Epitome Of Strength Quotes

All of my grandparents epitomized the best qualities and characteristics of being human, among them resiliency. They faced the worst that life threw at them with the best of what they were. Just as important, they demonstrated one significant reality about resiliency: it is a quiet, persistent process. While hardship, difficulties, and disaster might befall us in a blinding moment, resiliency responds subtly. It does not bring results in one fell swoop, but moment by moment and one step at a time.

… Looking at her, I think I know better what romantic love is.” … she asked, “What is it?” “It is parental love,” he answered thoughtfully. “Wanting to protect and keep the other person safe. As well as the love of friendship - esteeming the other person, even desiring each other’s company beyond all others. And it is lust,” he said, meeting her eyes, and was rewarded with seeing them darken, her breath becoming slightly unsteady, one little word jerking her out of her clinical assessment. He smiled, a predatory, seductive grin. “The physical needing of the other person, the quickened pulse, the sweaty heat.” His hand, which still rested on hers, began slowly moving, his fingers dancing over her skin. “Combining them makes the result greater than its individual parts. Because it produces something else. It creates … a steadiness. A strength. I can’t explain it well - being only an outside observer - but I only know that out of my friends' relationships, my sister‘s marriage is the epitome of grace.

Wallace looked stunned—the epitome of male panic over a woman’s tears

Paul’s decision not to avert his eyes from death epitomizes a fortitude we don’t celebrate enough in our death-avoidant culture. His strength was defined by ambition and effort, but also by softness, the opposite of bitterness. He spent much of his life wrestling with the question of how to live a meaningful life, and his book explores that essential territory. “Always the seer is a sayer,” Emerson wrote. “Somehow his dream is told; somehow he publishes it with solemn joy.” Writing this book was a chance for this courageous seer to be a sayer, to teach us to face death with integrity.

Paul's decision not to avert his eyes from death, epitomizes a fortitude we don't celebrate enough in our death avoidant culture. His strength was defined by ambition and effort. But also by softness. The opposite of bitterness.

Gotta write a letter to you, If you get a chance, do read it. Don't know how long I can endure, But if you get a chance, do read it. They say, time heals all wounds, But there is no treatment to my condition. If you get a chance, come and sit by me, With you by my side even death is salvation. The world hails one a pillar, an epitome of strength, But inside, one battles with apocalypse everyday. Sipping poison like delicate wine, time after time, A loveless fakir gets used to be used and thrown away. Read me or rip me, it is up to you. So long as the heart beats, I'm waiting for you.

A true leader always leads by example, by demonstrating to others how the work is done. Sri Krishna, being a great spiritual leader of his time, also chose to perform certain worldly activities. Why? He explains, “If ever I cease to be vigilantly engaged in action, then people would follow my footsteps in every way and no one would perform action.”28 The life of Krishna is marked by ordinariness. He did the earthly job of cow herding, and also indulged in romancing, dancing and playing the flute. He demonstrated a life for others to emulate. He led a balanced life with his strengths as well as frailties. His life was, therefore, not extraordinary. He was not an epitome of perfection. He showed others how to lead a normal, worldly life by himself performing all the actions and yet drifting away from it by reaching for higher ideals.

To love is also good, for love is difficult. For one human being to love another is perhaps the most difficult task of all, the epitome, the ultimate test. It is that striving for which all other striving is merely preparation. For that reason young people — who are beginners in everything — cannot yet love; they do not know how to love. They must learn it. With their whole being, with all strengths enveloping their lonely, disquieted heart, they must learn to love — even while their heartbeat is quickening.

Overcoming deficits is an essential part of the fabric of our culture. Our books, movies, and folklore are filled with stories of the underdog who beats one-in-a-million odds. And this leads us to celebrate those who triumph over their lack of natural ability even more than we recognize those who capitalize on their innate talents. As a result, millions of people see these heroes as being the epitome of the American Dream and set their sights on conquering major challenges. Unfortunately, this is taking the path of most resistance.

Patience's mental imprecations reached new heights. Mrs. Chadwick had not lied- Vane Cynster was the very epitome of an elegant gentleman. His hair, burnished chestnut several shades darker than her own, glowed softly in the candlelight, wave upon elegant wave sitting perfectly about his head. Even across the room, the strength of his features registered; clear-cut, hard-edged, forehead, nose, jaw, and cheeks appeared sculpted out of rock. Only his lips, long and thin with just a hint of humor to relieve their austerity, and the innate intelligence and, yes, wickedness, that lit his grey eyes, gave any hint of mere mortal personality- all else, including, Patience grudgingly acknowledged, his long, lean body, belonged to a god.

For all his faults, Leifs was a unique composer, driven by the ambition to create an Icelandic sound that might intrigue and inspire the world by bringing to life the country’s literature, landscape, and vernacular songs. His friend, the writer and diplomat Kristján Albertsson, who was unusually cognizant of the composer’s strengths and weaknesses, wrote that Leifs’s purpose had been to give Iceland “a voice among the musics of the world, to let the cool, strong gale of the Icelandic weather rush into the world’s music—and to remind ourselves who we are, what we are, can be or become if we choose to be ourselves, true to our origins and character—and not simply epigones in the world of art.” In his best works, Leifs achieved his goal. They are born of a deep personal conviction and epitomize the unique soundscape of his country: roaring ocean, erupting mountains, cracking icebergs, trembling earth.

For all his faults, Leifs was a unique composer, driven by the ambition to create an Icelandic sound that might intrigue and inspire the world by bringing to life the country’s literature, landscape, and vernacular songs. His friend, the writer and diplomat Kristján Albertsson, who was unusually cognizant of the composer’s strengths and weaknesses, wrote that Leifs’s purpose had been to give Iceland “a voice among the musics of the world, to let the cool, strong gale of the Icelandic weather rush into the world’s music—and to remind ourselves who we are, what we are, can be or become if we choose to be ourselves, true to our origins and character—and not simply epigones in the world of art.” In his best works, Leifs achieved his goal. They are born of a deep personal conviction and epitomize the unique soundscape of his country: roaring ocean, erupting mountains, cracking icebergs, trembling earth.

In the logic of ableism, anyone who can handle such an (allegedly) horrible life must be strong; a lesser man would have given up in despair years ago. Indeed, Reeve's refusal to “give up” is precisely why the FBL selected Reeve for their model of strength; in the “billboard backstories” section of their website, they praise Reeve for trying to “beat paralysis and the spinal cord injuries” rather than “giv[ing] up.” Asserting that Goldberg is successful because of her hard work suggests that other people with dyslexia and learning disabilities who have not met with similar success have simply failed to engage in hard work; unlike Whoopi Goldberg, they are apparently unwilling to devote themselves to success. Similarly, by positioning Weihenmayer's ascent of Everest as a matter of vision, the FBL implies that most blind people, who have not ascended Everest or accomplished equivalently astounding feats, are lacking not only eyesight but vision. The disabled people populating these billboards epitomize the paradoxical figure of the supercrip: supercrips are those disabled figures favored in the media, products of either extremely low expectations (disability by definition means incompetence, so anything a disabled person does, no matter how mundane or banal, merits exaggerated praise) or extremely high expectations (disabled people must accomplish incredibly difficult, and therefore inspiring, tasks to be worthy of nondisabled attention).

Medusa is a good example of how Goddess in her dark aspect became demonized in the patriarchal context. Gimbutas points out that the earliest Greek gorgons were not terrifying symbols, but were portrayed with symbols of regeneration – bee wings and snakes as antennae102. Medusa with her serpent hair had been a widely recognized symbol of Divine Female Wisdom – the serpent representing Knowledge of Change, the very essence of Being, never-ending renewal, and thus immortality. Medusa was a face of Ultimate Mystery, of the One – She was “All that has been, that is, and that will be103.” In our cultural mythology Perseus was celebrated as hero for being able to defeat her and cut off her head with its so called deadly gaze. It was said that her gaze was so fearsome it turned mortals to stone. There is no doubt that it is fearsome to look into the eye of the Divine; but patriarchal gods have carried the same characteristic, Yahweh for example, without threat of the same retribution. In the patriarchal context, is it really the gaze of the Female that is deadly? It is women who are the chronically gazed upon, whether as sex object or on a pedestal; perhaps this epitomizes Medusa’s/Goddess’ imprisonment – how She is “kept an eye on”. The beheading of Medusa – one who is icon of Wisdom, may be understood as a story of dis-memberment of the Female Metaphor/Goddess104. The hera’s journey today is to go against the patriarchal injunction and look Medusa straight on, as philosopher Helene Cixous suggests105. She is at first fearsome, but the Dark Goddess’ fierceness nurtures a strength in a woman, gives her back the “steel in her stomach” that she needs to live her life. This Old Wisdom tradition is about recognizing the Power within, and daring to take the journey into that Self-knowledge.

There is a foundational need inherent in every human person to love someone and to be loved. The self is completed and integrated and wholesome only when there is rapport with others. Mental hospitals are full of people who cannot communicate with others. They distrust, dislike, hate, and finally withdraw from the world of other persons. The condition is called schizophrenia. The need for fellowship is much deeper than sentiment; it is basic to mental health and ultimately to truly human existence. It is not the totally independent person who is the epitome of strength, but precisely the person who is capable of responsible mutual interrelatedness with others while at the same time maintaining a sharp and growing self-identity.

The British government advertises for tenders each year, the requirements for black writing ink in 1889 reads: "To be made of Best Galls, Sulphate of Iron, and Gum. The Sulphate of Iron not to exceed in quantity one-third of the weight of the Galls used, and the specific gravity of the matured Ink not to exceed 1045 degrees (distilled water being 1000 degrees)." That of Black Copying Ink "To be made of the above materials, but of a strength one fourth greater than the Writing Ink, and with the addition of Sugar or Glycerine. The specific gravity of the matured Ink not. to exceed 1085 degrees." And that of Blue-Black Writing Ink "To be made of finest Galls, Sulphate of Iron, Gum, Indigo, and Sulphuric Acid. The specific gravity of the Ink when matured not to exceed 1035 degrees.

Many of my female analysands painfully confess that they no longer have an idea of what it is to be feminine. Over twenty-five years ago, the Jungian analyst June Singer, in an article titled “The Sadness of the Successful Woman,” said that she believed that such women are suffering from a particular form of depression: They are mourning for their lost femininity. She also considered this an archetypal problem because it affects all of us—women, men, and children. Singer points out that our patriarchal society places its highest value on the archetype of personal identity. The emphasis on fame in our culture epitomizes this idea. From preschool, to sports, to jobs, to careers, to where and how we live, identity in our culture is based on personal achievements. The terror that goes hand-in-hand with our idolatry of identity grips us when we do not achieve what we want to, plan to, or should accomplish. We must then face the shame of failure, of not being good enough, or of not being who we thought we were. No wonder losing a job, getting divorced, becoming seriously ill, or—even on a smaller scale—having our kid’s team lose a game can fill us (or our kids) with shame. Shame haunts the identity-oriented person.

Unlike his contemporaries Handel and Telemann, whose ambition was directed toward creating the epitome of a particular style, Bach deconstructed styles and put them back together again combined with his strengths in invention, orchestration, and counterpoint.

I have come to the conclusion that there are three aspects of life that can give our existence the joy, purpose and meaning that we may seek. 1) To find a work that gives us such pleasure that it does not feel like work 2) To make a significant positive contribution to civilization 3) To find true romantic love in ones life Finding ones purpose in life, making a contribution to mankind or finding true romantic love, would be the epitome of true happiness I. Alan Appt “The Strength in Knowing

Even annoyed, as she was now, she vibrated the kind of barely restrained energy that made every part of him spark to life. Some parts more enthusiastically than others. He shifted his weight and sidestepped slightly in an effort to keep that reality as unnoticeable as possible. He’d become a master of that particular skill during the last few months she’d been on the station. He needn’t have worried. She didn’t so much as glance at him. Her irritation was focused solely on her big brother. “Did you really just perp walk Cooper down the harbor?” Logan’s eyebrows lifted along with his hands, which he held up at his sides, palms out. “Hold up, I didn’t--” “Save it,” Kerry said. She turned to Cooper. “I apologize. He forgets I’m an adult woman who can handle her own affairs.” She glared at her brother during that last part. “She’s right, you know.” This came from a little spitfire brunette who, given Kerry’s descriptions of her family, must be the middle McCrae sister, Fiona. Fists planted on her hips, managing to somehow look down her cute little nose at her much taller and much bigger brother, she added, “We’re trying to plan my wedding and grill her about Mr. Hot and Aussie here. I’d think by now you’d know that we’ve got this covered.” She made a brief gesture to the other women standing alongside her. “If we thought he was a danger to society, we would have called.” Cooper watched the ricocheting dialogue like a spectator at a cricket match, unable to squelch a grin. It was like watching his own sister, all grown up and in triplicate. As Kerry and Fiona closed in on a somehow now hapless-looking lumberjack of a police chief, Cooper stepped forward and stuck out his hand toward the taller, willowy young woman who stood just behind Fiona. Where Kerry was Amazonian and Fiona a little firebrand, their oldest sister was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. “Hannah Blue, I presume? I’m Cooper Jax. Sorry for the disruption of your sister’s wedding plans. I didn’t know.” This had Fiona turning his way. “And how could you, given Kerry couldn’t be bothered to so much as send you a postcard?” “Hey,” Kerry said, looking at her sister now. “Whose side are you on?” Fiona looked back at her. “The side that keeps this guy here and you looking all pent up and googly-eyed.” “Googly-eyed?” Kerry shot back. Cooper, grinning unrepentantly now, turned his attention back to Hannah and continued, as if her sisters weren’t getting all up in each other’s personal space. “I understand congratulations are in order on your recent nuptials as well.” Hannah gave him a swift, all-encompassing once-over as only a former defense attorney could. Then, in the face of his unrelenting goodwill, she took his hand, her mouth curving up in the barest hint of a smile as she gave it a firm, quick shake. “You’re a charmer, Mr. Jax, I’ll give you that.” “Go with your strength,” he replied.

He’d seen so much pain over the past few years that in some ways he’d become immune to thinking about what others felt. But when it came to his mother—his indomitable, invincible mother—he, too, hated the thought. She was the epitome of strength to him,

Vala Afshar, chief marketing officer of Extreme Networks, is an interesting case study.3 Trained as an electrical engineer, Afshar joined Extreme Networks in 1996 as a software developer/quality service engineer, eventually transitioning to run the services business, becoming the chief customer support officer. In this role, Afshar became very active on Salesforce's Chatter, a private social network for business, and by 2011 had built a large internal following. As the chief information officer took note of Afshar's intracompany influence, he signed Afshar up for Twitter and gave him the mandate to interact with networks outside of the company. As Afshar prototyped his ideas in real time, he gained an external following. A publisher approached him about writing a book; his presentations on Slide-Share gained more than one million views; and he was promoted to chief marketing officer. Vala Afshar has become a thought leader, epitomizing a new breed of chief marketing officer, both highly social and highly technical—and Extreme Networks has unusually high name recognition for a $500 million company. Afshar's ability to shrink the space, getting immediate and actionable feedback, was pivotal in expanding his space into a high-profile public role. Fast feedback is also useful when it comes to identifying your distinctive strengths. Karen May, VP for people development at Google, invented a method she calls "speedback." It works like this: "partway through a training session she will tell everyone to pair off and sit knee to knee, and give them three minutes to answer one simple question: 'What advice would you give me based on the experience you've had with me here?' Participants say that it's some of the best feedback they've ever gotten."4 When we are willing to impose constraints—in this particular, instance, time—we have a better chance of identifying what is working and what needs to be changed.

My Everest story would be incomplete if I didn’t give final credit to the Sherpas who had risked their lives alongside us every day. Pasang and Ang-Sering still climb together as best friends, under the direction of their Sirdar boss--Kami. The Khumba Icefall specialist, Nima, still carries out his brave task in the jumbled ice maze at the foot of the mountain: repairing and fixing the route through. Babu Chiri, who so bravely helped Mick when he ran out of oxygen under the South Summit, was tragically killed in a crevasse in the Western Cwm several years later. He was a Sherpa of many years’ Everest experience, and was truly one of the mountain’s greats. It was a huge loss to the mountaineering fraternity. But if you play the odds long enough you will eventually lose. That is the harsh reality of high-altitude mountaineering. You can’t keep on top of the world forever. Geoffrey returned to the army, and Neil to his business. His toes never regained their feeling, but he avoided having them amputated. But as they say, Everest always charges some sort of a price, and in his own words--he got lucky. As for Mick, he describes his time on Everest well: “In the three months I was away, I was both happier than ever before, and more scared than I ever hope to be again.” Ha. That’s also high-altitude mountaineering for you. Thengba, my friend, with whom I spent so much time alone at camp two, was finally given a hearing aid by Henry. Now, for the first time, he can hear properly. Despite our different worlds, we shared a common bond with these wonderful Sherpa men--a friendship that was forged by an extraordinary mountain. Once, when the climber Julius Kugy was asked what sort of person a mountaineer should be, he replied: “Truthful, distinguished, and modest.” All these Sherpas epitomize this. I made the top with them, and because of their help, I owe them more than I can say. The great Everest writer Walt Unsworth, in his book Everest: The Mountaineering History, gives a vivid description of the characters of the men and women who pit their all on the mountain. I think it is bang on the money: But there are men for whom the unattainable has a special attraction. Usually they are not experts: their ambitions and fantasies are strong enough to brush aside the doubts which more cautious men might have. Determination and faith are their strongest weapons. At best such men are regarded as eccentric; at worst, mad… Three things they all had in common: faith in themselves, great determination, and endurance. If I had to sum up what happened on that journey for me, from the hospital bed to the summit of the world, I tend to think of it as a stumbling journey. Of losing my confidence and my strength--then refinding it. Of seeing my hope and my faith slip away--and then having them rekindled. Ultimately, if I had to pass on one message to my children it would be this: Fortune favors the brave. Most of the time.

She smiled a lot, laughed easily and listened intently when others spoke. She had been battling the system her whole life, but it had not made her bitter. To me she was the epitome of the modern Iranian woman – a generous heart and an inner core of indefatigable strength.

I had to find love & inner peace to embrace my story

It's only words and words are all I've. I'm a person who enjoys quiet moments, of reflection and Introspection. And over the years I've come to grasp a fundamental truth about myself: "Words are all I have." This realization runs deep, emphasizing the significance of my composing journey. It's an acknowledgment that the very make-up of my being, from couching joy to helming sorrow, relies on my art of words. It's only words, but to me, they hold the essence of my dreams. Each word I speak or write is a reflection of who I am and what I feel. They're not just letters strung together; they're pieces of my soul; shared.. It's only words, but they're my gateway to the world of my innermost thoughts and feelings. With each word expressed, I reveal a piece of my heart, offering glimpses into my fear and mettle. Through the art of language, I try to epitomize, I reveal the sanctuary of my soul, trusting, with the raw beauty of the vulnerabilities. In this self-awareness, I find the strength that accompany the words I choose to wield. They often become the bridge between my inner world and the external reality, giving meaning to my experiences and connecting me with others on a profound level. It's only words. This very phrase encapsulates the essence of my personal journey—a recognition of the weight and wonder held within the words that accompany me through every epoch of my life. Wishes are a strong current guiding us through the river of dreams, gently nudging us towards the shores of our deepest desires. I wish my words dance like poetry and sing like music, leaving a trail of wonder and enchantment in their wake.

Story of a black woman’s life…faking like everything was okay, when really, they were just epitomes of struggle disguised as strength…all burdened by something that a man had put on her heart.

The Holy Ideas of the Enneagram epitomize the lucidity of a mind integrated with one’s heart and body, evidenced in the consolidation of mindfulness and self-realization. The traditional Holy Ideas as developed by Ichazo are as follows: Type One Perfection Type Two Will, Freedom Type Three Harmony, Hope Type Four Origin Type Five Transparency Type Six Strength, Faith Type Seven Wisdom Type Eight Truth Type Nine Love

Paul's decision not to avert his eyes from death epitomizes a fortitude we don't celebrate enough in our death-avoidant culture. His strength was defined by ambition and effort, but also by softness, the opposite of bitterness. He spent much of his life wrestling with the question of how to live a meaningful life, and his book explores that essential territory.