Declare War On Yourself Quotes

But the greatest battle of all is with yourself—your weaknesses, your emotions, your lack of resolution in seeing things through to the end. You must declare unceasing war on yourself.

when you educate yourself about clitoredectomies, infibulation, forced prostitution, rape as a war tactic, patriarchal religions, women painters, filmmakers, poets, writers, activists, politicians, sex-industry workers, historians, archelogoists and musicians, that’s self-protection.

You don't arm yourself after war has been declared, Stephan. You build your army so big that no one dares pick the fight.

I don't believe in positive thinking as a replacement for God but as a response to God. My goal isn't that you would see your metaphorical cup as half full: I want you to see it as constantly overflowing!

She did not understand that there was no such thing as happiness, that the only victory lay in the far future, long after you were dead, that from the moment of declaring war on the Party it was better to think of yourself as a corpse.

Our goal should be to pray such gutsy prayers that God says amen to us.

You don’t have the power to control the people, situations, and circumstances around you. You only have the power to control yourself.

It’s when you humble yourself as a servant that people want to follow you as a leader.

Nothing so influences your life as your ability to control your spirit in the midst of volatile feelings and the madness of life.

Of course people will try to take a bite out of you when you dare to do something great--for many of them it will be the only taste of greatness they will ever have!

She would not accept it as a law of nature that the individual is always defeated. In a way she realized that she herself was doomed, that sooner or later the Thought Police would catch her and kill her, but with another part of her mind she believed that it was somehow possible to construct a secret world in which you could live as you chose. All you needed was luck and cunning and boldness. She did not understand that there was no such thing as happiness that the only victory lay in the far future, long after you were dead, that from the moment of declaring war on the Party it was better to think of yourself as a corpse.

Spiritualize your warfare. Every day you face battles—that is the reality for all creatures in their struggle to survive. But the greatest battle of all is with yourself—your weaknesses, your emotions, your lack of resolution in seeing things through to the end. You must declare unceasing war on yourself. As a warrior in life, you welcome combat and conflict as ways to prove yourself, to better your skills, to gain courage, confidence, and experience. Instead of repressing your doubts and fears, you must face them down, do battle with them. You want more chal-xx lenges, and you invite more war. You are forging the warrior’s spirit, and only constant practice will lead you there.

A prince is also respected when he is either a true friend or a downright enemy, that to say, when, without any reservation, he declares himself in favour of one party against the other; which course will always be more advantageous than standing neutral; because if two of your powerful neighbours come to blows, they are of such a character that, if one of them conquers, you have either to fear him or not. In either case it will always be more advantageous for you to declare yourself and to make war strenuously; because, in the first case, if you do not declare yourself, you will invariably fall a prey to the conqueror, to the pleasure and satisfaction of him who has been conquered, and you will have no reasons to offer, nor anything to protect or to shelter you. Because he who conquers does not want doubtful friends who will not aid him in the time of trial; and he who loses will not harbour you because you did not willingly, sword in hand, court his fate.

Your words can unlock a life you love or one you loathe. It is up to you whether the self-fulfilling prophecies you articulate become a delight or a dungeon. Fortunately, as C. S. Lewis wrote, “The doors of hell are locked on the inside.” If you talked your way into your current mess, you can very likely talk your way out. One of my favorite Bible

Maybe, like me, you have gotten so good at listening to yourself that you have forgotten to speak to yourself. It’s easy to drift along with the speakers of your soul blasting the play-by-play commentary of your naturally negative self. It’s time you fire yourself as your personal critic and rehire yourself as a coach. You can alter how you feel through changing the way you speak.

I am a Roman,' he said to the king; 'my name is Gaius Mucius. I came here to kill you - my enemy. I have as much courage to die as to kill. It is our Roman way to do and to suffer bravely. Nor am I alone in my resolve against your life; behind me is a long line of men eager for the same honor. Brace yourself, if you will, for the struggle - a struggle for your life from hour to hour, with an armed enemy always at your door. That is the war we declare against you: you need fear no action in the battlefield, army against army; it will be fought against you alone, by one of us at a time.' Porsena in rage and alarm ordered the prisoner to be burnt alive unless he at once divulged the plot thus obscurely hinted at, whereupon Mucius, crying: 'See how cheap men hold their bodies when they care only for honor!' thrust his right hand into the fire which had been kindled for a sacrifice, and let it burn there as if he were unconscious of the pain. Porsena was so astonished by the young man's almost superhuman endurance that he leapt to his feet and ordered his guards to drag him from the altar. 'Go free,' he said; 'you have dared to be a worse enemy to yourself than to me. I should bless your courage, if it lay with my country to dispose of it. But, as that cannot be, I, as an honorable enemy, grant you pardon, life, and liberty.' 'Since you respect courage,' Mucius replied, as if he were thanking him for his generosity, 'I will tell you in gratitude what you could not force from me by threats. There are three hundred of us in Rome, all young like myself, and all of noble blood, who have sworn an attempt upon your life in this fashion. It was I who drew the first lot; the rest will follow, each in his turn and time, until fortune favor us and we have got you.' The release of Mucius (who was afterwards known as Scaevola, or the Left-Handed Man, from the loss of his right hand) was quickly followed by the arrival in Rome of envoys from Porsena. The first attempt upon his life, foiled only by a lucky mistake, and the prospect of having to face the same thing again from every one of the remaining conspirators, had so shaken the king that he was coming forward with proposals for peace.

Poor man, you cannot even reconcile what you believe in your heart to be true and what you are obliged to write in the quarterly reviews. Can you go back to London and tell this odd tale? For I think you will find that it is full of all kinds of nonsense that Mr Norrell will not like Raven Kings and the magic of wild creatures and the magic of women. You are no match for us, for we three are quite united, while you, sir, for all your cleverness, are at war, even with yourself. If ever a time comes, when your heart and your head declare a truce, then I suggest you come back to Grace Adieu and then you may tell us what magic we may or may not do.

Some hours later, in the first grey light, Jack awoke to a faint scratching on the door. His waking mind stated that this was a rat in the bread-room, but his body instantly contradicted it – sleeping or awake his body knew whether it was afloat or not; at no time was it ever unaware of the continual shift and heave of the sea, or of the unnatural stability of the land. He opened his eyes and saw Stephen rise from his guttering candle, open the door, receive a bottle and a folded note. He went back to his table, opened the note, slowly deciphered it, burnt both scraps of paper in the candle flame; without turning round he said, ‘Jack, you are awake, I believe?’ ‘Yes. These last five minutes. A good morning to you, Stephen. Is it going to be hot?’ ‘It is. And a good morning to you, my dear. Listen,’ he said, sinking his voice to no more than a whisper, ‘and do not call out or agitate yourself. Do you hear me now?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘War will be declared tomorrow. Bonaparte is seizing all British subjects.

Israel, and you who call yourself Israel, the Church that calls itself Israel, and the revolt that calls itself Israel, and every nation chosen to be a nation – none of these lands is yours, all of you are thieves of holiness, all of you at war with Mercy. Who will say it? Will America say, We have stolen it, or France step down? Will Russia confess, or Poland say, We have sinned? All bloated on their scraps of destiny, all swaggering in the immunity of superstition. Ishmael, who was saved in the wilderness, and given shade in the desert, and a deadly treasure under you: has Mercy made you wise? Will Ishmael declare, We are in debt forever? Therefore the lands belong to none of you, the borders do not hold, the Law will never serve the lawless. To every people the land is given on condition. Perceived or not, there is a covenant, beyond the constitution, beyond sovereign guarantee, beyond the nation’s sweetest dreams of itself. The Covenant is broken, the condition is dishonoured, have you not noticed that the world has been taken away? You have no place, you will wander through yourselves from generation to generation without a thread. Therefore you rule over chaos, you hoist your flags with no authority, and the heart that is still alive hates you, and the remnant of Mercy is ashamed to look at you. You decompose behind your flimsy armour, your stench alarms you, your panic strikes at love. The land is not yours, the land has been taken back, your shrines fall through empty air, your tablets are quickly revised, and you bow down in hell beside your hired torturers, and still you count your battalions and crank out your marching songs. Your righteous enemy is listening. He hears your anthem full of blood and vanity, and your children singing to themselves. He has overturned the vehicle of nationhood, he has spilled the precious cargo, and every nation he has taken back. Because you are swollen with your little time. Because you do not wrestle with your angel. Because you dare to live without God. Because your cowardice has led you to believe that the victor does not limp.

Why did you come to the United States? Perhaps no one knows the real answer. I know that migrants, when they are still on their way here, learn the Immigrant’s Prayer. A friend who had been aboard La Bestia for a few days, working on a documentary, read it to me once. I didn’t learn the entire thing, but I remember these lines: “Partir es morir un poco / Llegar nunca es llegar”—“To leave is to die a little / To arrive is never to arrive.” I’ve had to ask so many children: Why did you come? Sometimes I ask myself the same question. I don’t have an answer yet. Before coming to the United States, I knew what others know: that the cruelty of its borders was only a thin crust, and that on the other side a possible life was waiting. I understood, some time after, that once you stay here long enough, you begin to remember the place where you originally came from the way a backyard might look from a high window in the deep of winter: a skeleton of the world, a tract of abandonment, objects dead and obsolete. And once you’re here, you’re ready to give everything, or almost everything, to stay and play a part in the great theater of belonging. In the United States, to stay is an end in itself and not a means: to stay is the founding myth of this society. To stay in the United States, you will unlearn the universal metric system so you can buy a pound and a half of cooked ham, accept that thirty-two degrees, and not zero, is where the line falls that divides cold and freezing. You might even begin to celebrate the pilgrims who removed the alien Indians, and the veterans who maybe killed other aliens, and the day of a president who will eventually declare a war on all the other so-called aliens. No matter the cost. No matter the cost of the rent, and milk, and cigarettes. The humiliations, the daily battles. You will give everything. You will convince yourself that it is only a matter of time before you can be yourself again, in America, despite the added layers of its otherness already so well adhered to your skin. But perhaps you will never want to be your former self again. There are too many things that ground you to this new life. Why did you come here? I asked one little girl once. Because I wanted to arrive.

Anarchism is the great liberator of man from the phantoms that have held him captive; it is the arbiter and pacifier of the two forces for individual and social harmony. To accomplish that unity, Anarchism has declared war on the pernicious influences which have so far prevented the harmonious blending of individual and social instincts, the individual and society. Religion, the dominion of the human mind; Property, the dominion of human needs; and Government, the dominion of human conduct, represent the stronghold of man's enslavement and all the horrors it entails. Religion! How it dominates man's mind, how it humiliates and degrades his soul. God is everything, man is nothing, says religion. But out of that nothing God has created a kingdom so despotic, so tyrannical, so cruel, so terribly exacting that naught but gloom and tears and blood have ruled the world since gods began. Anarchism rouses man to rebellion against this black monster. Break your mental fetters, says Anarchism to man, for not until you think and judge for yourself will you get rid of the dominion of darkness, the greatest obstacle to all progress. Property, the dominion of man's needs, the denial of the right to satisfy his needs. Time was when property claimed a divine right, when it came to man with the same refrain, even as religion, "Sacrifice! Abnegate! Submit!" The spirit of Anarchism has lifted man from his prostrate position. He now stands erect, with his face toward the light. He has learned to see the insatiable, devouring, devastating nature of property, and he is preparing to strike the monster dead. "Property is robbery," said the great French Anarchist, Proudhon. Yes, but without risk and danger to the robber. Monopolizing the accumulated efforts of man, property has robbed him of his birthright, and has turned him loose a pauper and an outcast. Property has not even the time-worn excuse that man does not create enough to satisfy all needs. The A B C student of economics knows that the productivity of labor within the last few decades far exceeds normal demand a hundredfold. But what are normal demands to an abnormal institution? The only demand that property recognizes is its own gluttonous appetite for greater wealth, because wealth means power; the power to subdue, to crush, to exploit, the power to enslave, to outrage, to degrade. America is particularly boastful of her great power, her enormous national wealth. Poor America, of what avail is all her wealth, if the individuals comprising the nation are wretchedly poor? If they live in squalor, in filth, in crime, with hope and joy gone, a homeless, soilless army of human prey. It is generally conceded that unless the returns of any business venture exceed the cost, bankruptcy is inevitable. But those engaged in the business of producing wealth have not yet learned even this simple lesson. Every year the cost of production in human life is growing larger (50,000 killed, 100,000 wounded in America last year); the returns to the masses, who help to create wealth, are ever getting smaller. Yet America continues to be blind to the inevitable bankruptcy of our business of production. Nor is this the only crime of the latter. Still more fatal is the crime of turning the producer into a mere particle of a machine, with less will and decision than his master of steel and iron. Man is being robbed not merely of the products of his labor, but of the power of free initiative, of originality, and the interest in, or desire for, the things he is making.

I picture the look of judgement on the faces of people who stumble into this neighborhood by mistake. I can see them now. The people from stable families, who glance at addicts and shake their heads and say, "I would never do that to myself." I feel an urge stop them and wave Gabor's statistics in their face and say - Don't you see? You wouldn't do this to yourself because you don't have to. You never had to learn to cope with more pain that you could bear. You might as well look at somebody who had their legs amputated in a car crash and declare: "Well, I would never have my legs cut off." No. You haven't been in a car crash. These addicts - they have been in car crashes of the soul.

Unfortunately, Stand Your Ground laws have recently become the subject of a racially-charged debate. President Obama and then-Attorney General Holder have weighed in, suggesting that Stand Your Ground laws do not apply equally to all races. And in 2013 on ABC News’s This Week, Tavis Smiley declared: “It appears to me, and I think many other persons in this country, that you can in fact stand your ground unless you are a black man.”5 In fact, blacks living in high-crime urban areas are the most likely victims of violent crime and the most likely beneficiaries of Stand Your Ground laws. Blacks are disproportionately affected by rules that make self-defense more difficult.

What was it that had been the magic of Vienna? It was a lack of weighing every step you took. It was a letting-go of yourself, allowing yourself to be swept away by everything that had nothing to do with reason and everything to do with the heart. Try to declare war on charm! And you will lose your life. What a futile thing it is not to wish to show your feelings. If you do not show them you have none to show. If you have none to show you brand them as sentimental.

Measure yourself against the enemy before declaring war; those who fail to hunt the foxes in the neighbourhood should stay clear of the elephants.

When you choose to declare war, you are refusing to go gently in the night or to be taken without a fight. You are declaring war on the version of yourself that you don’t want to be. You’re choosing a different direction.

The Authority has said: Dream! But in truth , they mete out our destinies in tiny rations; they’ve said how far we can go, how long, and where. Aspirations are useless, because to aspire, is to reach. Dream, they say, but not too big. Laugh, they say, but not too loudly . Love, they say, but not too hard. When you find you cannot contain yourself any longer and you imagine things beyond the walls they’ve built for you, constructed to imprison your desires, and when your heart is filled with impossible things, then, I say, you have achieved true independence. Our Anarchy is not simply a battle of flesh and blood; it is a war of the mind. The time is always now to declare your freedom!

You know that you are not a hero and that you never wanted to be the one. You have never wanted to die for your nation, or for freedom, or for anything else, for that matter: the fates of Winkelried and Ordon [legendary heroes who died for their countries, which were overwhelmed by superior enemies] have never tempted you. You have always wanted to be alive, to live like a normal person, to have respect for yourself and for your friends. You have always enjoyed the moral comfort that allows you to take pleasure in your inner freedom, in beautiful women, and in wine. This war surprised you in the company of a pretty woman, not while you were plotting an assault on the Central Committee headquarters. Nevertheless, they did declare this war on you and over thirty million other people, and so you are forced to recognise that amid the street roundups, the ignoble court sentences, the despicable radio programs, and the distribution of leaflets by underground Solidarity you will not regain the normalcy that was based on respect for yourself. Now you must choose between moral and material stability, because you know that today's "normalcy" will have the bitter taste of self-defeat. And you will not, for the sake of life's enjoyments, give in to the tempting offers of freedom made by the policeman, who seeks to delude you with promises of happiness but really brings suffering and inner hell instead. No, this is not heroism. It is mere common sense.

You know that you are no hero and that you never wanted to be the one. You have never wanted to die for your nation, or for freedom, or for anything else, for that matter: the fates of Winkelried and Ordon [legendary heroes who died for their countries, which were overwhelmed by superior enemies] have never tempted you. You have always wanted to be alive, to live like a normal person, to have respect for yourself and for your friends. You have always enjoyed the moral comfort that allows you to take pleasure in your inner freedom, in beautiful women, and in wine. This war surprised you in the company of a pretty woman, not while you were plotting an assault on the Central Committee headquarters. Nevertheless, they did declare this war on you and over thirty million other people, and so you are forced to recognise that amid the street roundups, the ignoble court sentences, the despicable radio programs, and the distribution of leaflets by underground Solidarity you will not regain the normalcy that was based on respect for yourself. Now you must choose between moral and material stability, because you know that today's "normalcy" will have the bitter taste of self-defeat. And you will not, for the sake of life's enjoyments, give in to the tempting offers of freedom made by the policeman, who seeks to delude you with promises of happiness but really brings suffering and inner hell instead. No, this is not heroism. It is mere common sense.

MARCH 23 YOU WILL BE SOBER AND VIGILANT AGAINST YOUR ADVERSARY MY CHILD, REMEMBER that you are not living in darkness, but I have made you aware of the evil schemes of the devil. Stay awake and watchful, for you should not be surprised by anything the enemy may try to do. Because you belong to the day, put on faith and love as a breastplate, and wear the helmet of salvation when you attempt to make war against Satan. With your mind alert and sober, set your hope on the grace that will be revealed to you when My Son returns to bring you home to heaven. Be holy in all you do. Live out your time here as a foreigner. Purify yourself with My holy Word. Resist the devil, and stand firm in your faith. 1 THESSALONIANS 5:4–11; 1 PETER 1:13–15; 5:8 Prayer Declaration I am sober and vigilant against my adversary, the devil. I am prepared to be victorious over his evil attacks, and I have armed myself with the breastplate of faith and love and the helmet of salvation. Because of the salvation of Christ, I am able to see the evil schemes and tactics of Satan before they are able to do harm to me or my family. He may cause me to suffer, but he will never be able to overcome me or to take me out of the protection of God, my Father.

Every day you face battles—that is the reality for all creatures in their struggle to survive. But the greatest battle of all is with yourself—your weaknesses, your emotions, your lack of resolution in seeing things through to the end. You must declare unceasing war on yourself. As a warrior in life, you welcome combat and conflict as ways to prove yourself, to better your skills, to gain courage, confidence, and experience. Instead of repressing your doubts and fears, you must face them down, do battle with them. You want more challenges, and you invite more war. You are forging the warrior’s spirit, and only constant practice will lead you there.

On Piers Morgan Tonight, Alan Dershowitz claimed, “[W]hat’s happening is the NRA is buying their data. They’re buying their facts. They’re hiring and commissioning so-called scholars to come up with the kinds of lies.”8 In another appearance he declared, “Your [John Lott’s] conclusions are paid for and financed by the National Rifle Association . . . This [Lott’s research] is junk science at its worst. Paid for and financed by the National Rifle Association . . . It [the NRA] only funds research that will lead to these conclusions.”9 But the NRA doesn’t fund empirical research for a simple reason—the media would ignore it.

Anda dapat mengubah perasaan Anda dengan mengubah cara Anda berkata-kata.

The people from stable families, who glance at addicts and shake their heads and say, “I would never do that to myself.” I feel an urge stop them and wave Gabor’s statistics in their face and say—Don’t you see? You wouldn’t do this to yourself because you don’t have to. You never had to learn to cope with more pain than you could bear. You might as well look at somebody who had their legs amputated in a car crash and declare: “Well, I would never have my legs cut off.” No. You haven’t been in a car crash. These addicts—they have been in car crashes of the soul.

Daily Law: As Xenophon said, your obstacles are not rivers or mountains or other people; your obstacle is yourself. The 33 Strategies of War, Strategy 1: Declare War on Your Enemies—The Polarity Strategy

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Proverbs 30:32 advises, “If you have been foolish in exalting yourself, or if you have devised evil, put your hand on your mouth.” (That right there is some good relationship advice. How much better would your life be if you got better at putting your hand on your mouth?) “For as the churning of milk produces butter, and wringing the nose produces blood, so the forcing of wrath produces strife” (v. 33).

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thessalonians 5:16–18, emphasis added).

your weaknesses, your emotions, your lack of resolution in seeing things through to the end. You must declare unceasing war on yourself. As a warrior in life, you welcome combat and conflict as ways to prove yourself, to better your skills, to gain courage, confidence, and experience. Instead of repressing your doubts and fears, you must face them down, do battle with them.

You can’t live right if you won’t think right.

We usually use amen at the end of our prayers, as though to say, “May what I have prayed come to pass.” But in light of the story of Jesus and the centurion, our goal should be to pray such gutsy prayers that God says amen to us.

Benih tidak pernah terlihat seperti panen yang dikandungnya

Ketika lidah berfungsi sebagaimana mestinya, itu laksana musim semi yang menyengarkan dan pohon buah yang memberi sari - sari makanan untuk pertumbuhan yang sehat.

Tidak ada yang bisa mewujudkan mimpinya tanpa ada orang lain yang mencoba mengubahnya menjadi mimpi buruk.

Tuhan memiliki rencana untuk menghasilkan yang baik dari apa yang Anda hadapi.

Pikiran berada di tempatnya dan di dalam dirinya dapat membuat surga sebagai neraka, neraka sebagai surga.

Anda dapat mengubah cara Anda merasakan dengan mengubah cara Anda berpikir.

If I ever have occasion to write out my last words in blood, I'll write this: "Everything I lived, said, or wrote — everything I loved — I considered communication. How could I live my life otherwise? Living this recluse's life, speaking in a desert of isolated readers, accepting the buoyant touch of writing! My accomplishment, its sum total, is to have taken risks and to have my sentences fall like the victims of war now lying in the fields." I want people to laugh, shrug their shoulders, and say, "He's having fun at our expense, he's alive." True, I live on, even now am full of life, though I declare, "If you find me reluctant to take risks in this book, throw it away; if on the other hand, when you read me you find nothing to risk yourself, then listen: Throughout your life up until your death, your reading will only corrupt you ... and you'll stink with corruption.

The war with yourself will always be at your doorstep, staring you in the face, taunting you, and daring you to become weak and scared. You have a rendezvous with death – the death of your former self.