there Everything we do, has ripples, so let us create ripples in Kindness, in Grace, in Forgiveness, above all in Love. It is very very difficult to forgive a person who hurts us, but when you embody Kindness and practice Grace as an everyday habit, you soon understand how easy it becomes to forgive, because then you look at the Soul who hurt you as a Soul who is trapped in a blockchain of Karma, you understand that you need to release that Soul from your Karmic Cycle by forgiving and leaving it to God, and actually praying for the well-being of that Soul. Every Single Time, you cross path with a Stranger, wear a Smile, it doesn't matter if it is reciprocated or not, just know maybe you just infected a Soul with your Smile, after all like Pain, Happiness is Contagious. Let your Energy be that of Happiness, of Sunshine, you never know who needs your Soul's Rainbow in a drought of rain. Every time you find some way to do good, don't even think about it, just do it. Especially when you know that it cannot benefit you, because then you know in your Heart you did something just for Him. And that Feeling is beyond any achievement or success, because honestly nothing on Earth is as beautiful as the feeling of Kindness, of knowing that Every Single Day you wake up in this Earth to wear Kindness, that you have a reason to Exist, and that reason is to sprinkle Grace all around, to let every Soul you cross path with feel how Special they are, to Let the World know that Love is alive, that Kindness is the most beautiful prayer of God, the most amazing privilege granted to us. And so I pray to God, today and always, May the Spirit of Christmas be always the most Alive in the Act of Kindness, in the Very breath that we take, for Kindness is about Love and Love is the Root of this Universe in All Ways, Always. Love & Light, always - Debatrayee

Perhaps he owed her an apology. But he did not want to apologize. For she represented all that had always most irritated him about the ladies who had crossed his path down the years. The entitlement. The assumption of superiority and power

Life went on, even after mistakes left you scraping yourself off the ground.” “He was the exact right person at the exact wrong time.” “…why had their paths crossed twice—and this second time in such a spectacular way?” “The thing that estranged me from my family is the very thing that could save what’s left of them now.” “He glanced at MacKenzie. In her case, he was pretty sure someone had already stirred up the past, and he and MacKenzie had to walk the path through the valley that held more than shadows of death.” “Guilt and shame from her past invaded her thoughts and heart.” “Why couldn’t they have met by chance again or through God’s making it all work out for them? Like normal people. But really, neither of them was normal.” “And here we are…breaking all the rules to find a dangerous rule-breaker.” “These actions he’d taken with MacKenzie could break him or make him, but of course, it wasn’t about him. Sometimes the door God opened for a person to walk through had more to do with the greater good.

Ya Allah! If he is what I’ve heard about him, if he ever was what I thought him to be, if he is the one who can be the coolness of my eyes and if I can be an answer to his duas, please find a way for the both of us to cross paths. But if you’re protecting me from a calamity I haven’t seen coming, then detach my heart from him and help me find someone better. Aameen.

What I didn’t feel was what surprised me the most. I’d always looked at Clara and thought her too good for me, too benevolent to entangle herself with someone as fucked up as I was. But the truth was different. We matched. We fit together so completely that I knew the Goddess or Creator, or whoever the hell dabbled in our fates, had put her on my path for a reason. When I met her, I had been in a state of denial that I’d ever be able to have a normal relationship with a woman. I was convinced I’d been cursed by the world, cast out because I’d rejected my magic, the gift I was given. So I’d been content watching her from afar, marveling at her beauty and unwavering kindness. Until I wasn’t. Until she bestowed that kindness on me. Little by little, my heart opened and my soul began to believe that maybe, just maybe, it could come out of its own cage. Just knowing her, talking to her briefly on the street or being invited to their family gatherings—something I wasn’t ready for—slowly eroded away the shell of cynicism and defensiveness I wore wherever I went.

The defenders knew that some clients, and their acts, were despicable, but it was still their responsibility to defend them. They could accept the accused’s story, or, once in a great while, believe it. Believing in a client was a luxury to be relished when it crossed one’s path.   Defendants intuitively sensed this. A public defender faced the two-pronged reasoning of the guilty client charged with a heinous crime: First, the accused did not think his appointed lawyer could defend him without believing him innocent, so he lied. Second, the accused believed that if his lawyer thought he had committed horrible deeds, he would never act to get him off, so he lied.   From this jailhouse logic came the public defender’s creed: “A client is someone who lies to his lawyer, and tells the truth to everyone else.

no matter how difficult our own journey, sometimes the only thing that can ease our path is to stop for a while and gather strength by lifting someone else’s burden.

Love is like a drug that can either kill you, weaken you or make you stronger. Like a poison that finds it way through you body with each kiss, each touch and each look. It makes you feel euphoric. Makes you feel like you can take on anything that comes on your path. Whether it walks behind, in front or beside you. No mountain is high enough, no ocean deep enough and the sky had no limit. It can make you feel weak. Make you question everything around except the person who the love is for. But it can also destroy you in a way you never would have imagined was even possible. It hurts like a thousand knives twisting against your spine, paralyzing you. It can make you feel like the world just caved in around you, beneath you. You ask yourself if this is all worth it. Worth the euphoric feeling of someone loving you. Worth everything. I can tell you that in the end, it is. Because now you may feel destroyed, but keep in mind that a feeling is something that can be changed. There is someone who will build you up. Who will climb the highest mountain or cross the deepest oceans. Who makes you feel alive all for the right reasons. Someone who will not sugar coat his intentions. Who will not say he's someone he actually is not. Someone who wants you in his life. Who shows you off like a show pony to show everyone how proud he/she is to have you in his/her life. The feeling of destruction will fade when you meet someone who is willing to build you up. Who doesn't care how deep your roots have rooted itself into the earth to keep yourself grounded. Who will find every last stone to make sure your as strong as ever when everything else came crumbling down.

The people of the town, though, remained strangers: I could not realize that I must be seeing some of them over and over again, it was as though each passed through only once, as though there were always new strangers coming here. And I felt so much a stranger myself that when, as rarely happened, I crossed the path of someone who knew me, and who spoke to me, I was startled and could hardly answer.

If you're on the path of right, and someone crosses it with wrong, you don't need to turn. Build a bridge over their path and continue on your way.

I remember once in the Arctic, when we were attempting to cross the frozen North Atlantic in a small, open rigid inflatable boat (RIB), that I heard that voice very clearly. We had been caught out in a monster, sub-zero, gale-force 8 storm, 400 miles off the coast of Greenland - and we were struggling. We were reduced to a crawl as we battled up and down huge, freezing waves and crashing white water. It felt like only a matter of time before we would be capsized to our deaths in the black and icy sea during this longest of nights. Each time one of us handed over the control of the little boat to another crew member to do their shift at the wheel, we had an especially frightening few minutes as the new helmsman fought to become accustomed to the pitch and character of those freak waves. If ever we were going to be capsized, it was during these change-over times. We got lucky once. We were all thrown off our seats after the RIB had been tossed up and landed on the side of her tubes, only to topple back, by luck, the right way up. We then got lucky a second time in a similar incident. Instinct told me we wouldn’t get so lucky a third time. ‘No more mistakes. Helm this yourself,’ I felt the voice saying to me. As I prepared to hand over to Mick, my old buddy, something deep inside me kept repeating, ‘Just keep helming for a bit longer - see this team through the storm yourself.’ But we had a rota and I also knew we should stick to it. That was the rule. Yet the voice persisted. Eventually I shouted over the wind and spray to Mick that I was going to keep helming. ‘Trust me,’ I told him. Mick then helped me all through that night, pouring Red Bull down my throat as we got thrown left and right, fighting to cling on to the wheel and our seats. By dawn, the seas were easing and by the next evening we could see the distant coast of Iceland ahead. Finally. Afterwards, two of the crew said to me quietly that they had been so terrified to helm that they were praying someone else would do it. I had been exhausted, and logic had said to hand over, but instinct had told me I should keep steering. Deep down I knew that I had been beginning to master how to control the small boat in the chaos of the waves and ice - and that voice told me we might not get a third lucky escape. It was the right call - not an easy one, but a right one. Instinct doesn’t always tell us to choose the easier path, but it will guide you towards the right one.

someone who wants the same life I want. Mama says when people are different and don’t believe the same things, it’s not likely that a life together would ever work. My brother Jacob and my sister Becca are both choosing a different path, and I worry that what Mama said will come true for them. I’ve always loved our life. Unlike some of the girls I know from church, I never once wanted to be like the other people we saw in town on Saturday trips to the grocery store. Never wished for things we didn’t have. I like the idea of being the same at the end of my life as I was at the beginning.

Dearest Almighty God, I don't know where he is, I don't know who he is, I don't know if I have ever met him, or if we have crossed paths, I don't even know if he exists, but what I do know is that You won't let my Heart be a Void. What I know is when You put a dream in Someone's Heart You don't let that disappear just like that, You have your reason to even let that dream shape in, and mine has always been the most simplest and the most humblest of all. It doesn't matter how archaic or regressive it seems I would always imagine the most beautiful of all pathways is the route where two hearts connect and grow old together, when two souls find a Home together and that would always be my dearest prayer, and so I know that You know how that Prayer churns my Soul. I pray before You to give me Hope, to give me the heart to wait in Patience as You work on him and send him to my path in Your way for in You I trust blindly. I pray that You bless all lone hearts and give them courage and wisdom to learn the true meaning of Togetherness, to understand the true meaning of Companionship and above all the sanctity of Home, where children are born of Love, where hearts are united in Trust and Respect, so yes I pray with all my Heart that wherever he is, whoever he is, You bless him with my aura and make him grow in ways that only You can, that You paint his dreams and bless them in Your colour of Hope and Success, that You hold his hand and let him win in life in ways that You alone can. I know I would know my deepest Happiness in his smile, for I know whoever he is, wherever he is, his soul and mine are one, and soon in Your Timing, You will find Him in my Life, for Our Home would be Your Smile of Love. Until then, I will stay in Faith, praying for Him every single moment in my Heart and Soul. - an Old Soul trusting in God, always.

Whenever someone attractive crossed my path I seemed to be doing my best impression of a sewer rat.