Deborah Day Quotes

You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.

Make a pledge to yourself right now, to declare that you are worth your time and energy.

Connecting with those you know love, like and appreciate you restores the spirit and give you energy to keep moving forward in this life.

Lighten up on yourself. No one is perfect. Gently accept your humanness.

Encourage, lift and strengthen one another. For the positive energy spread to one will be felt by us all. For we are connected, one and all.

Evaluating the benefits and drawbacks of any relationship is your responsibility. You do not have to passively accept what is brought to you. You can choose.

Recognizing that you are not where you want to be is a starting point to begin changing your life.

Nourishing yourself in a way that helps you blossom in the direction you want to go is attainable, and you are worth the effort.

Build me up and I with you. For we are more one than two.

These days vampires gravitated toward particle accelerators, projects to decode the genome, and molecular biology. Once they had flocked to alchemy, anatomy, and electricity. If it went bang, involved blood, or promised to unlock the secrets of the universe, there was sure to be a vampire around.

One day you will wonder what was so important that you put off doing the most important things. 'Someday' can be a thief in the night.

Renewal requires opening yourself up to new ways of thinking and feeling

Flexibility requires an open mind and a welcoming of new alternatives.

My life now has a beginning, a middle, and an end. Everything before was preamble. Now I have you. One day you will be gone, and my life will be over.

You will be your best self when you take time to understand what you really need, feel and want.

You will have fewer regrets in life if you start focusing and taking responsiblity for where you are and where you want to be.

Positive energy is attracted to positive energy.

Living in a way that reflects one's values is not just about what you do, it is also about how you do things.

Your choice is to be active or passive in your responses.

As much as I try to make the past keep still and mind its manners, it moves and murmurs with me through every day.

Within days they'd formed an unholy alliance with a foppish young French vampire in the Garden District who had implausibly golden hair and a streak of ruthlessness as wide as the Mississippi

Encourage, lift and strenthen one another. For the positive energy spread to one will be felt by us all.

The goal is to learn to be nurturing with yourself so you can feel free.

A positive attitude from you tends to produce a positive attitude toward you.

The truth is that you are innately good, wise, and powerful. You were created in and for good.

If you are unclear about what attitudes you adhere to, you will have a difficult time evaluation which ones are not serving your highest good.

Gentleness towards self and others makes life a little lighter.

Wisdom comes from reflection.

Nobody really owns anything. We give back our bodies at the end of our lives. We own our thoughts, but everything else is just borrowed. We use it for a while, then pass it on. Everything. We borrow the sun that shines on us today from the people on the other side of the world while they borrow the moon from us. Then we give it back. We can't keep the sun, no matter how afraid we are of the dark.

You don't have to be like anyone else. You just need to learn more about your own creative self and start blooming.

You must know, surely you must know, it was all for you. You are too generous to trifle with me. I believe you spoke with my aunt last night, and it has taught me to hope as I'd scarcely allowed myself before. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever. If, however, your feelings have changed, I would have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love... I love... I love you. And I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.

I look forward to the day when women with leadership and insight, gifts and talents, callings and prophetic leanings are called out and celebrated as Deborah, instead of silenced as Jezebel.

The best way to insure you achieve the greatest satisfaction out of life is to behave intentionally.

The more you take responsibility for your attitudes, the more you can adjust yourself in a forward thinking manner.

Every goal first started as something in our mind. You have it all within you!

It's hard to stay committed when our heart isn't in it.

One is often so busy doing life that it is easy to avoid evaluating whether you are putting your energy in the direction you value most.

Your purpose is your why.

Build me up and I with you. For we are more one than two.

If you put out acceptance and warmth, you tend to attract the same.

I have never got a grip on when the past begins or where it ends, but if cities map the past with statues made from bronze forever frozen in one dignified position, as much as I try to make the past keep still and mind its manners, it moves and murmurs with me through every day.

Vote?” Matthew said, incredulous. “Since when did we vote in this family?” “Since Marcus took over the Knights of Lazarus,” Gallowglass replied, drawing a silver lighter from his pocket. “We’ve been choking on democracy since the day you left.

The pain of losing Deborah still brings tears. And I cannot mask my profound disappointment that God did not answer yes to our prayers for healing. I think He's okay with that. One of the phrases we evangelicals like to throw around is that Christianity is 'not a religion; it's a relationship.' I believe that, which is why I know that when my faith was shattered and raged against Him, He still accepted me. And even though I have penciled a black mark in His column, I can be honest about it. That's what a relationship is all about.

Diana: You are everything we dreamed you would one day become. Life is the strong warp of time. Death is only the weft. It will be because of your children, and your children’s children, that I will live forever. Dad   P.S. Every time you read “something is rotten in the state of Denmark” in Hamlet, think of me.

Being truly happy in life involves you feeling more in control of the direction your life is going.

Give me knowledge of my end and the measure of my days, so I may know my fraility. My lifetime is no longer than the width of my hand. It is only a moment, compared to yours.

Rewriting the negative beliefs you have learned is the essence of becoming the director of your life.

Beliefs that are good promote your potential and enhance your unique special qualities.

To get where you want to be, you must first know where you are.

No, I’m a vampire.” Matthew stepped forward, joining Chris under the projector’s light. “And before you ask, I can go outside during the day and my hair won’t catch fire in the sunlight. I’m Catholic and have a crucifix. When I sleep, which is not often, I prefer a bed to a coffin. If you try to stake me, the wood will likely splinter before it enters my skin.” He bared his teeth. “No fangs either. And one last thing: I do not, nor have I ever, sparkled.” Matthew’s face darkened to emphasize the point. I

Now I have you. One day you will be gone, and my life will be over.

Often when a woman exhibits leadership, she’s accused of having that Jezebel spirit. I look forward to the day when women with leadership and insight, gifts and talents, callings and prophetic leanings are called out and celebrated as a Deborah, instead of silenced as a Jezebel.

Igniting your creative potentials opens you up to new learnings and insights.

Your beliefs have the power to unlock your inner genius or keep you from fully achieving your greatest potential.

Connection is life; disconnection, death.

play with whatever the day brought in.

What is worse? To be chained all day with a bowl of water, or to be free and die of thirst?

The daemon glanced at his watch. The day was young, but he already knew why his friend was in Scotland. Matthew Clairmont was falling in love.

Imagine how Nathaniel might drive if he actually was an old lady—a centuries-old old lady, like me. That’s how I will drive for the rest of my days, so long as you are in the car.

Father, R.I.P., Sums Me Up at Twenty-Three She has no head for politics, craves good jewelry, trusts too readily, marries too early. Then one by one she sends away her friends and stands apart, smug sapphire, her answer to everything a slender zero, a silent shrug--and every day still hears me say she'll never be pretty. Instead she reads novels, instead her belt matches her shoes. She is master of the condolence letter, and knows how to please a man with her mouth: Good. Nose too large, eyes too closely set, hair not glorious blonde, not her mother's red, nor the glossy black her younger sister has, the little raven I loved best.

Loners are the opposition. Pensive, thoughtful and furious, marooned with stories that need to be spoken out loud and no one to listen, curries to be cooked and no one to taste, days and days of traffic signals to be manoeuvred and no one to congratulate except other loners: they find each other because like all good maps there are familiar signs that lead the way. The loner who both observes and creates worlds necessarily speaks with many tongues. It is with these tongues that she explores the contours of the centre and the margins, the signs for somewhere and elsewhere and here and now.

To feel more fulfilled your actions and activities need to be in alignment with what you deem important.

It was hard to say which one was real – the face she showed the world during the day or the one she hid at night. Maybe neither.

None of her seemed to be missing, but it was impossible to see every part of a person, wasn't it? People were like treasure chests, full of secrets that never saw the light of day.

As for this darkness we all feel, you will tell me about it one day. I will not take the knowledge from you.

I might one day risk falling in love again, but I was not going to lose my heart to the cardiologist.

Art and music must come from the heart,” Matthew said, gripping his great-grandson by the shoulder. “Even the darkest places need to be brought into the light of day, or else they’ll grow until they swallow a man whole.

We have to remember this,” Parvana said. “When things get better and we grow up, we have to remember that there was a day when we were kids when we stood in a graveyard and dug up bones to sell so that our families could eat.

Dear Deborah, Words do not come easily for so many men. We are taught to be strong, to provide, to put away our emotions. A father can work his way through his days and never see that his years are going by. If I could go back in time, I would say some things to that young father as he holds, somewhat uncertainly, his daughter for the very first time. These are the things I would say: When you hear the first whimper in the night, go to the nursery leaving your wife sleeping. Rock in a chair, walk the floor, sing a lullaby so that she will know a man can be gentle. When Mother is away for the evening, come home from work, do the babysitting. Learn to cook a hotdog or a pot of spaghetti, so that your daughter will know a man can serve another's needs. When she performs in school plays or dances in recitals, arrive early, sit in the front seat, devote your full attention. Clap the loudest, so that she will know a man can have eyes only for her. When she asks for a tree house, don't just build it, but build it with her. Sit high among the branches and talk about clouds, and caterpillars, and leaves. Ask her about her dreams and wait for her answers, so that she will know a man can listen. When you pass by her door as she dresses for a date, tell her she is beautiful. Take her on a date yourself. Open doors, buy flowers, look her in the eye, so that she will know a man can respect her. When she moves away from home, send a card, write a note, call on the phone. If something reminds you of her, take a minute to tell her, so that she will know a man can think of her even when she is away. Tell her you love her, so that she will know a man can say the words. If you hurt her, apologize, so that she will know a man can admit that he's wrong. These seem like such small things, such a fraction of time in the course of two lives. But a thread does not require much space. It can be too fine for the eye to see, yet, it is the very thing that binds, that takes pieces and laces them into a whole. Without it, there are tatters. It is never too late for a man to learn to stitch, to begin mending. These are the things I would tell that young father, if I could. A daughter grown up quickly. There isn't time to waste. I love you, Dad

To be a vampire you must choose life—your life, not someone else’s—over and over again, day after day,” Ysabeau said. “You must choose it over sleep, over peace, over grief, over death. In the end, it is our relentless drive to live that defines us. Without that, we are nothing but a nightmare or a ghost: a shadow of the humans we once were.

Choosing to be deligent in all areas of your life is not for the weak of heart. It requires hope, strength and the ability to see the light through the fog.

Be your authentic self! Who you truly are; not who you learned to be.

Even the darkest places need to be brought into the light of day, or else they’ll grow until they swallow a man whole.

Evelyn’s New Age daughter will discover that a good shag beats hugging a guru any day.” — Helen Falconer, book reviewer for The Guardian

But in my heart, especially given the past few days, I knew…

It is a nice sunny day; his bunions have stopped hurting. There is always something to celebrate, in Gerrit’s view.

I encourage you to commit to making your life the life you want to live and embrace it!

it is possible that we’ll look back one day and discover that it was the miniatures that made all the difference.

A life without swimming every day was not a life I wanted.

Great Goddess, Great God, I come before you at the end of another day and thank you for the many blessings in my life. For friends and family and pets, for home and health and good food. I thank you for (the names of whichever people crossed my path that day in meaningful ways) and for (whatever good things happened or whichever not-so-great things they helped me survive.). Please help me to get a good night's sleep so I might wake in the morning refreshed and energized and ready to face another day. Watch over me and those I love. So mote it be.

I was attuned to the rhythms of the earth and sky in ways that I had not been before I lived in a time when the day was organized around the height of the sun instead of the dial of a clock, and the seasons of the year determined everything from what you ate to the physic that you took.

Don’t let fear of other people’s reactions or rejection paralyze you from moving forward. You are more valuable than you think. Besides, you have powerful friends in high places—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!

*Terminal* is a harsh word when used in the context of death and not one we'd ever uttered aloud. But according to Webster's, it's also a place people pass through on their way to somewhere else. Deborah knew her "somewhere else" was heaven. She was just hoping the rain was delayed. I scooped a tear off her cheek and tried to slip around her question. "We're all terminal," I said, smiling gently. "None of us makes it out of here alive.

Dinner is the most like jazz of all the meals, in that jazz is part form and part improvisation. You decide what you’re going to have, and then while you’re preparing it – because it’s the end of the day and you have the time – you have the room to consider things about it, to change things about it. You make it something new. “I think I’ll add a little chili powder.” ~ Seth Asa, age 37 From Dinnertimes: Stories of American Life, 1912 to 2012

I am not aware at this moment that I have lost my innocence. I will realize it many years later. One day I will look back and understand that just as there was a moment in my life when I realized where my power lay, there was also a specific moment when I stopped believing in authority just for its own sake and started coming to my own conclusions about the world I lived in.

We have been the recipients of the choicest bounties of heaven. We have been preserved, these many years, in peace and prosperity. We have grown in numbers, wealth and power, as no other nation has ever grown. But we have forgotten God. We have forgotten the gracious hand which preserved us in peace, and multiplied and enriched and strengthened us; and we have vainly imagined, in the deceitfulness of our hearts, that all these blessings were produced by some superior wisdom and virtue of our own. Intoxicated with unbroken success, we have become too self-sufficient to feel the necessity of redeeming and preserving grace, too proud to pray to the God that made us! It behooves us, then to humble ourselves before the offended Power, to confess our national sins, and to pray for clemency and forgiveness. Abraham Lincoln, “A National Day of Fasting, Humiliation, and Prayer.” Proclamation March 30, 1863

In the early days of a relationship, we all pretend to be something we are not. It might be as simple as pretending to be more outgoing than we really are, or more tolerant, or feigning cool when we feel anything but. There are infinitely subtle grades of pretense.

We have to remember this,” Parvana said. “When things get better and we grow up, we have to remember that there was a day when we were kids when we stood in a graveyard and dug up bones to sell so that our families could eat." "Will anyone believe us?" "No. But we will know it happens

Adrenaline poisoning,’ one of my doctors had called these surges of anxiety that had troubled me since childhood. The doctors explained that, for reasons they could not understand, my body seemed to think it was in a constant state of danger. One of the specialists my aunt consulted explained earnestly that it was a biochemical leftover from hunter-gatherer days. I’d be all right so long as I rid my bloodstream of the adrenaline load

She has been through tough times yet she chooses never to give up hope, even when the day turns dark for her she always tries to bring light into it. She is a woman that never believes in failure. Give her sand and she will turn it into a moulding block. When you humiliate her she sees it as courage. She is an example of hope. She has a concept of self fulfilment, she has the ability to stand up to the antagonist. She is an example of a strong woman.

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

God and Goddess, I greet you at the start of another day and ask that you send me the best day possible. Help me to feel my best so I might do my best for myself and for others. Send me the strength and energy to do the things I need to do, and the focus and creativity to do them well. Help me to let go of all those things that no longer work for my benefit so I might move in the direction of perfect health and perfect balance. Help the world move in a better direction, and watch over me and those I love. Please send me prosperity and healing, patience and wisdom, serenity and faith. ... So mote it be.

Roger left the cricket stumps and they went into the drawing room. Grandpapa, at the first suggestion of reading aloud, had disappeared, taking Patch with him. Grandmama had cleared away the tea. She found her spectacles and the book. It was Black Beauty. Grandmama kept no modern children's books, and this made common ground for the three of them. She read the terrible chapter where the stable lad lets Beauty get overheated and gives him a cold drink and does not put on his blanket. The story was suited to the day. Even Roger listened entranced. And Deborah, watching her grandmother's calm face and hearing her careful voice reading the sentences, thought how strange it was that Grandmama could turn herself into Beauty with such ease. She was a horse, suffering there with pneumonia in the stable, being saved by the wise coachman. After the reading, cricket was anticlimax, but Deborah must keep her bargain. She kept thinking of Black Beauty writing the book. It showed how good the story was, Grandmama said, because no child had ever yet questioned the practical side of it, or posed the picture of a horse with a pen in its hoof. "A modern horse would have a typewriter," thought Deborah, and she began to bowl to Roger, smiling to herself as she did so because of the twentieth-century Beauty clacking with both hoofs at a machine. ("The Pool")

At the end, in Harry’s handiwork, there’s nothing sentimental about love, no sunlit clouds and glory notes—it’s a substantial, earthbound connection, grounded in effort, kindness, and decency. Learning to love, Harry liked to say, is really about learning to live. Perhaps everyday affection seems a small facet of love. Perhaps, though, it is the modest, steady responses that see us through day after day, that stretch into a life of close and loving relationships.

A Mother’s Advice Manners matter, regardless of your position in society. There is no excuse in this world to practice bad manners, especially at the table. I found that out in high school. I was invited to my boyfriend’s house for dinner. His parents were somewhat formal, and I knew the dinner would be “fancy,” at least in my mind. My family wasn’t upper class (or even middle class), and my mother never had what would be called “social graces.” Before I left, my mother gave me a piece of advice: hold your head high, be quiet, and take the lead from his mother. Even though I was scared to death, I did what my mother advised and got through the experience with flying colors. To this day, my mother’s advice has gotten me through many difficult situations, especially ones that are totally new to me! With my mother’s simple advice, I know I could dine with the Queen of England, just by following her lead. Thanks, Mother! -Deborah Ford

That spring when life was very hard and I was at war with my lot and simply couldn’t see where there was to get to, I seemed to cry most on escalators at train stations. Going down them was fine but there was something about standing still and being carried upwards that did it. From apparently nowhere tears poured out of me and by the time I got to the top and felt the wind rushing in, it took all my effort to stop myself from sobbing. It was as if the momentum of the escalator carrying me forwards and upwards was a physical expression of a conversation I was having with myself. Escalators, which in the early days of their invention were known as ‘travelling staircases’ or ‘magic stairways’, had mysteriously become danger zones.

No wonder women told him their thoughts like they told no other man. Rabah admired their bodies and laughed at their jokes. He looked like what he was a desired and much loved man with light in his eyes and money in the bank. But he also hurt women. I have seen them weep over Rabah because he removed his affection and attention and the light in his eyes shone on someone else. How was it that he could love me one day and not love me the next? What do you do with the love you feel if it is not returned?

My name is Koshka, and this Human person is Jazz. She is the protégé of the Baba Yaga Bella, and I am Bella’s Chudo-Yudo.” “Oh,” said the Dwarf, and doffed his hat, briefly revealing a shiny bald spot before putting it back on again. “Why didn’t you say so?” He scowled. “I thought you were door-to-door salesmen.” “Do you get a lot of that in the Otherworld?” Jazz asked, genuinely interested in the answer. Somehow she hadn’t imagined that would be a problem here. Smythe shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ve heard all about them, and I expect they’ll turn up any day.

Being an audience for God also means we have to get off center stage. We don’t need to be the center of attention and activity all the time. I think it might surprise us to realize how much crazy activity we create in our days just so we can feel important. We wear our busyness like a badge, like our busyness would somehow impress the rest of the world, or impress ourselves. How many of us go to bed with a sense of accomplishment because we checked a lot of things off our task list or someone told us how “great” we were, or we “helped” others? What if walked off stage altogether and put God there instead. Maybe then we could go to sleep at night, not with a sense of accomplishment, but with a sense of wonder, because all day we had been an attentive audience to the divine play.

They had shared much of their pasts, most of their fears, and all of their tenuous and fragile hopes, but Deborah had noticed over the years that whenever she mentioned her art, or something on which she was working, a subtle change would come over Carla. Her face would harden almost imperceptibly; her manner would edge toward coolness. Because it was a subtle emotion in a world of erratic oscillations of feeling, of violence, and of lies told by every sense of perception, Deborah had not noticed it in their sick times. But one day the world had cleared enough so that she realised that at any mention of her art, her friend drew back. In their new eagerness for experience and reality, the strange aloofness stood out clearly. [...] She had a dream. In the dream it was winter and night. The sky was thick blue-black and the stars were frozen in it, so that they glimmered. Over the clean white and windswept hills the shadows of snowdrifts drew long. She was walking on the crust of snow, watching the star-glimmer and the snow-glimmer and the cold tear-glimmer in her own eyes. A deep voice said to her, "You know, don't you, that the stars are sound as well as light?" She listened and heard a lullaby made by the voices of the stars, sounding so beautiful together that she began to cry with it. The voice said, "Look out there." She looked toward the horizon. "See, it is a sweep, a curve." Then the voice said, "This night is a curve of darkness and the space beyond it is a curve of human history, with every single life an arch from birth to death. The apex of all of these single curves determines the curve of history and, at last, of man." "I cannot show you yours," the voice said, "but I can show you Carla's. Dig here, deep in the snow. It is buried and frozen - Dig deep." Deborah pushed the snow aside with her hands. It was very cold, but she worked with a great intensity as if there were salvation in it. At last her hand struck something and she tore it up from burial. It was a piece of bone, thick and very strong and curved in a long, high, steady curve. "Is this Carla's life?" she asked. "Her creativity?" "It is bone-deep with her, though buried and frozen." The voice paused a moment and then said, "It's a fine one - a fine solid one!" [...] "Please don't be angry," she said, and then told Carla the dream. [...] She wiped her eyes. "It was only a dream, your dream..." "It's true anyway," Deborah said. "The one place I could never go..." Carla said musing, "...the one hunger I could never admit." When Deborah finished, Furii said, "You always took your art for granted, didn't you? I used to read in the ward reports all the time how you managed to do your drawing in spite of every sort of inconvenience and restriction.