Deaf Inspirational Quotes

Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.

How would your life be different if…You pretended those around you were deaf to your words? Let today be the day…You let your actions speak and communicate your feelings and intentions.

Blindness separates people from things; deafness separates people from people.

Seek and see all the marvels around you. You will get tired of looking at yourself alone, and that fatigue will make you deaf and blind to everything else. - Don Juan

Helen Keller became deaf, dumb, and blind shortly after birth. Despite her greatest misfortune, she has written her name indelibly in the pages of the history of the great. Her entire life has served as evidence that no one is ever defeated until defeat has been accepted as reality.

Some of us go full circle. Some of us blindly go nowhere. The circle doesn’t have to be very large to make a point, kick your ass and/or be entertaining. Remember that and stay light. Even the deaf know good music when they hear it.

Live the life you wish to, date the man you wish to date, and stop looking to your family for affirmation for the choices that you make. Life is full of risks. You can't live your life in fear of how people will judge you for following your dreams.

After a few months without writing, months I've lived turned outward... I fear going deaf, not being able to hear the silence.

If there's happiness tucked away in my tragedies, I'll find it no matter what. If the blind can find joy in music, and the deaf can discover it with colors, I will do my best to always find the sun in the darkness because my life isn't one sad ending - it's a series of endless happy beginnings.

There was once a fiddler who played so beauitully that everybody danced. A deaf man who could not hear the music considered them all insane. Those who are with Jesus in suffering hear this music to which other men are deaf. They dance and do not care if they are considered insane.

I who am blind can give one hint to those who see: Use your eyes as if tomorrow you would be stricken blind. And the same method can be applied to the other senses. Hear the music of voices, the song of a bird, the mighty strains of an orchestra, as if you would be stricken deaf tomorrow. Touch each object as if tomorrow your tactile sense would fail. Smell the perfume of flowers, taste with relish each morsel, as if tomorrow you could never smell and taste again. make the most of every sense; glory in the beauty which the world in all the facets of pleasure reveals to you through the several means of contact which Nature provides. But of all the senses, I am sure that sight is the most delightful.

A great ancient poet was blind. A great classical composer was deaf. Many of us are dumb. What have we to show for it?

If you listen to critics for too long, you will become deaf to success.

When a woman is passive, it is acceptable. However, when a woman speaks her mind and voices her opinion, that is a serious problem. A woman’s voice should count, but sadly, when a woman speaks, people hear only what they want to hear; the rest falls on deaf ears. When things do not work out as planned, a woman has to step up to the plate to fix the problem that she had a solution for in the first place.

A deaf composer's like a cook who's lost his sense of taste. A frog that's lost its webbed feet. A truck driver with his license revoked. That would throw anybody for a loop, don't you think? But Beethoven didn't let it get to him. Sure, he must have been a little depressed at first, but he didn't let misfortune get him down. It was like, Problem? What problem? He composed more than ever and came up with better music than anything he'd ever written. I really admire the guy. Like this Archduke Trio--he was nearly deaf when he wrote it, can you believe it? What I'm trying to say is, it must be tough on you not being able to read, but it's not the end of the world. You might not be able to read, but there are things only you can do. That's what you gotta focus on--your strengths. Like being able to talk with the stone.

A woman lives with resentment. Resentment hurts, and it is a throbbing pain that leaves deep scars. Although some of the scars heal, the resentment lingers on. When she kneels to pray, she feels as if her prayers fall on deaf ears; the burdens are intolerable.

Pretend those around you are deaf to your words. Let your actions speak and communicate your feelings and intentions. This way of living ensures the potency of your message is delivered and serves as a gauge against our verbal nonsense.

Make no mistake about it. We are born blind, deaf, and mute. It is neither these eyes that give us sight, nor these ears that give us sound. It is not even these lips that give us voice. It is only love. Love makes us seek beauty and truth. Love yearns to connect. To experience. To understand. So close your eyes at once. Don’t utter a word. Perk up your ears and listen to that silent sound inside you where all this is found.

If I was blind, I would still see you. If I was deaf, I would still hear you. If I was mute, I would still speak to you. If I was crippled, I would still carry you. If I was dying, I would still live for you.

some of the best music was composed by Beethovan,but he was deaf,some of the best poetry of nature was written by Milton,but he was deaf.possible is always inside the impossible...

The blind can see God, the deaf can hear Him, the mute can speak to Him, and the lame can run to Him.

Apologizing to me again, thought Miles miserably. For me. He keeps telling me I'm all right—and then apologizing. Inconsistent, Father.He shuffled back and forth across the room again, and his pain burst into speech. He flung his words against the deaf door, "I'll make you take back that apology! I am all right, damn it! I'll make you see it. I'll stuff you so full of pride in me there'll be no room left for your precious guilt! I swear by my word as Vorkosigan. I swear it, Father," his voice fell to a whisper, "Grandfather. Somehow, I don't know how . . .

He mentioned a dear friend Morrie had, Maurie Stein, who had first sent Morrie's aphorisms to the Boston Globe. They had been together at Brandeis since the early sixties. Now Stein was going deaf. Koppel imagined the two men together one day, one unable to speak, the other unable to hear. What would that be like? "We will hold hands," Morrie said. "And there'll be a lot of love passing between us. Ted, we've had thirty-five years of friendship. You don't need speech or hearing to feel that.

People become desensitized to many things going on around them. It is because they always see it on the tv, hear it on the radio, read or watch it on the internet, hear about it at work etc. Then immoral acts are tuned to a deaf ear. Then no one wants to take action or speak up for what's right. Break the cycle and have moral character.

Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see. Mark Twain

The moon shines in my body, but my blind eyes cannot see it: The moon is within me, and so is the sun. The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me; but my deaf ears cannot hear it. So long as man clamors for the I and the Mine, his works are as naught: When all love of the I and the Mine is dead, then the work of the Lord is done. For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge: When that comes, then work is put away. The flower blooms for the fruit: when the fruit comes, the flower withers. The musk is in the deer, but is seeks it not within itself: it wanders in quest of grass.

Our minds are creative and knowledgeable. Yet time and time again, our needs and wants fell on deaf ears. We were told we weren’t good enough. We were abused mentally, physically, and emotionally. We were told with nasty sarcastic remarks at times, and here and there maybe a laugh that made the insult worse; “It would be your word against mine, and guess who they are going believe? Not you.” One by one we took a chance to speak up, but our voices weren’t heard. They tried to make us feel threatened; as if we were going to lay down and be stepped on like shit on the bottom on their shoe. We interrupted their comfort zone and showed them their time was up!

Even if all our senses fail to function − eyes turn blind and ears fail to listen − the heart will still listen, see and beat.

Kindness is the language we all can speak, even the deaf can hear it and the blind can see it...

Love will always be blind, but will never be deaf.

People could play blindness and deafness game when it comes to your work and achievements. But your work will alway be a mega picture in their midst and your words will always be your voice that will never depart from their ears.

I do think my story is very unique because having a partial disability, you are deemed by society as someone who is born to fail. This alone had made me more determined to succeed not just for myself but for the Deaf community as well. Hence my motto in life is to live a purpose driven life, be an example to the lost in the world and to leave a legacy.

Our minds are creative and knowledgeable. Yet time and time again, our needs and wants fell on deaf ears. We were told we weren’t good enough. We were abused mentally, physically, and emotionally. We were told with nasty sarcastic remarks at times, and here and there maybe a laugh that made the insult worse; “It would be your word against mine, and guess who they are going believe? Not you.” One by one we took a chance to speak up, but our voices weren’t heard. They tried to make us feel threatened; as if we were going to lay down and be stepped on like shit on the bottom on their shoe. We interrupted their comfort zone and showed them their time was up! Their time of talking and belittling us this way has expired. They tried, but they failed to realize we are strong and we will never give up. Their time of thinking they can touch us inappropriately and we will keep quiet has expired. No! We will rise up and bring the world to its feet. Trust me… We will be seen and heard! Their time of trying to break us down has expired. No! We can move mountains! Their time of pointing their fingers at us and putting F.E.A.R (False Evidence Appearing Real) into our minds by making us believe it is our fault has expired. No! It is not our fault. It never was! Their time of nasty insults has expired. They fail to realize we catch every nasty word and throw back the insult to show we can give as good as we get. Their time of preying off vulnerable women who have to “make a deal” to get a higher position they earned has expired. No! Your “man”ipulation has no effect. We, as women, have full ownership of our minds, bodies, and souls.

Give me, you said, on our very first night, the forest. I rose from the bed and went out, and when I returned, you listened, enthralled, to the shadowy story I told. Give me the river, you asked the next night, then I’ll love you forever. I slipped from your arms and was gone, and when I came back, you listened, at dawn, to the glittering story I told. Give me, you said, the gold from the sun. A third time, I got up and dressed, and when I came home, you sprawled on my breast, for the dazzling story I told. Give me, the hedgerows, give me the fields, I slid from the warmth of our sheets, and when I returned, to kiss you from sleep, you stirred at the story I told. give me the silvery cold, of the moon. I pulled on my boots and my coat, but when i came back, moonlight on your throat outshone the story I told Give me, you howled on our sixth night together, the wind in the trees. You turned to the wall as I left, and when I came home, I saw you were deaf to the blustering story I told. Give me the sky, all the space it can hold. I left you, the last night we loved, and when I returned, you were gone with the gold, and the silver, the river, the forest, the fields, and this is the story I’ve told. "Give

The busybody (banned as sexist, demeaning to older women) who lives next door called my daughter a tomboy (banned as sexist) when she climbed the jungle (banned; replaced with "rain forest") gym. Then she had the nerve to call her an egghead and a bookworm (both banned as offensive; replaced with "intellectual") because she read fairy (banned because suggests homosexuality; replace with "elf") tales. I'm tired of the Language Police turning a deaf ear (banned as handicapism) to my complaints. I'm no Pollyanna (banned as sexist) and will not accept any lame (banned as offensive; replace with "walks with a cane") excuses at this time. If Alanis Morrissette can play God (banned) in Dogma (banned as ethnocentric; replace with "Doctrine" or "Belief"), why can't my daughter play stickball (banned as regional or ethnic bias) on boy's night out (banned as sexist)? Why can't she build a snowman (banned, replace with "snow person") without that fanatic (banned as ethnocentric; replace with "believer," "follower," or "adherent") next door telling her she's going to hell (banned; replaced with "heck" or "darn")? Do you really think this is what the Founding Fathers (banned as sexist; replace with "the Founders" or "the Framers") had in mind? That we can't even enjoy our Devil (banned)-ed ham sandwiches in peace? I say put a stop to this cult (banned as ethnocentric) of PC old wives' tales (banned as sexist; replace with "folk wisdom") and extremist (banned as ethnocentric; replace with "believer," "follower," or "adherent") conservative duffers (banned as demeaning to older men). As an heiress (banned as sexist; replace with "heir") to the first amendment, I feel that only a heretic (use with caution when comparing religions) would try to stop American vernacular from flourishing in all its inspirational (banned as patronizing when referring to a person with disabilities) splendor.

As I prepare to leave she walks with me, half deaf and blind, under several ladders in her living room that balance paint and workmen, into the garden where there is a wild horse, a 1930 car splayed flat on its axles and hundreds of flowering bushes so that her eyes swim out into the dark green and unfocussed purple. There is very little now that separates the house from the garden. Rain and vines and chickens move into the building. Before I leave, she points to a group photograph of a fancy dress party that shows herself and my grandmother Lalla among the crowd. She has looked at it for years and has in this way memorized everyone's place in the picture. She reels off names and laughs at the facial expressions she can no longer see. It has moved, tangible, palpable, into her brain, the way memory invades the present in those who are old, the way gardens invade houses here, the way her tiny body steps into mine as intimate as anything I have witnessed and I have to force myself to be gentle with this frailty in the midst of my embrace.

Once again, I tried to explain. I was my own lawyer, and I represented and tried to defend my innocence, but as always, it fell on deaf ears.

Heavy are the hands that bear the signs.

I am ripe. Ripe enough to hear your Truth. But shout it for one ear remains deaf.

If you listen to lies for too long, you will become deaf to truth.

Love is loud; the soul hears it, even if the universe is deaf.

My smile lights up a million stars always. I create beauty with my hands and I radiate beauty from within. I make a fashion statement wherever I go and I always see beauty wherever I go. Life is an experience that brings out the best in me. I triumph when my days are blue because I know my next experience will be much brighter than my worst. I am unique, beautiful, positive , strong-willed lady and above all, I welcome a challenge because that's what makes me who I am and I am an over-comer

Well, hello there. And welcome. You must be the German gal.” I nodded, still not trusting myself to speak. “It's nice to meet you,” she said in a loud voice. “She's German, not deaf,” Henry murmured. “This is Mrs. Price. She takes care of the staff.

Remember that in pursuing medicine you have assumed responsibility for a sublime mission. Persever, with God in your heart, with the teachings of your father and your mother always in your memory, with love and devotion for the abandoned, with faith and enthusiasm, deaf to praises and criticisms, steadfast against envy, and inclined only to do good. (St. Joseph Moscati to a young doctor, p. 140)

3. Alone The long march up the fulvous ridgebacks to The marches, the frontiers of difference -- Where flesh marches with bone, day marches with His wife the night, and country marches with Another country -- is accomplished best, By paradox, alone. A world of twos, Of yangs and yins, of lives and objects, of Sound grasses and deaf stones, is best essayed By sole infiltrators who have cast off Their ties to living moorings, and stand out Into the roads of noon approaching night Casting a single shadow, earnest of Their honorable intention to lay down Their lives for their old country, humankind, In the same selfish spirit that inspired Their lifelong journey, largely and at last Alone, across the passes that divide A life from every other, the sheer crags Of overweening will, the deepening scarps Like brain fissures that cunningly cut off Each outcrop from the main and make it one While its luck lasts, while its bravura holds Against all odds, until the final climb Across the mountains to the farther shore Of sundown on the watersheds, where self, Propelled by its last rays, sways in the sway Of the last grasses and falls headlong in The darkness of the dust it is part of Upon the passes where we are no more: Where the recirculating shaft goes home Into the breast that armed it for the air, And, as we must expect, the art that there Turned our lone hand into imperial Rome Reverts to earth and its inveterate love For the inanimate and its return. FINIS -- from 'Tras Os Montes

I did say that to deny the existence of evil spirits, or to deny the existence of the devil, is to deny the truth of the New Testament; and that to deny the existence of these imps of darkness is to contradict the words of Jesus Christ. I did say that if we give up the belief in devils we must give up the inspiration of the Old and New Testaments, and we must give up the divinity of Christ. Upon that declaration I stand, because if devils do not exist, then Jesus Christ was mistaken, or we have not in the New Testament a true account of what he said and of what he pretended to do. If the New Testament gives a true account of his words and pretended actions, then he did claim to cast out devils. That was his principal business. That was his certificate of divinity, casting out devils. That authenticated his mission and proved that he was superior to the hosts of darkness. Now, take the devil out of the New Testament, and you also take the veracity of Christ; with that veracity you take the divinity; with that divinity you take the atonement, and when you take the atonement, the great fabric known as Christianity becomes a shapeless ruin. The Christians now claim that Jesus was God. If he was God, of course the devil knew that fact, and yet, according to this account, the devil took the omnipotent God and placed him upon a pinnacle of the temple, and endeavored to induce him to dash himself against the earth… Think of it! The devil – the prince of sharpers – the king of cunning – the master of finesse, trying to bribe God with a grain of sand that belonged to God! Casting out devils was a certificate of divinity. Is there in all the religious literature of the world anything more grossly absurd than this? These devils, according to the Bible, were of various kinds – some could speak and hear, others were deaf and dumb. All could not be cast out in the same way. The deaf and dumb spirits were quite difficult to deal with. St. Mark tells of a gentleman who brought his son to Christ. The boy, it seems, was possessed of a dumb spirit, over which the disciples had no control. “Jesus said unto the spirit: ‘Thou dumb and deaf spirit, I charge thee come out of him, and enter no more into him.’” Whereupon, the deaf spirit (having heard what was said) cried out (being dumb) and immediately vacated the premises. The ease with which Christ controlled this deaf and dumb spirit excited the wonder of his disciples, and they asked him privately why they could not cast that spirit out. To whom he replied: “This kind can come forth by nothing but prayer and fasting.” Is there a Christian in the whole world who would believe such a story if found in any other book? The trouble is, these pious people shut up their reason, and then open their Bible.

Three miles from my adopted city lies a village where I came to peace. The world there was a calm place, even the great Danube no more than a pale ribbon tossed onto the landscape by a girl’s careless hand. Into this stillness I had been ordered to recover. The hills were gold with late summer; my rooms were two, plus a small kitchen, situated upstairs in the back of a cottage at the end of the Herrengasse. From my window I could see onto the courtyard where a linden tree twined skyward — leafy umbilicus canted toward light, warped in the very act of yearning — and I would feed on the sun as if that alone would dismantle the silence around me. At first I raged. Then music raged in me, rising so swiftly I could not write quickly enough to ease the roiling. I would stop to light a lamp, and whatever I’d missed — larks flying to nest, church bells, the shepherd’s home-toward-evening song — rushed in, and I would rage again. I am by nature a conflagration; I would rather leap than sit and be looked at. So when my proud city spread her gypsy skirts, I reentered, burning towards her greater, constant light. Call me rough, ill-tempered, slovenly— I tell you, every tenderness I have ever known has been nothing but thwarted violence, an ache so permanent and deep, the lightest touch awakens it. . . . It is impossible to care enough. I have returned with a second Symphony and 15 Piano Variations which I’ve named Prometheus, after the rogue Titan, the half-a-god who knew the worst sin is to take what cannot be given back. I smile and bow, and the world is loud. And though I dare not lean in to shout Can’t you see that I’m deaf? — I also cannot stop listening.

Nobody is better than anybody in terms of anything. Just because you travel to the UK, the USA, or Europe - doesn't mean you make it in life, or you're better than everyone else. We all share humanity and solidarity in common. Whether you're jobless or working, blind or deaf, rich or poor, Gambian or non-Gambian, a Muslim or a Christian, a president or a mere citizen, we're all equal. We're equal in equality. Equality in humanity is the equation of intelligence and righteousness. Man should be down to earth and humble. Being humble and kindhearted is part of greatness in humanity.'' -

Those Who Call You Mad (The Sonnet) Those who call you mad will one day worship you, For no great achievement is possible without madness. Those who laugh at you will one day learn from you, For working through the laugh is a criteria for greatness. Those who know not you exist will one day seek your guidance, For your endless sacrifice will make you a beacon. Those who find you absurd will one day bow in veneration, For the absurd ideas take us to the most breathtaking destination. Those who look down on you will one day look up to you, For your sacrifice will place you on a pedestal of glory. Those who are deaf to you will one day cross limits for you, For your voice will echo in the hearts as a purifying symphony. Those who see you inconsequential will one day pay you homage. Breathe your mission, live your mission and your acts will forge fate's foliage.

[J.Ivy:] We are all here for a reason on a particular path You don't need a curriculum to know that you are part of the math Cats think I'm delirious, but I'm so damn serious That's why I expose my soul to the globe, the world I'm trying to make it better for these little boys and girls I'm not just another individual, my spirit is a part of this That's why I get spiritual, but I get my hymns from Him So it's not me, it's He that's lyrical I'm not a miracle, I'm a heaven-sent instrument My rhythmatic regimen navigates melodic notes for your soul and your mental That's why I'm instrumental Vibrations is what I'm into Yeah, I need my loot by rent day But that is not what gives me the heart of Kunte Kinte I'm tryina give us "us free" like Cinque I can't stop, that's why I'm hot Determination, dedication, motivation I'm talking to you, my many inspirations When I say I can't, let you or self down If I were of the highest cliff, on the highest riff And you slipped off the side and clinched on to your life in my grip I would never, ever let you down And when these words are found Let it been known that God's penmanship has been signed with a language called love That's why my breath is felt by the deaf And why my words are heard and confined to the ears of the blind I, too, dream in color and in rhyme So I guess I'm one of a kind in a full house Cuz whenever I open my heart, my soul, or my mouth A touch of God reigns out [Chorus] [Jay-Z (Kanye West)] Who else you know been hot this long, (Oh Ya, you know we ain't finished) Started from nothing but he got this strong, (The ROC is in the building) Built the ROC from a pebble, pedalled rock before I met you, Pedalled bikes, got my nephews pedal bikes because they special, Let you tell that man I'm falling, Well somebody must've caught him, Cause every fourth quarter, I like to Mike Jordan 'em, Number one albums, what I got like four of dem, More of dem on the way, The Eight Wonder on the way, Clear the way, I'm here to stay, Y'all can save the chitter chat, this and that, this and Jay, Dissin' Jay 'ill get you mased, When I start spitting them lyrics, niggas get very religious, Six Hail Maries, please Father forgive us, Young, the Archbishop, the Pope John Paul of y'all niggas, The way y'all all follow Jigga, Hov's a living legend and I tell you why, Everybody wanna be Hov and Hov still alive.

It was 1996, and the word “appropriation” never occurred to either of them. They were drawn to these references because they loved them, and they found them inspiring. They weren’t trying to steal from another culture, though that is probably what they did. Consider Mazer in a 2017 interview with Kotaku, celebrating the twentieth-anniversary Nintendo Switch port of the original Ichigo: kotaku: It is said that the original Ichigo is one of the most graphically beautiful low-budget games ever made, but its critics also accuse it of appropriation. How do you respond to that? mazer: I do not respond to that. kotaku: Okay…But would you make the same game if you were making it now? mazer: No, because I am a different person than I was then. kotaku: In terms of its obvious Japanese references, I mean. Ichigo looks like a character Yoshitomo Nara could have painted. The world design looks like Hokusai, except for the Undead level, which looks like Murakami. The soundtrack sounds like Toshiro Mayuzumi… mazer: I won’t apologize for the game Sadie and I made. [Long pause.] We had many references—Dickens, Shakespeare, Homer, the Bible, Philip Glass, Chuck Close, Escher. [Another long pause.] And what is the alternative to appropriation? kotaku: I don’t know. mazer: The alternative to appropriation is a world in which artists only reference their own cultures. kotaku: That’s an oversimplification of the issue. mazer: The alternative to appropriation is a world where white European people make art about white European people, with only white European references in it. Swap African or Asian or Latin or whatever culture you want for European. A world where everyone is blind and deaf to any culture or experience that is not their own. I hate that world, don’t you? I’m terrified of that world, and I don’t want to live in that world, and as a mixed-race person, I literally don’t exist in it. My dad, who I barely knew, was Jewish. My mom was an American-born Korean. I was raised by Korean immigrant grandparents in Koreatown, Los Angeles. And as any mixed-race person will tell you—to be half of two things is to be whole of nothing. And, by the way, I don’t own or have a particularly rich understanding of the references of Jewishness or Koreanness because I happen to be those things. But if Ichigo had been fucking Korean, it wouldn’t be a problem for you, I guess?

may be considered a rising religion because of its numerous parallels to religious themes and values involving godlike beings, the plan for eternal life, the religious sense of awe surrounding its promises, symbolic rituals among its members, an inspirational worldview based on faith, and technology that promises to heal the wounded, restore sight to the blind, and give hearing back to the deaf.

One story Plato used to teach about the limitations of democracy was about a ship in the middle of the ocean. On this ship was a gruff, burly captain who was rather shortsighted and slightly deaf. He and his crew followed the principles of majority rule on decisions about navigational direction. They had a very skilled navigator who knew how to read the stars on voyages, but the navigator was not very popular and was rather introverted. In the panic of being lost, the captain and crew made a decision to follow the most charismatic, eloquent, and persuasive of the crew members. They ignored and ridiculed the navigator’s suggestions, remained lost, and ultimately starved to death at sea. One

Bless and love others even when you think your words fall on deaf ears; you never know how God will use it. — Jerry Constance —

Papa, Jesus is the only prophet I know who made the blind see, healed the sick, made the deaf hear and the paralyzed walk. He can’t only be a prophet; He must be more. Jesus not only raised the dead; He was also raised from the dead Himself. His tomb is empty. He is alive. Muhammad’s bones are still buried in Mecca, and he is dead. Jesus is my Superhero!” I said to my father. Father sat back in his chair and smiled at me. “Yes, Jesus was one of the greatest prophets, even in Islam. We know in the end times He will come from heaven as a judge to judge the world,” he replied. When Papa told me Jesus would come again to judge the world, he unknowingly inspired me to learn more about Him.

where everyone was severely controlled by the government structures. From early childhood I was given firm instructions about what I was supposed to do, say, and even think. I was afraid to try anything new. However, I was very lucky to meet many incredible people in my life from whom I learned to dare to try everything I wanted. I absolutely have to tell you about Alexander Suvorov, whom I met several times and who became my hero and inspiration for many years. Suvorov became totally blind and deaf when he was three years old. Nevertheless, he was so eager to live his life to the fullest that he learned to

Greatness shall fade if love for thee is fake. Surrender thyself, for he is not deaf. Judgement will come in the painful dawn. Don't be afraid, for you will be heard and saved.

This right to speak serves as the wellspring nourishing other rights. Art cannot flourish, literature cannot inspire, the powerless cannot dissent, the press cannot probe, the voter cannot choose wisely, the space for dialogue cannot remain open, and our system cannot be self-correcting without the First Amendment’s guarantee. That makes free speech bigger than an individual possession, for the right to be heard is also the right to hear: your freedom to speak determines my freedom to know. As citizens of dictatorships discover, imposing silence on one imposes deafness on all. They lose the privilege of listening, and into silence marches tyranny.

I often struggle with every word I try to put on paper: there is always a voice within me screaming, ‘It is all useless! The world has gone totally deaf and blind!’ But then another voice comes: ‘Sitting in a dark corner and closing your door and windows is also useless!’ And so, until the world decides to open its ears and its eyes, do I have any choice but to bleed on the endless snows of my blank pages?

Never let anyone dictate your narrative.

I was brought up to believe we can be better. We can be more than who we are...that's our gift. We have the ability to learn, the capacity to change. We grow. That's how we become better. We evolve with each new lesson we learn, if we're willing to accept those lessons.

You only live once. Get it right the first time.

She listened -- and that's the best advice I ever got about grief.

Dogs for the Deaf to

The noise of Criticism is often louder than the voice of Praise. Champions are deaf to both.

Someday on the bank of Jhelum, I will tell my story and only the deaf would hear.

Empathy is the language of the blind who can see, and compassion is the music of the deaf who can hear.

the original color of the apple -Ozcan: So, it is nothing. Imagine that we live in a world of matter, with no color, no taste, no smell, no touch, no sound. Our five senses cannot receive any information about it. So, we live in nothing, our minds decide what it is, and our need to communicate has created languages, terms, and common concepts. I may see and hear nothing but what you see and hear, but we have agreed on terms and concepts that unite us on them. Ozcan added: But nothing is still a thing, our five senses restrict us, perhaps if we had five additional senses to receive the data of this nothing, our minds would interpret it, and deal with it. We need additional senses to receive data that we do not know anything about. Ten senses, for example? Are they enough? What if the nature of this substance needs an extra sense yet? Well, a hundred senses? What if the right sense is not among them? In the end, we do not need a large number of senses, but rather the appropriate sense to receive the necessary data about this substance. The next question, Ruslan: What if we got this sense, and then our mind rejected the reality of matter for some reason? And decided not to interpret the data correctly? Or ignored it? As it often does with our five senses. -What is deafness? -A defect in the ear, due to which the mind does not receive any information about sounds. -But sometimes the mind simply decides to ignore sounds despite receiving data. When it is engaged in something, for example, sleeping, our minds often receive sounds and decide to ignore them, just like that, even though there is no hearing impairment. Sight, touch, taste, smell, the mind can ignore its input if it so desires. He looked directly into his eyes, and advanced towards him a little, he said in a tone of ambiguity: But what if we already have this appropriate sense, Ruslan, but our minds interpret their data at will. Or decided to ignore it completely for some reason. And what is this sense? Let’s agree to call it zero sense. The sense through which we can receive the data of the original color of the apple

You need to relax a little. Do so, and you'll begin to see things you were once blind to. You'll begin to hear thing you were deaf to. Life is so much more enjoyable than you think.

God kept me on this Earth so that I could be a light for Him, a warrior, a source of inspiration for people struggling. He also equipped me to be a bridge between the hearing and deaf communities.

Is it worth the sacrifice? Is it worth the cost? There was a time I told the Lord to “pick someone else. This is too hard!” I’m so thankful He turned a deaf ear.

Once again, Jesus touches someone who shouldn’t be touched, for according to the law, contact with a corpse was also considered nonkosher and demanded a period of quarantine and ritual washing. In all three stories, the point isn’t just that Jesus healed these people; the point is that Jesus touched these people. He embraced them just as he embraced other disparaged members of society, often regarded as “sinners” by the religious and political elite—prostitutes, tax collectors, Samaritans, Gentiles, the sick, the blind, and the deaf.

Light her dark mind, my wizard," Luxrider said with a hopeful note, "the way you did with me. Without your support, I wouldn't have been able to transform." "I tried many times, my boy," sighed the wizard, "yet my words and thoughts fell on deaf ears. People are different than butterflies. They are born with a naturally illuminated mind, but time corrupts it. Fears and guilt and anger and many other shadows creep in and take over. Soon enough, they build mighty walls of defense and place guards on them, keeping any hopeful thoughts outside. And so what is left of the bright mind is only a flickering candle flame, imprisoned, alone.

thought no longer had any secrets for us, is different, distinct, and unique nevertheless. The fate of the Jews of the small town in Transylvania called Sighet; their blindness as they confronted a destiny from which they would have still had time to flee; the inconceivable passivity with which they surrendered to it, deaf to the warnings and pleas of a witness who, having escaped the massacre, relates to them what he has seen with his own eyes, but they refuse to believe him and call him a madman—this set of circumstances would surely have sufficed to inspire a book to which, I believe, no other can be compared.

There are none so deaf than those who refuse to listen." Matthew Henry Commentaries (1708-1710)

Sometimes it may appear that God has turned a deaf ear As if He does not care Sometimes it may appear that God is blind And He may even seem unkind Sometimes it may even appear that God is not near But has completely disappear In your season of famine, when things seem foreign Remember God is faithful His love is wider than the widest plain His grace soars higher than the highest plane And His mercy transcends countless generation Across the ocean, from nation to nation

He held it up so she could see the spine: The Count of Monte Cristo, by Dumas. “Ah, a tale of revenge. Are you seeking inspiration?” He gave her a rather threatening smile. “So far, our hero seems spineless.” “You must be in the early section, then. I assure you, after Dantes spends years and years locked away, growing into a ragamuffin, he emerges quite deadly. Why, the first thing he does is to cut his hair.” He slammed shut the book. “You are peculiarly deaf to the cues most servants know to listen for. Was there some purpose to your visit? If not, you are dismissed.” She held up the mirror again. “Here is my purpose: you look like a wildebeest. If your valet—” “I don’t believe you know what a wildebeest looks like,” he said mildly. Hesitantly she lowered the mirror. He was right; she hadn’t the faintest idea what a wildebeest looked like. “Well, you look how a wildebeest sounds like it should look.” “That doesn’t even make sense.” He opened his book again. “ ‘Sheepdog’ was the better choice.” She glared at him. “Do you enjoy being likened to a dog?

I realize joy is a squirrelly word, right up there beside its abused siblings, mindful and empowered. I don’t care. I am committed to the ongoing work of joy, and I don’t mean a deaf-and-dumb, smiley-face-emoji brand of joy. I’m talking eyes-wide-open joy that sees the world for what it is and chooses to remain soft anyway. I’m talking about joy despite.

Consider a congenitally deaf person hearing a sublime symphony during a psychedelic session. That person would not be able to recognise, to know, that this symphony was sound, let alone music – but the person would no doubt come to stress the ineffable experience as awe-inspiring. And so it can be with us and our other awe-inspiring, yet ineffable, psychedelic experiences. We are offered entry into other modes of value.

To remain motivated, be deaf to people who keep saying to you that it can’t be done.

When you hear love calling you, don’t pretend to be deaf.

Since I was a big reader, I might be able to accomplish something. I had no gift. That didn’t mean I must be a deprived person. Besides, why had the Enlightenment poured its seductive light all across the European continent right into the poor endangered households of Ukrainian Jews? Probably, my mother thought, so that a child, any child (even a tone-deaf one), could be given a chance despite genetic deficiency to become, in my mother’s embarrassed hopeful world, a whole person.

Hold your ground and walk your path, deaf to misconceptions, fears and doubts of those who don't dare to live their own lives. Walk your path fearless like a lion and tender like morning dew.

You do know that deaf people we are the loudest, most stubborn, smartest minds whether born deaf or became deaf later on in life.

The blind man fears no darkness, the deaf man fears no noise. The confident man fears no mirror, the innocent fears no lie. But only the enlightened fear nothing.

I don't use the word "can't" because I don't believe in limiting myself. I am able. I am capable. I am strong. Never think less of yourself because society expects you to behave in a certain way. We decide our own limits. I have chosen to have none.