Dr Phil Quotes

When you allow a person's words to upset you, you're giving away your power.

People have the right to think and say whatever they want to. But you have the right not to take it to heart, and not to react.

I hate Dr Phil. Dr Phil told me to express my feelings, so I'm expressing them.

The difference between winners and losers is that winners do things losers don't want to do.

I have a big hole in my heart," I said. "But it'll close over." I don't want to sound all Dr. Phil," she said. "But don't let the scab seal the pain in, okay?" That's good advice," I said. "I hope I can manage it.

Anger is nothing more than an outward expression of hurt, fear and frustration

Sometimes you just got to give yourself what you wish someone else would give you.

So you killed him with what now?" "I tried that Dr. Phil book at first"..."And I finished it off with the toilet seat. Just so you know, you left it up again. That drives me crazy.

Common sense needs to be more common.

We teach people how to treat us

The most you get is what you ask for.

You wouldn't worry so much about what other people thought about you if you knew how seldom they did.

There are some sick people in this world

Jesus was not revolutionary because he said we should love God and each other. Moses said that first. So did Buddha, Confucius, and countless other religious leaders we've never heard of. Madonna, Oprah, Dr. Phil, the Dali Lama, and probably a lot of Christian leaders will tell us that the point of religion is to get us to love each other. "God loves you" doesn't stir the world's opposition. However, start talking about God's absolute authority, holiness, ... Christ's substitutionary atonement, justification apart from works, the necessity of new birth, repentance, baptism, Communion, and the future judgment, and the mood in the room changes considerably.

This is no dress rehearsal.

Well I ain't Dr. Phil, but I'm smart," she said. "And your shoes are cuter than his," I said, trying to sound at least semi-normal. "Yeah they remind me of Dorothy's ruby slippers, only mine are wedges 'cause I'm more fashion conscious than she was.

Then, one night, her guest, Dr. Phil, said something that made me drop my fork: “The only difference between you and someone you envy is, you settled for less.” It

You can't change other people or (some) conditions; you can change only your reactions to them.

Families can also be divided into subgroups with different values, perspectives, and and communication styles, even if a subgroup consists of only one individual.

Remember,the most important relationship you can ever have is with yourself"-Dr.Phil

If emotional pain or problems have cropped up in your life, you must insist on getting closure. Closure means you don’t carry the problem or the pain. You address the issue, then you slam shut the book and put it away.

I stopped as I thought of poor Jack on my bathroom floor, just another victim of Dr. Phil.

We do marriage according to Dr. Phil, raise our children according to Dr. Spock, govern our sex lives according to Dr. Ruth, and only run to Dr. Jesus when things have gotten so bad we can’t find another doctor to help us.

You create the results in life that you believe you deserve. —DR. PHIL MCGRAW

This was Stiletto magazine, not Dr. Phil. Stiletto was sex and high heels, not companionship and freaking clogs.

Be your authentic self. Your authentic self is who you are when you have no fear of judgment, or before the world starts pushing you around and telling you who you’re supposed to be. Your fictional self is who you are when you have a social mask on to please everyone else. Give yourself permission to be your authentic self. —Dr. Phil McGraw

Nah. Hero, for sure. Think about it. In his first adventure, he took the form of a snake to free two prisoners being held naked in a Third World jungle prison by an all-powerful megalomaniac. At the same time, he broadened their diet and introduced them to their own sexuality. Sounds kind of like a cross between Animal Man and Dr. Phil to me.

Forgiveness of those who have transgressed against you, or those you love, is not about them; it is about you. It is a gift to yourself.

You let your mind rule your reality instead of you ruling your mind." "Are you reading this stuff out of a Dr. Phil book?

I shut the door and turned, crossing my arms. “I am not in the mood to Dr. Phil you two. I can’t figure out my own shit.

The thing I've noticed about life-' Zoe pauses to drain the last of her coffee and lick the foam off her lips, 'is that it just keeps coming at you. And it can be a real bummer. What you need to remember, Tiff, is that you're not alone. You've got friends and family. That's how we get by. We talk and share and eat cake and giggle in the dark, even when we're scared - no, especially when we're scared.' Wow. Reggie would be impressed. She's as good as Dr Phil. And not bald.

You’re looking for a man who can fix you?” “No! I don’t expect a man to fix me! I’m not an idiot. I just want a man I can hide behind.” Chase’s eyebrows flew high. His mouth twitched up, and Jane felt her mouth twitch, too. “Jane, I’m no Dr. Phil, but I’m pretty sure you’re certifiably fucked-up.” “Shut up!” “It’s true. Man, if I wasn’t already in love with you, I’d be out of here.

[...] In a lot of ways, I guess Satan was the first superhero.” “Don’t you mean supervillain?” “Nah. Hero, for sure. Think about it. In his first adventure, he took the form of a snake to free two prisoners being held naked in a Third World jungle prison by an all-powerful megalomaniac. At the same time, he broadened their diet and introduced them to their own sexuality. Sounds kind of like a cross between Animal Man and Dr. Phil to me.

I defend the authority of women and explore its meaning for them rather than assume they need to be more accommodating or sensitive.

Smugglin' that by me? That's like tryin' to smuggle sunrise past a rooster.

Dr. Phil never talked about Smyrna and left the room if anyone did. He never mentioned his murdered sons and daughters. Maybe this was the reason for his survival.

I’ve noticed that you are retarded, Dr. Phil.

A love-based psychology views social prejudice as impacting people's well-being, and the promotion of social justice as an important psychological intervention.

Thank you, Dr. Phil, for that fine psychological assessment," I snapped and motioned my chin to Disco. "Why don't you and Oprah here go take a long walk off a short plank and do the world a favor?

When you get emotional, slow your thoughts down, and listen attentively (write it down). That way, you'll be able to hear what you are thinking. You do this becoming very still and very quiet, and recording your thoughts. These high-speed thoughts and internal reactions always precede your feelings and emotions. Trust me, you did tell yourself something if you now feel anger, mad, anxious, frustrated, sad or depressed. From now on, whenever you get upset, listen ever so carefully, to what you are telling yourself.

The Visa bill has been almost manageable lately." "Don't you think that maybe buying things was just her way of coping with her loneliness? Like when you both had to hide so much of yourselves; that couldn't have been easy." "Hmm, that's quite insightful. Have you been watching Dr.Phil again?

I was lying here watching Dr. Phil, who, by the way, has some anger management issues. Doesn't his wife Robin look like she's been hypnotized? I feel like he goes home and beats her. The guy's an egomaniac and he's not doing a very [sic] job of covering it up by pretending to be interested in other people's problems.

You can't change what you don't acknowledge.

If we were all just alike, one of us wouldn't be necessary.

Let your life be a living example of what you want to see in your children.

For most judgment lapses, though, we suggest asking Dr. Phil’s question, “How’d that work for you?” and discussing ways to make better decisions next time.

We're not thirteen and this isn't a locker room." "Fine, fine. Just remember, I had to watch Dr. Phil with Mom for two months after I had knee surgery. I'm practically a psychiatrist.

Why the hell are we going to dance up on platforms like go-go dancers? We’ll look like strippers.” “Don’t take any money. It doesn’t count if you don’t take the money.” “Did Dr. Phil tell you that?” Anya snapped.

If you ever get started on the right path to change, there is one important precondition you have to meet. You must rid yourself of that gnawing and overpowering sense of urgency and panic that always seems to appear on the scene.

If you would like more help in deciding if the man in your life is in fact a user or a loser, I suggest reading Dr. Phil's newest book called “Life Code”. I think this book does a great service to its readers by helping them identify the signs of a person taking advantage of them. There are a lot of people surviving these

Granted, there are a lot of folks whose fires die out, I get that, but I also think there are a lot of couples out there who have been married thirty, forty, fifty years that know a whole lot more about the loving part of marriage than we give them credit for. We think we’re young, we’ve got the monopoly on passion.” I shook my head. “Not so sure. They might give Dr. Phil a run for his money.

key to health and happiness. Living in the twenty-first-century American culture seems to promote an unbalanced life: too much work and not enough play, excessive calories and not enough natural fresh foods, too much stress and not enough fun, and too much TV and too little exercise, too much rushing around—insufficient restful sleep, too much materialism and too little spirituality. As Dr. Phil would ask, “Is it work in’ for ya?” We can tell you that it doesn’t work for us. One of the best ways to avoid getting swept away in the tide of the often self-defeating modern lifestyle is to live by the mantra: “Good Things First.” Get in the habit of prioritizing the things that will make your life better in the long run: exercise, eating breakfast each morning, good food and healthy beverages, time to play, plenty

Matthews asked: “How intimate was your relationship with Dr. Miller?” “Intimate?” Phil still couldn’t grasp what they were asking. “My colleague is asking if you’d ever had sex with Dr. Miller before that evening.” Jones added curtly. “I’ve never…We’ve never…We’re friends. We’d never had sex before that evening, and we didn’t have sex that evening either.” “How do you explain your semen in her sheets then, Mr. Marshall?

In a lot of ways, I guess Satan was the first superhero.” “Don’t you mean supervillain?” “Nah. Hero, for sure. Think about it. In his first adventure, he took the form of a snake to free two prisoners being held naked in a Third World jungle prison by an all-powerful megalomaniac. At the same time, he broadened their diet and introduced them to their own sexuality. Sounds kind of like a cross between Animal Man and Dr. Phil to me.” She

We live in a culture that has monetized and commercialized “well-being” and “health” to such an extent that concern for our physical health has grown into an often unmanageable worry. We seek answers, diagnoses, and treatments from questionable sources, such as the omnipresent “Dr. Google.” We stress and fret about our health, which ironically, has a negative impact on the very part of ourselves that we are trying so diligently to protect.

We’re different, all right. But I enjoy him. He makes me laugh. And we have a lot in common.” “People go to the rescue shelter and choose dogs for similar reasons. Not seventy-year soul mates.” “Okay, Dr. Phil, what reason would you choose?” “Love.” She shook her head. “That kind only happens to the select few. The rest of us better get what we can while we can. Otherwise…” “Otherwise what?” “Otherwise we end up waiting on a fairy tale that never comes true.

New Rule: Conservatives have to stop rolling their eyes every time they hear the word "France." Like just calling something French is the ultimate argument winner. As if to say, "What can you say about a country that was too stupid to get on board with our wonderfully conceived and brilliantly executed war in Iraq?" And yet an American politician could not survive if he uttered the simple, true statement: "France has a better health-care system than we do, and we should steal it." Because here, simply dismissing an idea as French passes for an argument. John Kerry? Couldn't vote for him--he looked French. Yeah, as a opposed to the other guy, who just looked stupid. Last week, France had an election, and people over there approach an election differently. They vote. Eighty-five percent turned out. You couldn't get eighty-five percent of Americans to get off the couch if there was an election between tits and bigger tits and they were giving out free samples. Maybe the high turnout has something to do with the fact that the French candidates are never asked where they stand on evolution, prayer in school, abortion, stem cell research, or gay marriage. And if the candidate knows about a character in a book other than Jesus, it's not a drawback. The electorate doesn't vote for the guy they want to have a croissant with. Nor do they care about private lives. In the current race, Madame Royal has four kids, but she never got married. And she's a socialist. In America, if a Democrat even thinks you're calling him "liberal," he grabs an orange vest and a rifle and heads into the woods to kill something. Royal's opponent is married, but they live apart and lead separate lives. And the people are okay with that, for the same reason they're okay with nude beaches: because they're not a nation of six-year-olds who scream and giggle if they see pee-pee parts. They have weird ideas about privacy. They think it should be private. In France, even mistresses have mistresses. To not have a lady on the side says to the voters, "I'm no good at multitasking." Like any country, France has its faults, like all that ridiculous accordion music--but their health care is the best in the industrialized world, as is their poverty rate. And they're completely independent of Mid-East oil. And they're the greenest country. And they're not fat. They have public intellectuals in France. We have Dr. Phil. They invented sex during the day, lingerie, and the tongue. Can't we admit we could learn something from them?

Me: It will get better, right? Eventually, it will get better. Scarlett: I’m sorry I’m not the type to lower our discourse to emoji use since you totally deserve a smiley face right now. Yes, it will get better. Me: Ha. It’s just. Whatever. Sorry to keep whining. Scarlett: That’s what I’m here for. BTW, that email you forwarded? My guess: TOTALLY A SECRET ADMIRER. Me: You’ve read too many books. I’m being set up. And stop YELLING AT ME. Scarlett: No way. I didn’t say he was a vampire. I said he was a secret admirer. Most def. Me: Wanna take bets? Scarlett: You should just know by now that I’m always right. It’s my one magic power. Me: What’s mine? Scarlett: TBD. Me: Thanks a lot. Scarlett: Kidding. You are strong. That’s your power, girl. Me: My arms are v. toned from stress-eating ALL the cookies. Hand to mouth. Repeat 323 times. Hard-core workout. Scarlett: Seriously, for a second, J? Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ask for help sometimes. Remember that. I’m here, ALWAYS, but you might want to take up that offer from someone local. Me: Whatever. Ugh. Thanks, Dr. Phil. I miss you! Scarlett: Miss you too! Go write back to SN. NOW. NOW. NOW. Now tell me the truth? Anyone at your school unusually pale?

Then angels were all around them, the old crew who'd formed at Sword & Cross and hundreds of other places before that. Arriane, Roland, Cam, and Annabelle. They'd saved Luce more times than she could every say. "This is hard." Luce folded herself into Roland's arms. "Oh, come on. You already saved the world." He laughed. "Now go save your relationship." "Don't listen to Dr. Phil!" Arriane squealed. "Don't ever leave us!" She was trying to laugh but it wasn't working. Rebellious tears streamed down her face. She didn't wipe them away; she just held on tight to Annabelle's hand. "Okay, fine, go!" "We'll be thinking of you," Annabelle said. "Always." "I'll be thinking of you too." Luce had to believe it was true. Otherwise, if she was really going to forget all this, she couldn't bear to leave them. But the angels smiled sadly, knowing she had to forget them. That left Cam, who was standing close to Daniel, their arms clapped around each other's shoulders. "You pulled it off, brother." "Course I did." Daniel played at being haughty, but it came off as love. "Thanks to you." Cam took Luce's hand. His eyes were bright green, the first color that had ever stood out to her in the grim, dreary world of Sword & Cross. He tilted his head and swallowed, considering his words carefully. He drew her close, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Her heart pounded as his lips bypassed hers and came to a stop, whispering in her ear: "Don't let him flip you off next time." "You know I won't." She laughed. "Ah, Daniel, a mere shadow of a true bad boy." He pressed his hand to his heart and raised an eyebrow at her. "Make sure he treats you well. You deserve the best of everything there is." For once, she didn't want to let go if his hand. "What will you do?" "When you're ruined, there's so much to choose from. Everything opens up." He looked past her into the distant desert clouds. "I'll play my role. I know it well. I know goodbye." He winked at Luce, nodded one final time at Daniel, then rolled back his shoulders, spread his tremendous golden wings, and vanished into the roiling sky. Everyone watched until Cam's wings were a fleck of far-off gold.

Peer into any corner of current American life, and you’ll find the positive-thinking outlook. From the mass-media ministries of evangelists such as Joel Osteen, Creflo Dollar, and T.D. Jakes to the millions-strong audiences of Oprah, Dr. Phil, and Mehmet Oz, from the motivational bestsellers and seminars of the self-help movement to myriad twelve-step programs and support groups, from the rise of positive psychology, mind-body therapies, and stress-reduction programs to the self-affirmative posters and pamphlets found on walls and racks in churches, human-resources offices, medical suites, and corporate corridors, this one idea—to think positively—is metaphysics morphed into mass belief. It is the ever-present, every-man-and-woman wisdom of our time. It forms the foundation of business motivation, self-help, and therapeutic spirituality, including within the world of evangelism. Its influence has remade American religion from being a salvational force to also being a healing one.

She had several books she'd been wanting to read, but instead she sprawled out on the couch surrounded by pillows and blankets, and spent the hours flipping channels between Judge Judy, The People's Court, Maury, and Jerry Springer, and rounded out her afternoon with Dr. Phil and Oprah. All in all, it was a complete waste of a day. At least until school got out. Jay showed up after school with a bouquet of flowers and an armful of DVDs, although Violet couldn't have card less about either...he was all she wanted. She couldn't help the electric thrill of excitement she felt when he came strolling in, grinning at her foolishly as if he hadn't seen her in weeks rather than hours. He scooped her up from the couch and dropped her onto his lap as he sat down where she had been just a moment before. He was careful to arrange her ankle on a neatly stacked pile of pillows beside him. He stubbornly refused to hide his affection for her, and if Violet hadn't known better she would have sworn that he was going out of his way to make her self-conscious in her own home. Fortunately her parents were giving them some space for the time being, and they were left by themselves most of the time. "Did you miss me?" he asked arrogantly as he gently brushed his lips over hers, not bothering to wait for an answer. She smiled while she kissed him back, loving the topsy-turvy feeling that her stomach always got when he was so close to her. She wound her arms around his neck, forgetting that she was in the middle of the family room and not hidden away in the privacy of her bedroom. He pulled away from her, suddenly serious. "You know, we didn't get much time alone yesterday. And I didn't get a chance to tell you..." Violet was mesmerized by the thick timbre of his deep voice. She barely heard his words but rather concentrated on the fluid masculinity of his tone. "I feel like I've waited too long to finally have you, and then yesterday...when..." He stopped, seemingly at a loss, and then he tried another approach. His hand stroked her cheek, igniting a response from deep within her. "I can't imagine living without you," he said, tenderly kissing her forehead, his warm breath fanning her brow. He paused thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "I love you, Violet. More than I ever could have imagined. And I don't want to lose you...I can't lose you." It was her turn to look arrogant as she glanced up at him. "I know," she stated smugly, shrugging her shoulder. He shoved her playfully but held on to her tightly so that she never really went anywhere. "What do you mean, 'I know'? What kind of response is that?" His righteous indignation bordered on comical. He pulled her down into his arms so that his face was directly above hers. "Say it!" he commanded. She shook her head, pretending not to understand him. "What? What do you want me to say?" But then she giggled and ruined her baffled façade. He teased her with his mouth, leaning down to kiss her and then pulling away before his lips ever reached hers. He nuzzled her neck tantalizingly, only to stop once she responded. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer, frustrated by his mocking ambush of her senses. "Say it," he whispered, his breath warm against her neck. She groaned, wanting him to put her out of her misery. "I love you too," she rasped as she clung to him. "I love you so much..." His mouth moved to cover hers in an exhausting kiss that left them broth breathless and craving more than they could have. Violet collapsed into his arms, gathering her wits and hoping that no one walked in on them anytime soon.

When I met Dr. Phil Zimbardo, the former president of the American Psychological Association, for lunch, I knew him primarily as the mastermind behind the famous Stanford prison experiment.7 In the summer of 1971, Zimbardo took healthy Stanford students, assigned them roles as either “guards” or “inmates,” and locked them in a makeshift “prison” in the basement of Stanford University. In just days, the “prisoners” began to demonstrate symptoms of depression and extreme stress, while the “guards” began to act cruel and sadistic (the experiment was ended early, for obvious reasons). The point is that simply being treated like prisoners and guards had, over the course of just a few days, created a momentum that caused the subjects to act like prisoners and guards. The Stanford prison experiment is legendary, and much has been written about its many implications. But what I wondered was this: If simply being treated in a certain way conditioned these Stanford students to gradually adopt these negative behaviors, could the same kind of conditioning work for more positive behavior too? Indeed, today Zimbardo is attempting a grand social experiment along those lines called the “Heroic Imagination Project.”8 The logic is to increase the odds of people operating with courage by teaching them the principles of heroism. By encouraging and rewarding heroic acts, Zimbardo believes, we can consciously and deliberately create a system where heroic acts eventually become natural and effortless. We have a choice. We can use our energies to set up a system that makes execution of goodness easy, or we can resign ourselves to a system that actually makes it harder to do what is good. Ward’s Positive Tickets system did the former, and it worked. We can apply the same principle to the choices we face when designing systems in our own lives.

Focusing more on the ritual of her smoking, I urged, 'Explain to me more about taking in the smoke deeply, holding it until you can really feel it in your chest, and then letting out what is in you.' Then she began to sob, saying, 'Having someone really take me in, really listen to me, really feel me and then speak from their heart is the essence of life. I want that; I want to give that. It's what makes life worth living.' From her simple announcement 'It's what makes life worth living,' it was clear to see that the threat of illness or a shortened life could not compete with the power of the incentive that fueled her desire: she wanted to share with others deeply, from the heart. Smoking a cigarette the way she did gave her an experience of being alive, of feeling the nature of her own life force

And now Dr. Phil’s latest book, Here’s Some More Advice I Pulled Out of My Ass. —David Letterman

Always respond to every impulse to pray. The impulse to pray may come when you are reading or when you are battling with a text. I would make an absolute law of this – always obey such an impulse. Where does it come from? It is the work of the Holy Spirit (Phil 2:12-13). This often leads to some of the most remarkable experiences in the life of the minister. So never resist, never postpone it, never push it aside because you are busy. Give yourself to it, yield to it; and you will find not only that you have not been wasting time with respect to the matter with which you are dealing but that actually it has helped you greatly in that respect. You will experience an ease and a facility in understanding what you were reading, in thinking, in ordering matter for a sermon, in writing, in everything which is quite astonishing. Such a call to prayer must never be regarded as a distraction; always respond to it immediately, and thank God if it happens to you frequently." (Preaching & Preachers, 170-171)

The producer approached and asked if I wanted to speak with Dr. Phil. “You mean as a therapist or as an interview subject for my show?” I asked.

The publisher has, helpfully, categorized this book under “self-improvement” in the time-honored American “self-help” tradition. These books, as Dr. Phil knows best, endlessly sell because they never work . . . but maybe the sequel will. There is, I surmise, a kind of insidious intimacy in these books, as on Freud’s couch, between author and reader, an unspoken collusion in knowing much will be said but nothing will be done.

Seeking out and giving support are so vital to human beings that social psychologists Mario Mikulincer and Phil Shaver observe that, rather than being called Homo sapiens, or “one who knows,” we should be named Homo auxiliator vel accipio auxilium, or “one who helps or receives help.” To be even more accurate, I say we should be called Homo vinculum—“one who bonds.

Likewise, she will know that if I start watching reality TV, quoting Dr. Phil, riding roller coasters, and seem to have forsaken bacon in favor of anything soy—it’s time to Get the Pillow. That’s what—well, I can’t tell you who but she’s a nurse—says they all say when they’ve got a particularly cantankerous patient on their wing.

NITA BROADWELL SAT IN THE CAR-POOL LINE READING CAPTIVE Bride of the Choctaw. The love scenes were graphic, and made her feel restless and slightly queasy. She had started out reading Harlequin Romances but had quickly progressed to the harder stuff, and now she read about masters and slave girls, Indian braves and captive white women. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t stop. She had seen women like herself on afternoon talk shows, sad women who were addicted to alcohol, or food, or the Home Shopping Network. She wasn’t sure what a woman addicted to soft porn romance novels would be called, but she was pretty sure there was a name for it. She was pretty sure Oprah or Dr. Phil would know what it was called.

There comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because conscience tells him it is right. Those are Dr. King’s words, not mine, but they’re fitting for the occasion.

This particular day in May, Fiona has slipped Thatch a note in the hallway between history and music class, a scrap of paper that says, simply, "cheesecake." Last week, she passed him notes that said "quiche" and "meatballs," and the week before it was "bread pudding" and "veal parmigiana." Most of the time the word is enticing enough to get him over right after school- for example, the veal parmigiana. Thatcher and Jimmy and Phil sat at Fiona's kitchen table throwing apples from the fruit bowl at one another and teasing the Kemps' Yorkshire terrier, Sharky, while Fiona, in her mother's frilly, flowered, and very queer-looking apron, dredged the veal cutlets in flour, dipped them in egg, dressed them with breadcrumbs, and then sautéed them in hot oil in her mother's electric frying pan. The boys really liked the frying part- there was something cool about meat in hot, splattering oil. But they lost interest during the sauce and cheese steps, and by the time Fiona slid the baking pan into the oven, Jimmy and Phil were ready to go home. Not Thatcher- he stayed until Fiona pulled the cheesy, bubbling dish from the oven and ate with Fiona and Dr. and Mrs. Kemp. His father worked late and his brothers were scattered throughout the neighborhood (his two older brothers could drive and many times they ate at the Burger King on Grape Road). Thatcher liked it when Fiona cooked; he liked it more than he would ever admit.

But what mattered most in a relationship was a lot simpler than these things. It came down to a kind of chemistry that defied language, a kind of connection that was beyond the realm of ambition or values or physicality or any of the typical power struggles couples got tangled up in. Something that just happened organically. Something you couldn’t manufacture or will into being, no matter how many Dr. Phil books you read. Something animal and spiritual at the same time.

Listen to the world and you'd think there are many ways to God', he says. 'But Jesus himself said, "I am the way, and no man comes to the Father but by me". So it doesn't matter what Oprah or Dr. Phil or Deepak Chopra says. They don't have the keys to Heaven. Only Jesus holds the keys to life and death, and if he says he's the way, then he is.

the only difference between you and someone you envy is you settled for less

Sometimes you win and sometimes you learn.

She put her hand on her stomach, and as she measured the fat padding that was now there, she felt so damned dumb for sitting on her ass eating ice cream with Layla. She wasn’t any closer to her needing—whenever, if ever, that came, it was clearly going to be on its own schedule. All she’d done was make her pants tight and drive a wedge between herself and her husband. In the words of Dr. Phil, How’s that working for ya? Great, Phil. Just awesome. -Beth's thoughts

He was the one doing the Dr. Phil bullshit— Okaaaaaaaaaay,

Can’t you tell I’m broken?” she demanded. “I can’t stand anyone touching me!” “You handled me touching you until I pushed you too far.” “Freaking out because someone you’re enjoying kissing tries to get closer to you is not normal.” “It wasn’t normal that I was turned into a vampire because a female vamp became obsessed with my best friend,” David replied. “When Liam didn’t follow after her, she decided to turn his friends in the hopes she would get him to fall in line with her. That’s about as far from normal as it gets. I didn’t have a clue about the paranormal being real when my transformation occurred. Vampires were for horror movies, not reality. Life’s not normal. Shit happens. We all work through it.” “Is that so, Dr. Phil?” The frustrating man smiled at her. “That’s so,” David replied.

Merghani even speculated to me, while we were talking, that the development of calcific atherosclerosis in veteran athletes may even be a protective process! That’s an astonishing thought – the very thing that has fuelled the hysterical media may be an adapted mechanism that’s protecting veteran sports people from damage. Add this to the list of unknowns, but I think it’s highly significant that a cardiologist like Dr Merghani would even float this out for debate. It’s a breathtaking thought.

Dr Baker’s data can’t lie, it’s just data. His amateur clients (that’s you and me) are closer to fatigue and nearer to being overtrained than the professionals who ride for a living and race nine months of the year all around the world!

Many amateurs perpetually train and ride in what Dr Baker calls a ‘whirlwind of doom’ where an overestimation and obsession with an FTP (an abstract number in itself) means that we tend to set our training levels too high and, as a consequence, are training the wrong systems and incrementally embedding fatigue that we then struggle to shake off if we’re older, because our hormonal responses are less responsive and dynamic – is this ringing any bells? Going

According to Dr. Phil, there is not a magic number for the quantity of sex for a married couple that is considered “normal”, as long as the couple talks about sex and both feel satisfied. But per a Newsweek article, back from 2003, if couples are having sex no more than 10 times a year, then that constitutes a sexless marriage.

Ma and Aunt Rose are in the kitchen. Johnny and Papa are watching TV.” “Hockey?” She hung her coat on the hall tree. “No, synchronized swimming. Of course, hockey. They’re watching the pregame stuff; you know, the male version of Oprah.” They walked through the empty living room and into the dining room. Rosalie gave herself a mental head slap. She should have asked Nick to tape the game for her. “Yeah, I like the part where Dr. Phil discusses their feelings about the fight in last night’s game. Stay tuned for a very special Sports Talk—The Cause of Unnecessary Roughness.

networking training seminar given by Dr. Steve Callender (Callender & Associates - Business Outcomes by Design) I took away three solid points that I had not thought about in the past. These should be useful to me going forward.

Cash me outside, howbow dah

Today’s Children, The Woman in White, and The Guiding Light crossed over and interchanged in respective storylines.) June 2, 1947–June 29, 1956, CBS. 15m weekdays at 1:45. Procter & Gamble’s Duz Detergent. CAST: 1937 to mid-1940s: Arthur Peterson as the Rev. John Ruthledge of Five Points, the serial’s first protagonist. Mercedes McCambridge as Mary Ruthledge, his daughter; Sarajane Wells later as Mary. Ed Prentiss as Ned Holden, who was abandoned by his mother as a child and taken in by the Ruthledges; Ned LeFevre and John Hodiak also as Ned. Ruth Bailey as Rose Kransky; Charlotte Manson also as Rose. Mignon Schrieber as Mrs. Kransky. Seymour Young as Jacob Kransky, Rose’s brother. Sam Wanamaker as Ellis Smith, the enigmatic “Nobody from Nowhere”; Phil Dakin and Raymond Edward Johnson also as Ellis. Henrietta Tedro as Ellen, the housekeeper. Margaret Fuller and Muriel Bremner as Fredrika Lang. Gladys Heen as Torchy Reynolds. Bill Bouchey as Charles Cunningham. Lesley Woods and Carolyn McKay as Celeste, his wife. Laurette Fillbrandt as Nancy Stewart. Frank Behrens as the Rev. Tom Bannion, Ruthledge’s assistant. The Greenman family, early characters: Eloise Kummer as Norma; Reese Taylor and Ken Griffin as Ed; Norma Jean Ross as Ronnie, their daughter. Transition from clergy to medical background, mid-1940s: John Barclay as Dr. Richard Gaylord. Jane Webb as Peggy Gaylord. Hugh Studebaker as Dr. Charles Matthews. Willard Waterman as Roger Barton (alias Ray Brandon). Betty Lou Gerson as Charlotte Wilson. Ned LeFevre as Ned Holden. Tom Holland as Eddie Bingham. Mary Lansing as Julie Collins. 1950s: Jone Allison as Meta Bauer. Lyle Sudrow as Bill Bauer. Charita Bauer as Bert, Bill’s wife, a role she would carry into television and play for three decades. Laurette Fillbrandt as Trudy Bauer. Glenn Walken as little Michael. Theo Goetz as Papa Bauer. James Lipton as Dr. Dick Grant. Lynn Rogers as Marie Wallace, the artist.

I told my inner-Dr. Phil to slow his fucking role.

In America, few people are happy, but everyone talks about happiness constantly. In Bhutan, most people are happy, but no one talks about it. This is a land devoid of introspection, bereft of self-help books, and woefully lacking in existential angst. There is no Bhutanese Dr. Phil. There is, in fact, only one psychiatrist in the entire country. He is not named Phil and, I am sad to report, does not even have his own television show.

No matter how badly another person may behave, your acting out, because of it, will always overshadow their bad behavior, then you become the villain. Dr. Phil

I would rather have a set of questions that we haven't found the answers for, yet, than having a whole set of answers that I'm not even permitted to challenge, questions, dig in on.

Jesus Christ. Joey had used her mother’s name to dance here? Dr. Phil would have a field day with that one.