Genie Best Quotes

I think we both like Crazy Anna a little more than regular Anna. It's like magic - while I was trying on the bathing suit last month, it rubbed against my butt and unleashed the Absolute Best Summer Ever Bikini Genie, granting all my wishes.

what did you think would happen—best case? She’ll forget about you when you return to Caliban, you know that. Or do you think she won’t wish, that you can stay here with her? That for the rest of her life, she’ll put you above getting whatever she wishes for? Even better—that for the rest of her life, she won’t slip up and say something like ‘I wish it would stop raining’? You can’t win this. In the end, you’ll be in Caliban. She’ll forget you. And whatever ‘friendship’ you think you have will be gone. Relationships are not for immortals. A bird and a fish may long for each other, but where could they live?

Getting out of the house. Every. Single. Day. The best thing you can do for yourself, your sanity, and your baby is to leave the scene of the crime. Leave the place with the dishes in the sink and the overflowing Diaper Genie. Put your baby in a carrier or a stroller and go on a walk around the neighborhood. Put in some headphones and listen to Beyoncé or Adele or a podcast on business ethics. Do whatever you have to do to remind yourself that there is a life beyond your nest and that you are still part of it.

The trouble with magic is that there's too much it just can't fix. When things go wrong, glimpsing junkyard faerie and crows that can turn into girls and back again doesn't help much. The useful magic's never at hand. The three wishes and the genies in bottles, seven-league boots, invisible cloaks and all. They stay in stories, while out here in the wide world we have to muddle through as best we can on our own.

One day, I wish to find a man like in my books. He has to be just like in one of my books. And he has to love me, love me more than anything in the world. Most important of all, he has to think I’m beautiful.” “Lily, I need to tell you something.” Fazire was going to tell her about Becky’s wish and his mistake and let her look forward to something, let her look forward to the incomparable beauty she was going to be. Most of all, he had to stop her wish now. He didn’t want her wasting it on some fool idea. He wanted it to be special, perfect, to make her world better like she had made Becky and Will’s and, indeed, his. But again she didn’t hear him. Her eyes were bright and they were steady on his. “He has to be tall, very tall and dark and broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped.” Fazire stared. He didn’t even know what “narrow-hipped” meant. “And he has to be handsome, unbelievably handsome, impossibly handsome with a strong, square jaw and powerful cheekbones and tanned skin and beautiful eyes with lush, thick lashes. He has to be clever and very wealthy but hardworking. He has to be virile, fierce, ruthless and rugged.” Now she was getting over his head. He didn’t think there was such a thing as impossibly handsome. How cheekbones could be powerful, Fazire didn’t know. He was even thinking he might have to look up “virile” in the dictionary Sarah had given him. “And he has to be hard and cold and maybe a little bit forbidding, a little bit bad with a broken heart I have to mend or one encased in ice I have to melt or better yet… both!” Fazire thought this was getting a bit ridiculous. It was the most complicated wish he’d ever heard. But she wasn’t yet finished. “We have to go through some trials and tribulations. Something to test our love, make it strong and worthy. And… and… he has to be daring and very masculine. Powerful. People must respect him, maybe even fear him. Graceful too and lithe, like a… like a cat! Or a lion. Or something like that.” She was losing steam and Fazire had to admit he was grateful for it. “And he has to be a good lover.” Lily shocked Fazire by saying. “The best, so good, he could almost make love to me just by using his eyes.” Fazire felt himself blush. Perhaps he should have a look at these books she was reading and show them to Becky. Lily was a very sharp girl, sharp as a tack (another one of Sarah’s sayings, although Fazire couldn’t imagine a tack ever being as clever as Lily) but she was too young to be reading about any man making love to her with his eyes. Fazire had never made love, never would, genies just didn’t. But he was pretty certain fourteen year old girls shouldn’t be thinking about it. Though, he was wrong about that, or at least Becky would tell him that later. Then Fazire realised she’d stopped talking. “Is that it?” he asked. She thought for a bit, clearly not wanting to leave anything out. Then she nodded.

The genie within is your birthright and manifesting the glory of the Creator by carrying out your purpose is the highest and best gift you can give the Giver.

Gen Y's work best in groups, collaboratively, transparently, interactively and entrepreneurially - and have already created positive change in many local communities and around the world.

How often have you heard people brag about what great multi-taskers they are? Perhaps you’ve made the same boast yourself. You might even have heard that members of “Gen Y” are natural multi-taskers, having lived their whole lives constantly switching their attention from texting to IMing to Facebooking to watching TV— all supposedly without missing a beat. We even see training classes designed to teach managers how best to multi-task their Gen Y staff, the implication being that asking someone to focus on a single task through to completion has now become ridiculously old-fashioned for, if not downright heretical to, the new world order. Don’t believe it.

People like you have the luxury of failing more than once. The world will pick you up, dust you off, and send you on your way, nothing lost and nothing gained. You get to keep going, and going, until you get the result you want. And if you do decide to give up, there's a nice cushion for you to land on. That's why you have mottoes like 'fail fast,' and 'failure is the best teacher.

I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to look at my arm trailing away like the streamer on a bike handle. “I can’t be stuck like this!” I wailed. Visions of having to gnaw it off like a jackal in a trap flooded my brain. Quentin knelt before me and put his hands on my trembling shoulders. “You’re not going to be stuck,” he said, his voice low and reassuring in my ears. “You are the most powerful thing on Earth short of a god. You can do absolutely anything. So believe me when I say you can certainly change your arm back to normal.” He held me firmly, the way you’d brace someone trying to pop a dislocated joint back into place. “Just relax and breathe,” he said. “It’ll happen as you will it.” I took his advice and focused on calming down. Focused on nothing. Focused on him. I couldn’t really feel my arm retracting. And I certainly didn’t want to look at it happening. I just . . . remembered how I was supposed to be. I kept quiet, kept at it for what must have been a good ten minutes, until I could feel both of my hands firmly on Quentin’s broad back. “There you go,” he said. I opened my eyes. My arm was normal again. I was aware that we were sort of hugging. I buried my face in his chest and blew my nose on his shirt. “I’m a human being,” I muttered. “I never said you weren’t.” I raised my head. Quentin looked at me with a smile that was free of any smugness. He didn’t even mind my snot on his lapel. “Reincarnation as a human is practically the highest goal any spirit can achieve,” he said. “It’s considered the next best thing to enlightenment. If anything, I’m proud of you for what you’ve accomplished.” I’m not sure why, but the rage that had been so palpable before seemed to float away at his words. Like I could have been angry with him forever had he said anything different. I was mildly relieved. It was a hell of a one-eighty on my part, but right now I didn’t think I wanted to hate Quentin until the end of time. “Genie Lo, you are unquestionably, undeniably human,” he said. “You just . . . have a whole bunch of other stuff going on as well.” “Tell me about it.

In the weeks ahead, Oppenheimer, Acheson and Lilienthal did their best to keep the Acheson-Lilienthal plan alive, lobbying the bureaucracy and the media. In response, Baruch complained to Acheson that he was “embarrassed” that he was being undercut. Hoping that he could still influence Baruch, Acheson agreed to bring everyone together at Blair House on Pennsylvania Avenue on Friday afternoon, May 17, 1946. But as Acheson worked to contain the atomic genie, others were working to contain, if not destroy, Oppenheimer. That same week, J. Edgar Hoover was urging his agents to step up their surveillance of Oppenheimer. Though he hadn’t a shred of evidence, Hoover now floated the possibility that Oppenheimer intended to defect to the Soviet Union. Having decided that Oppenheimer was a Soviet sympathizer, the FBI director reasoned that “he would be far more valuable there as an advisor in the construction of atomic plants than he would be as a casual informant in the United States.” He instructed his agents to “follow Oppenheimer’s activities and contacts closely. . . .

The unknown is terribly tempting, and danger even more so. But in its contempt for the instinct of the individual, modern society has done its best to eliminate both of these phenomena : certainly, under present conditions, the unknown no longer exists except for those whose emotions are easily intoxicated, and as for danger, everything visibly assumes an inoffensive hue each day. And yet in love—love of all kinds, whether it is this physical fury, or this spectre, or this diamond-like genie who murmurs to me a name equivalent to coolness—in all love there resides an outlaw principle, an irrepressible sense of delinquency, contempt for prohibitions and a taste for havoc. Confine this hundred-headed passion within the boundaries of your estates, if you will, or requisition whole palaces for it : nothing can stop it surging forth elsewhere, always elsewhere, there where its appearance is least expected, where its splendour is an outburst. Best of all, love thrusts up shoots where no one plants it : how vulgarity convulses it ! it is liable to give sudden wanton twitches. There are maniacs possessed by the street's haunting memory, and only there can they experience the full flow of their nature.

We don't get to choose the world we live in," she said, her words slow and tired. "To tell you the truth, the one I've been living in so far isn't that great most of the time. The fungus has unlocked a vulnerability in the human mind. The genie is out of the bottle, and there's no putting it back. It will be used, and it will be used for evil, I have no doubt. But I can't solve all the world's problems. I can't even solve my own family's most of the time. All I can do is the best I can with my limited knowledge and the tools at hand.

On the one hand, we know that we “have not because we ask not” (James 4:2). There are many goods that God will not give us unless we honor him and make our hearts safe to receive them through prayer. But on the other hand—what thoughtful persons, knowing the limits of their own wisdom, would dare to pray if they thought God would invariably give them their wishes? Endless stories of genies, lamps, and wishes illustrate the almost clichéd truth that our desires are, as we have seen, “discordantly arranged” and often fatally unwise. However, there is nothing to fear. God will not give us anything contrary to his will, and that will always include what is best for us in the long run (Rom 8:28). We can, therefore, pray confidently because he won’t give us everything we want. “He so tempers the outcome of events according to his incomprehensible plan that the prayers of the saints, which are a mixture of faith and error, are not nullified.

One hundred years of solitude. "There is always something left to love." I think about wanting you back. I think of not wanting you back. And all the things in between. Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes I don't. Like my weakness, I go back to remembering you all the time. So I built myself an imaginary friend, wandered through all its dark shelves. I made it home. I brought genie out of its bottle. I didn't want a wish because you are a dangerous thing to have. I've been there before, and nothing came out of it. I listened to music. All those tears rushed back in. I remembered the dream I had once. I thought I had prayed it away. Then I realized, "I only delayed it." My vulnerabilities started coming in. "Do I terrify?" But no, even my imaginary friend leaves me. And I realize that, "Hey, this is who I am." I have to make the best of this. I have to make your emptiness home. I have to write you away. Perhaps that'll bring the clarity. And these last tears will be the last to fall for you

I know what I am. I left the better part of my sanity on battlefields all over France and Spain. I am a bastard, regardless of whose bastard, and I will fare best if I maintain a mundane little existence here in the most isolated reaches of society, where I can stink of horses and spend most of my day outdoors. I have setbacks, as you call them. I never know when a sound or a word or a memory will rise up and shoot me out of my saddle. Sometimes I drink too much, and often I want to drink too much. But I am human, Emmie. I will not shackle myself to a woman who feels only pity and gratitude and affectionate tolerance for me. I won’t.” “So what do you want of me?” Emmie asked, bewildered. He gave a bitter snort of laughter. “A fairy tale. I wanted a goddamned fairy tale, where you love me and we have Winnie here with us and more children, and they tear all over the property on their ponies and the table is noisy with laughter and teasing and the house always smells wonderful because you are my wife and the genie in our kitchen. On the bad nights, you are there for me to love and to love me, and the bad nights gradually don’t come so often. I want—” “What?” Emmie asked, her throat constricting with pain. “Devlin, what?” “Just that,” he said tiredly. “I want that small, mundane, bucolic existence. A wife, children, love, and a shared life here at Rosecroft. That is my idea of what makes peace meaningful. It can’t be built on pity or convenience or simple affection, Em. Not with me. I’ll run you off in less than two years, but we’ll have a child by then, so you’ll stay, and next thing, we’ll have separate bedrooms, and the brandy decanter will seldom stay full for long. I won’t live that way, and I won’t let it happen to you or our children either.” Another

Leelan,” Wrath barked as he exploded up from his chair. There were all kinds of deep-voiced greetings, but his brothers got out of the way so that she had a clear shot into his arms. And as he lifted her up, he was careful to put no pressure on her belly. “How are you?” he whispered in her ear, knowing that one of these days, she was going to answer that she was having contractions. “Fine and dandy. Oh, my God, I got the best stuff! I had to go blue—I mean, whatever, we’re having a boy. The crib and dressing table are perfect—right, iAm?” The Shadow answered, “Perfect.” No doubt the poor bastard had no interest in the shit at all, but that didn’t matter. He was another one who had stuck by Beth and been her protector in the human world—and Wrath knew the why, of course. It was iAm’s way of paying the household back for letting him and his it’s-complicated brother stay at the mansion after their pad at the Commodore had been compromised. Plus, it was pretty obvi that he liked Beth in a nonromantic kind of way. “Right? I know, right?” Beth hugged Wrath’s neck so hard he couldn’t swallow. “I’m so excited! I want to meet him now!” “Is this nesting?” Wrath asked in the direction of where he’d heard Z’s voice last. “Yeah. And wait for it. You still have Diaper Genies and bottles to get through.” “We’re going Born Free,” Beth informed him, like he knew what that meant. “In case my milk doesn’t come in.” Wrath just sat down in the chair and arranged her on his lap, content to ease back and let her enjoy making her report. And the brothers and the fighters? They rallied right around, asking questions like big brothers would. Any one of them would have laid down his life for her or that young in her womb. It was enough to make a male have to blink a little faster.

Putting out the last of the rusty folding chairs that propagated in barn corners, I couldn’t help but think the luncheon had the air of a shower, an event commemorating a big life change. Sitting down, we formed a loose circle, plates on our laps, while our supportive friends, many of them business owners them- selves, murmured encouraging words to us. To be truthful, I’ve grown suspicious of life events that trigger showers. It feels like the calm before the storm, the harbinger of things to suck. Historically, these were occasions for women to share their collective marriage or child-rearing wisdom gathered along their own journeys. But that’s not what hap- pens today. We’ve become too politically correct to issue opinions based on our experience, thus leaving attendees of such fetes to fall flat of the original intent. I know; I’ve participated in such group failings myself. But unable to bring ourselves to lay out reality for the honoree, we adopt an “ignorance is bliss” attitude and distract the guest of honor with a Cuisinart, a Diaper Genie, and assorted petit fours—and, like those gathered around the barn, just smile, hoping for the best for this new endeavor.

Let’s be honest, merely wishing to be a rockstar, to be at center stage & a dream life isn’t exactly a bulletproof plan (unless you have a Genie in your control). The truth? You’ve got the power to transform your life, but it takes effort. Darling listen – no one in this world & for that matter, the Universe isn’t against you, but they won’t do the work either. So stop blaming others & start focusing on your own actions, thoughts, routine & habits. Become the best version of yourself. Sweetheart, I know, It won’t happen overnight (sorry!), but the journey is amazing. Imagine the best you, then watch yourself become that reality! Life’s too short for “shoulda, woulda, coulda". Make amends, tie up loose ends, release what no longer serves you, finish what you started & start working mindfully on things that you want to achieve… & make those wishes come true! That’s the only way & secret I know…. This is your time for a mind, body & soul upgrade. Blessings to you on your journey to becoming the most incredible YOU. Today I wish & hope that soon you’ll end up where you need to be, with who you’re meant to be with & doing what you should be doing.

When these ancient parts of your brain are active or rehearsing the next disaster using the DMN, they effortlessly hijack your attention. You try to meditate and repetitive negative thinking takes over. In the cage match between Caveman Brain and Bliss Brain, Caveman Brain always wins. Survival is a more important need than happiness or self-actualization. You can’t self-actualize if you’re dead. In 2015 the US National Institutes of Health estimated that less than 10% of the US population meditates. One of the primary reasons for this is that meditation is hard. Most people who start a meditation program drop out. GETTING THE BEST OF ALL WORLDS When writing my first best-selling book, The Genie in Your Genes, I experimented with many schools of stress reduction and meditation. Heart coherence. Mindfulness. EFT tapping. Neurofeedback. Hypnosis. One day I had a Big Idea: What happens when you combine them all? I began playing with a routine that did just that. Here’s what I came up with: First, you tap on acupressure points to relieve stress. Second, you close your eyes and relax your tongue on the floor of your mouth. This sends a signal to your vagus nerve, which wanders all over your body, connecting all the major organ systems. It’s the key signaling component of the parasympathetic nervous system, which governs relaxation. 4.8. The vagus nerve connects with all the major organ systems of your body. Third, you imagine the volume of space inside your body, particularly between your eyes. This automatically generates big alpha in your brain, moving you toward the Awakened Mind. Fourth, you slow your breathing down to 6 seconds per inbreath and 6 seconds per outbreath. This puts you into heart coherence. Fifth, you imagine your breath coming in and going out from your heart area, and you picture a sphere of energy in your heart. Sixth, you send a beam of heart energy to a person or place that makes you feel wonderful. This puts you into deep coherence. After enjoying the connection for a while, you send compassion to everyone and everything in the universe. Feeling universal compassion produces the major brain changes seen in fMRI scans of longtime meditators. As we’ll see in Chapters 6 and 8, compassion moves the needle like nothing else. At this point, most people drop into Bliss Brain automatically. They’re in a combination of alpha, heart coherence, and parasympathetic dominance. They haven’t been asked to still their minds, sit cross-legged, follow a guru, or believe in a deity. They’ve just followed a sequence of simple physical steps. After a few minutes of universal compassion, you again focus your beam on a single person or place. You then gently disengage and draw the energy beam back into your own heart. Seventh, you direct your beam of compassion to a part of your body that is suffering or in pain. You end the meditation by returning your attention to the here and now.

God isn't like a genie in a bottle who will do whatever we ask. Prayer is about talking with God, getting to know him, learning to love the things he loves. He's preparing us to be fit citizens for the kingdom to come, and his goal isn't to give us everything we want in this world. Don't you want whatever God knows is best?