Guide And Protect Me Quotes

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Protect me from knowing what I don't need to know. Protect me from even knowing that there are things to know that I don't know. Protect me from knowing that I decided not to know about the things that I decided not to know about. Amen. Lord, lord, lord. Protect me from the consequences of the above prayer.
Douglas Adams (Mostly Harmless (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, #5))
First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty. When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer. Guide her, protect her When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age. Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit. May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers. Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait. O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed. And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it. And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Tina Fey (Bossypants)
Kahlan guide me. Kahlan teach me. Kahlan protect me. In your light I thrive. In your mercy I am sheltered. In your wisdom I am humbled. I live only to love you. My life is yours.
Terry Goodkind (Wizard's First Rule (Sword of Truth, #1))
In the track of fear we have so many conditions, expectations, and obligations that we create a lot of rules just to protect ourselves against emotional pain, when the truth is that there shouldn't be any rules. These rules affect the quality of the channels of communication between us, because when we are afraid, we lie. If you have the expectation that I have to be a certain way, then I feel the obligation to be that way.The truth is I am bot what you want me to be. When I am honest and I am what I am, you are already hurt, you are mad. Then I lie to you, because I'm afraid of your judgment. I am afraid you are going to blame me, find me guilty, and punish me.
Miguel Ruiz (The Mastery of Love: A Practical Guide to the Art of Relationship --Toltec Wisdom Book)
He leaned in. I felt his breath against my neck, then the press of his mouth against my skin just above the collar, almost a sigh. “Don’t,” I said. I drew back, but he held me tighter. His hand went to the nape of my neck, long fingers twining in my hair, easing my head back. I closed my eyes. “Let me,” he murmured against my throat. His heel hooked around my leg, bringing me closer. I felt the heat of his tongue, the flex of hard muscle beneath bare skin as he guided my hands around his waist. “It isn’t real,” he said. “Let me.” I felt that rush of hunger, the steady, longing beat of desire that neither of us wanted, but that gripped us anyway. We were alone in the world, unique. We were bound together and always would be. And it didn’t matter. I couldn’t forget what he’d done, and I wouldn’t forgive what he was: a murderer. A monster. A man who had tortured my friends and slaughtered the people I’d tried to protect. I shoved away from him. “It’s real enough.
Leigh Bardugo (Ruin and Rising (The Shadow and Bone Trilogy, #3))
It is almost as if we are all playing a big game of hide-and-go-seek. We all hide expecting to be found, but no one has been labelled the seeker. We stand behind the wall, at first excited, then worried, then bored, then anxious, then angry. We hide and hide. After a while, the game is not fun anymore. Where is my seeker? Where is the person who is supposed to come find me here in my protected shell and cut me open? Where is that one who will make me trust him, make me comfortable, make me feel whole? Some people rot on the spot, waiting for the seeker that never comes. The most important truth that I can relate to you, if you are hiding and waiting, is that the seeker is you and the world, behind so many walls, awaits.
Vironika Tugaleva (The Love Mindset: An Unconventional Guide to Healing and Happiness)
I arise today through God’s strength to pilot me; God’s might to uphold me, God’s wisdom to guide me, God’s ear to hear me, God’s word to speak for me, God’s hand to guard me, God’s way to lie before me, God’s shield to protect me afar and anear, alone or in a multitude.
St. Patrick
I am never alone, my Soul guides me and my Guardian Angel protects me. That is teamwork at its best.
Genevieve Gerard
When faced with choosing between attributing their pain to “being crazy” and having had abusive parents, clients will choose “crazy” most of the time. Dora, a 38-year-old, was profoundly abused by multiple family perpetrators and has grappled with cutting and eating disordered behaviors for most of her life. She poignantly echoed this dilemma in her therapy: I hate it when we talk about my family as “dysfunctional” or “abusive.” Think about what you are asking me to accept—that my parents didn't love me, care about me, or protect me. If I have to choose between "being abused" or "being sick and crazy," it's less painful to see myself as nuts than to imagine my parents as evil.
Lisa Ferentz (Treating Self-Destructive Behaviors in Trauma Survivors: A Clinician's Guide)
Life is a planetary level phenomonon and the Earth has been alive for at least 3000 million years. To me the human move to take responsibility for the living Earth is laughable - the rhethoric of the powerless. The planet takes care of us, not we of it. Our self inflated moral imperative to guide a wayward Earth or heal a sick planet is evidence of our immense capacity for self-delusion. Rather, we need to protect us from ourselves.
Lynn Margulis (Symbiotic Planet: A New Look at Evolution)
It wasn't a sign of weakness to tell what happened to me. I feel guilt no longer, only regret. The other emotions are coming around too. How much further do I need to go? I'm not sure, but there is comfort in the fact that I am in the hands of expert guides, both in the doctor's office and at home with Sue.
Charles L. Bailey Jr. (In the Shadow of the Cross)
I can't stop wanting to help, and by 'help,' I really mean guide, and by 'guide,' I really mean protect. That has nothing to do with you and whether you can take care of yourself. It's about me and what I want, which is to make life easier for you, because I know it isn't easy and it's only getting harder, and I'm scrambling madly to smooth those rough edges before you get hurt.
Kelley Armstrong (Living with the Dead (Women of the Otherworld, #9))
I now offer this entire trip to You. Guide me where You will, knowing I’m surrounded always by Your protection. Free me from those who even unconsciously might wish me harm. I am fulfilled and safe, held in the arms of Your Love.
Tosha Silver (Change Me Prayers: The Hidden Power of Spiritual Surrender)
Buddha is our inherent nature—our buddha nature—and what that means is that if you’re going to grow up fully, the way that it happens is that you begin to connect with the intelligence that you already have. It’s not like some intelligence that’s going to be transplanted into you. If you’re going to be fully mature, you will no longer be imprisoned in the childhood feeling that you always need to protect yourself or shield yourself because things are too harsh. If you’re going to be a grown-up—which I would define as being completely at home in your world no matter how difficult the situation—it’s because you will allow something that’s already in you to be nurtured. You allow it to grow, you allow it to come out, instead of all the time shielding it and protecting it and keeping it buried. Someone once told me, “When you feel afraid, that’s ‘fearful buddha.’” That could be applied to whatever you feel. Maybe anger is your thing. You just go out of control and you see red, and the next thing you know you’re yelling or throwing something or hitting someone. At that time, begin to accept the fact that that’s “enraged buddha.” If you feel jealous, that’s “jealous buddha.” If you have indigestion, that’s “buddha with heartburn.” If you’re happy, “happy buddha”; if bored, “bored buddha.” In other words, anything that you can experience or think is worthy of compassion; anything you could think or feel is worthy of appreciation.
Pema Chödrön (Start Where You Are: A Guide to Compassionate Living)
Dearly weird and motley beings, we're gathered here today for . . . yada, yada, yada. Seth say something profound and sweet to Lydia." Savitar "My Lydia is like a star rising to guide me through the darkest night." Seth "Look, kid, I can say the words for you, but I think she'd rather hear them from your lips. Ignore the assholes in the chairs. If one of them laughs, I'll gut him for you." Savitar Lydia laid her hand against his cheek and kissed his lips. "Hey, hey, hey!" Savitar snapped. "You're jumping ahead, woman. It's your turn to make a vow to him." "Love is paitent. Love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast. It does not proud. It is not rude. It is not self seeking. It is not easily angered> It keeps no records of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, it always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." Lydia "Yeah, okay,beings . . . now you ." Savitar "Alright then, to the handful here, let me present Mr. and Mrs. Demigod jackal beings." Savitar "You know this would be much easier if some of us had last names." Savitar to Seth and Lydia "Would you stop ruining this for them?" Ma'at "I'm not ruining it, Mennie, I'm making it memorable," Savitar
Sherrilyn Kenyon (Dark Bites (Dark-Hunter #22.5; Hellchaser, #0.5; Dream-Hunter, #0.5; Were-Hunter, #3.5))
FEBRUARY 17 I WILL CAUSE YOU TO DWELL IN SAFETY I HAVE SENT My angels to surround you and to cause you to dwell in safety. They will deliver you from all danger and will surround you with My protection. I will hold you up, and you will be safe. My eyes are turned on My righteous servants, and My ears are attentive to your cry. I will deliver you from all your troubles. The name of My Son is a fortified tower for you, and you can run to it where you will be safe. Do not be afraid, for I will guide you safely wherever you go. You can lie down and sleep, for I have made you to dwell in safety. I am Your God, and I will keep you safe and will protect you forever from the wicked who freely strut around in wickedness. PSALMS 34:7–22; 78:52; 12:5 Prayer Declaration You will answer me, Lord, when I call to You, and will give me relief from my distress. You will have mercy on me and hear my prayer. You will grant peace in my family, in my land, and no one will cause me to be afraid. You will walk with me and will be My God, and I will be Your faithful servant.
John Eckhardt (Daily Declarations for Spiritual Warfare: Biblical Principles to Defeat the Devil)
Even while I resisted, and long before I surrendered, God was working in my life—guiding me, protecting me, and training me.
Tammy L. Gray (Splintered Oak (Winsor, #3))
I believe in Free Will, the Force Almighty by which we conduct ourselves as if we were the sons and daughters of a just and wise God, even if there is no such Supreme Being. And by free will, we can choose to do good on this earth, no matter that we all die, and do not know where we go when we die, or if a justice or explanation awaits us. I believe that we can, through our reason, know what good is, and in the communion of men and women, in which the forgiveness of wrongs will always be more significant than the avenging of them, and that in the beautiful natural world that surrounds us, we represent the best and the finest of beings, for we alone can see that natural beauty, appreciate it, learn from it, weep for it, and seek to conserve it and protect it. I believe finally that we are the only true moral force in the physical world, the makers of, ethics and moral ideas, and that we must be as good as the gods we created in the past to guide us. I believe that through our finest efforts, we will succeed finally in creating heaven on earth, and we do it every time that we love, every time that we embrace, every time that we commit to create rather than destroy, every time that we place life over death, and the natural over what is unnatural, insofar as we are able to define it. And I suppose I do believe in the final analysis that a peace of mind can be obtained in the face of the worst horrors and the worst losses. It can be obtained by faith in change and in will and in accident and by faith in ourselves, that we will do the right thing, more often than not, in the face of adversity. For ours is the power and the glory, because we are capable of visions and ideas which are ultimately stronger and more enduring than we are. That is my credo. That is my belief, for what it's worth, and it sustains me. And if I were to die right now, I wouldn't be afraid. Because I can't believe that horror or chaos awaits us. If any revelation awaits us at all, it must be as good as our ideals and our philosophy. For surely nature must embrace the visible and the invisible, and it couldn't fall short of us. The thing that makes the flowers open and the snowflakes fall must contain a wisdom and a final secret as intricate and beautiful as the blooming camellia or the clouds gathering above, so white and so pure in the blackness. If that isn't so, then we are in the grip of a staggering irony. And all the spooks of hell might as well dance. There could be a devil. People who burn other people to death are fine. There could be anything. But the world is simply to beautiful for that. At least it seems that way to me.
Anne Rice (The Witching Hour (Lives of the Mayfair Witches, #1))
Protect me from knowing what I don’t need to know. Protect me from even knowing that there are things to know that I don’t know. Protect me from knowing that I decided not to know about the things that I decided not to know about. Amen.
Douglas Adams (Mostly Harmless (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, #5))
The one person I talked to was God, but He wasn’t part of my fantasy world. He was real to me, a presence inside and around that calmed and reassured me. Just as North American Indians might commune with their spirit guides or pagans look to the seasons and the sun, I spoke to God as I tried to make sense of what had happened to me and asked Him to protect me from harm. God and I didn’t talk about the big things in life—we didn’t engage in philosophical debates or argue about religion—but I talked to Him endlessly because I knew we shared something important. I didn’t have proof that He existed, but I believed in Him anyway because I knew He was real. God did the same for me. Unlike people, He didn’t need proof that I existed—He knew I did.
Martin Pistorius (Ghost Boy: The Miraculous Escape of a Misdiagnosed Boy Trapped Inside His Own Body)
I'm not lonely." "I didn't think I was either." I shrug so my cloak falls closed in front of me. "Do you want me to marry Mr. Doyle because you think I need a man to protect me? Or complete me? I'll pass on that, thank you very much." "No," he says. "I just wish you had someone cheering for you all the time, because you deserve it.
Mackenzi Lee (The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy (Montague Siblings, #2))
Eli: Dear Lord, thank you for giving me the strength and the conviction to complete the task you entrusted to me. Thank you for guiding me straight and true through the many obstacles in my path. And for keeping me resolute when all around seemed lost. Thank you for your protection and your many signs along the way. Thank you for any good that I may have done, I'm so sorry about the bad. Thank you for the friend I made. Please watch over her as you watched over me. Thank you for finally allowing me to rest. I'm so very tired, but I go now to my rest at peace. Knowing that I have done right with my time on this earth. I fought the good fight, I finished the race, I kept the faith.
Book of Eli Movie
To cultivate these diverse elements of our existence means to nurture them as we would a garden. Just as a garden needs to be protected, tended, and cared for, so do ethical integrity, focused awareness, and understanding. No matter how deep our insight into the empty and contingent nature of things, that alone will do little to cultivate these qualities. Each of these areas in life becomes a challenge, an injunction to act. There is no room for complacency, for they all bear a tag that declares: "Cultivate Me.
Stephen Batchelor (Buddhism without Beliefs: A Contemporary Guide to Awakening)
In this dedication of a Nation we humbly ask the blessing of God. May he protect each and every one of us. May He guide me in the days to come.
Franklin D. Roosevelt
The only person who could protect my time was me.
Rachel Macy Stafford (Hands Free Mama: A Guide to Putting Down the Phone, Burning the To-Do List, and Letting Go of Perfection to Grasp What Really Matters!)
I don't want to die. I deserve, certainly, the most extreme punishment society has, and I think society deserves to be protected from me and from others like me. That's the irony. What I'm talking about is going beyond retribution because there is no way in the world that killing me is going to restore those beautiful children to their parents and correct and soothe the pain.
James C. Dobson (Life on the Edge: A Young Adult's Guide to a Meaningful Future)
...I owed her a debt of gratitude. More than gratitude, much more. I could finally see what had always been there. She had been more than an attendant, more than a friend, more than a sister. She had been a mother to me. She had worried, sought to protect me from danger, guided me toward the best. She had looked out for my future, assessed the worthiness of everyone to be in my life. And in that way, she had taken me as her purpose in life, the one who gave her meaning. I had a constant love all along. And in recognizing that, I felt moved to tears. "How could you step out of my life?" I told her. "if you do don't join me, I will be lost. No one would worry about me as much as you. No one knows me better, knows my past and what this new life means. I should have told you a long time ago." I became teary-eyed. She kept her lips sealed, but her jaw was trembling. "You are the only loyal person in my life, the only one I can trust." Tears fell from her eyes. "Now you know. I was always the only one." "We love each other," I said with a light laugh. "In spite of all the trouble I've given you, you stayed with me. So it must be that you loved me like a mother.
Amy Tan (The Valley of Amazement)
Falconi said, "Hey, Gregorovich, you're in fine form. How about a few words to send us on our way?" The ship pretended to clear his throat. "Fine. Here me now. The Lord of Empty Spaces protect us as we venture forth to fight our foes. Guide our hands - and our thoughts - and guide our weapons that we may work our will upon these perversions of peace. Let daring be our shield and righteous fury be our sword, and may our enemies flee at the sight of those that defend the defenseless, and may we stand unbowed and unbroken in the face of evil. Today is the Day of Wrath, and we are the instruments of our species' retribution. Deo duce, ferro comitante. Amen." "Amen," said Hwa-jung and Nielsen. "Now that. was a prayer!" said Sparrow, grinning.
Christopher Paolini (To Sleep in a Sea of Stars)
Someone once elaborated on each line of the well-known and much-loved Psalm 23: The Lord is my Shepherd — that’s relationship! I shall not be in want — that’s supply! He makes me lie down in green pastures — that’s rest! He leads me beside quiet waters — that’s refreshment! He restores my soul — that’s healing! He guides me in the paths of righteousness — that’s guidance! For His name’s sake — that’s purpose! Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death —that’s testing! I will fear no evil — that’s protection! For you are with me — that’s faithfulness! Your rod and the staff, they comfort me — that’s discipline! You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies —that’s hope! You anoint my head with oil — that’s consecration! My cup overflows — that’s abundance! Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life —that’s blessing! And I will dwell in the house of the Lord — that’s security! Forever — that’s eternity! AUTHOR OF ELABORATED MATERIAL UNKNOWN
Ravi Zacharias (The Grand Weaver: How God Shapes Us Through the Events of Our Lives)
Protection From Illness Sheikh Ali bin Idrees Yaqoobi (r.a) states that once his spiritual guide, Sheikh Ali bin Haiti (r.a) took him to al-Ghawth al-A’zam (r.a) and presented him in the court of the great Saint. Sheikh Ali bin Idrees (r.a) states: “Al-Ghawth al-A’zam Sheikh Abdul Qadir Jilani (r.a) was wearing a shawl during this time. He removed the shawl and placed it over me and said, ‘From now on, you will be protected from all illnesses’. From that day on until now, and I am 65 years old, I have never been ill
Hazrat Shaykh Sayyid Abdul Kadir Jilani
I hope you’re ready for me,” he rasped, rolling her under him, “‘cuz in about five seconds, I’m gonna be inside you.” “Ray Morgan, I was born ready for you,” she breathed against his ear, even as she guided him to her entrance. He slid home with one strong thrust. Both of them froze.
Norah Wilson (Saving Grace (Serve and Protect, #2))
I rise today with the power of God to pilot me, God's strength to sustain me, God's wisdom to guide me, God's eye to look ahead for me, God's ear to hear me, God's word to speak for me, God's hand to protect me, God's way before me, God's shield to defend me, God's host to deliver me, from snares of devils, from evil temptations, from nature's failings, from all who wish to harm me, far or near, alone and in a crowd.
"Saint Patrick's Breastplate " Old Irish eighth-century prayer
No matter how many precautions we take, none of us are truly in control. Only God can claim that kind of authority. All we can do is use the good sense he provides and trust him to guide us.” Meredith stroked his arm from shoulder to wrist, then lightly clasped his hand. “If you want to protect me, Travis, prayer is just as powerful a weapon as that gun you carry.” Travis blinked, stunned by the simplicity of that statement.
Karen Witemeyer (Short-Straw Bride (Archer Brothers, #1))
And that brings me to one last point. I've got a simple message for all the dedicated and patriotic federal workers who have either worked without pay, or who have been forced off the job without pay for these last few weeks. Including most of my own staff. Thank you. Thanks for your service. Welcome back. What you do is important. It matters. You defend our country overseas, you deliver benefits to our troops who earned them when they come home, you guard our borders, you protect our civil rights, you help businesses grow and gain footholds in overseas markets. You protect the air we breathe, and the water our children drink, and you push the boundaries of science and space, and you guide hundreds of thousands of people each day through the glories of this country. Thank you. What you do is important, and don't let anybody else tell you different.
Barack Obama
Hmmm,” hummed Rick. “Now isn’t this pleasant?” With a sigh, he softly said, “’Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.’” “That’s beautiful,” whispered Amelia as if not wanting to ruin the pleasant mood he had just created. “Henry Wadsworth Longfellow… “Have you ever heard of the constellation: Berenice’s Hair?”… “It’s named after an Egyptian queen. Berenice and Ptolemy were newlyweds when he went off to war. She was worried about him so she made a deal with the goddess of love to protect her husband. In order to save his life, Berenice was supposed to cut off her long golden hair, which she was very proud of. She felt it was her crowning glory, but she was willing to sacrifice anything for the man she loved. The goddess was so pleased with her newly acquired treasure that she took it up to heaven.
Linda Weaver Clarke (Her Lost Love (Amelia Moore Detective Series #5))
Trees stand at the heart of ecology, and they must come to stand at the heart of human politics. Tagore said, Trees are the earth’s endless effort to speak to the listening heaven. But people—oh, my word—people! People could be the heaven that the Earth is trying to speak to. “If we could see green, we’d see a thing that keeps getting more interesting the closer we get. If we could see what green was doing, we’d never be lonely or bored. If we could understand green, we’d learn how to grow all the food we need in layers three deep, on a third of the ground we need right now, with plants that protected one another from pests and stress. If we knew what green wanted, we wouldn’t have to choose between the Earth’s interests and ours. They’d be the same!” One more click takes her to the next slide, a giant fluted trunk covered in red bark that ripples like muscle. “To see green is to grasp the Earth’s intentions. So consider this one. This tree grows from Colombia to Costa Rica. As a sapling, it looks like a piece of braided hemp. But if it finds a hole in the canopy, the sapling shoots up into a giant stem with flaring buttresses.” She turns to regard the image over her shoulder. It’s the bell of an enormous angel’s trumpet, plunged into the Earth. So many miracles, so much awful beauty. How can she leave so perfect a place? “Did you know that every broadleaf tree on Earth has flowers? Many mature species flower at least once a year. But this tree, Tachigali versicolor, this one flowers only once. Now, suppose you could have sex only once in your entire life. . . .” The room laughs now. She can’t hear, but she can smell their nerves. Her switchback trail through the woods is twisting again. They can’t tell where their guide is going. “How can a creature survive, by putting everything into a one-night stand? Tachigali versicolor’s act is so quick and decisive that it boggles me. You see, within a year of its only flowering, it dies.” She lifts her eyes. The room fills with wary smiles for the weirdness of this thing, nature. But her listeners can’t yet tie her rambling keynote to anything resembling home repair. “It turns out that a tree can give away more than its food and medicines. The rain forest canopy is thick, and wind-borne seeds never land very far from their parent. Tachigali’s once-in-a-lifetime offspring germinate right away, in the shadow of giants who have the sun locked up. They’re doomed, unless an old tree falls. The dying mother opens a hole in the canopy, and its rotting trunk enriches the soil for new seedlings. Call it the ultimate parental sacrifice. The common name for Tachigali versicolor is the suicide tree.
Richard Powers (The Overstory)
Yet, when I’m alone, I rarely feel lonely. If I were writing the thesaurus entries for alone, the synonyms would include: authentic, free, individual, indulgent, open, peaceful, protected, pure, quiet, rejuvenating, solitary. Thanks to the amount of time I spend alone, I’m on intimate terms with myself. I have a running internal dialogue that informs my life, my writing, my relationships. I observe and absorb the world around me. I’m good at being alone.
Cynthia Kim (Nerdy, Shy, and Socially Inappropriate: A User Guide to an Asperger Life)
Never in my life had I even contemplated making love on a motorcycle, but there was no way Gareth would let me fall. I understood this on a primal level. He would keep me from harm, protect me... No matter how much I distracted and pleasured him. He pulled gently at the sensitive tip of my breast with his lips, soothing and teasing all at once. I reached behind to brace myself on the handlebars, my back arching toward him, offering myself as I watched his mouth on my skin, his tongue circling my nipple. He moved his other hand lower, pushing the bottom of my dress up. Moving his fingers up the soft skin of my inner thigh, he rubbed and teased me through the thin fabric of my thong underwear. "I need you," I gasped. "Now." He ripped my thong like it'd been made of tissue paper, and slid his fingers deep inside of me. His growl made me shiver with desire as he discovered just how ready I was for him. I gripped the handlebars tighter and leaned back a little, breaking the kiss as I stared into his eyes. Gareth took hold of my hips and pulled me closer, guiding me onto him. Every rock hard inch slid into me so slowly, my entire body shuddered with pleasure. He reached forward, taking my hands from the grips and putting them around his neck. Nose to nose, his dark eyes locked on mine as he thrust deeper inside of me. "You're mine. I'm yours." I wasn't sure what was happening, but my wolf came alive in my soul and I whispered, "I claim my mate.
Lisa Kessler (Blood Moon (Moon, #3))
Dear God, I thank You that You are my Shepherd. You guide me, You protect me, and You give me Your peace. You are the One who restores my soul. You know my weaknesses and the times I’ve caved in to fear. Now, in my weakness, I will choose to rely on Your strength. You are my Shepherd. I am choosing to rely on Your power for me to move from fear to faith. As I turn my fear over to You, use it for good in my life to remind me of my continual need for You. In Your holy name I pray. Amen
June Hunt (Fear: No Longer Afraid (Hope for the Heart))
Well?” pressed Amar. “Are we going or not?” We? I looked him over. The garland of red carnations hung limply around his neck. He held out his hand like a casual invitation, indifferent to the tumult outside the chambers. How could I trust him? What if he sold me to the enemies? He had no reason to protect me…unless I meant something to him. Something else guided my hands. Images flashing sideways--a different hand, a samite curtain. I was convinced that we owned this single moment, this sphere of breath, this heartbeat shared like a secret. I don’t know what possessed me, but I took the white garland and threw it around his neck. I stared at my hands, not quite believing what they’d done: With one throw, I had married him. Amar lifted the garland of white flowers and grinned. “I hoped you’d choose me.” The right corner of his lips curled faster than the left. It was such a small movement, but I couldn’t look away from it. His smile was disjointed, like he was out of practice.
Roshani Chokshi (The Star-Touched Queen (The Star-Touched Queen, #1))
Though witchcraft and science seem like they’re at odds, many who walk a green path have found that technology is an excellent tool for getting in touch with the natural world. You can use your favourite tech to keep a journal of your work with plants, identify flora and fauna in the wild, and do years-worth of research with the click of a button. Green technology like solar or wind power can connect you with the energy of the earth while working to protect the environment and that, to me, is magic.
Paige Vanderbeck (Green Witchcraft: A Practical Guide to Discovering the Magic of Plants, Herbs, Crystals, and Beyond)
Lillian concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, when all she wanted was to head back to Westcliff and fling herself upon him in a mindless attack. “That arrogant, pompous clodpole—” “Easy,” she heard St. Vincent murmur. “Westcliff is in a thorough temper—and I wouldn’t care to engage him in your defense. I can best him any day with a sword, but not with fists.” “Why not?” Lillian muttered. “You’ve got a longer reach than Westcliff.” “He’s got the most vicious right hook I’ve ever encountered. And I have an unfortunate habit of trying to shield my face—which frequently leaves me open for gut punches.” The unashamed conceit behind the statement drew a reluctant laugh from Lillian. As the heat of anger faded, she reflected that with a face like his, one could hardly blame him for desiring to protect it. “Have you fought with the earl often?” she asked. “Not since we were boys at school. Westcliff did everything a bit too perfectly—I had to challenge him now and then just to make certain that his vanity didn’t become overinflated. Here…shall we take a more scenic route through the garden?” Lillian hesitated, recalling the numerous stories that she had heard about him. “I’m not certain that would be wise.” St. Vincent smiled. “What if I promise on my honor not to make any advances to you?” Considering that, Lillian nodded. “In that case, all right.” St. Vincent guided her through a small leafy grove, and onto a graveled path shaded by a row of ancient yews. “I should probably tell you,” he remarked casually, “that since my sense of honor is completely deteriorated, any promise I make is worthless.” “Then I should tell you that my right hook is likely ten times more vicious than Westcliff’s.” St. Vincent grinned.
Lisa Kleypas (It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers, #2))
Gregori stepped away from the huddled mass of tourists, putting distance between himself and the guide. He walked completely erect,his head high, his long hair flowing around him. His hands were loose at his sides, and his body was relaxed, rippling with power. "Hear me now, ancient one." His voice was soft and musical, filling the silence with beauty and purity. "You have lived long in this world, and you weary of the emptiness. I have come in anwer to your call." "Gregori.The Dark One." The evil voice hissed and growled the words in answer. The ugliness tore at sensitive nerve endings like nails on a chalkboard. Some of the tourists actually covered their ears. "How dare you enter my city and interfere where you have no right?" "I am justice,evil one. I have come to set your free from the bounaries holding you to this place." Gregori's voice was so soft and hypnotic that those listening edged out from their sanctuaries.It beckoned and pulled, so that none could resist his every desire. The black shape above their head roiled like a witch's cauldron. A jagged bolt of lightning slammed to earth straight toward the huddled group. Gregori raised a hand and redirected the force of energy away from the tourists and Savannah. A smile edged the cruel set of his mouth. "You think to mock me with display,ancient one? Do not attempt to anger what you do not understand.You came to me.I did not hunt you.You seek to threaten my lifemate and those I count as my friends.I can do no other than carry the justice of our people to you." Gregori's voice was so reasonable, so perfect and pure,drawing obedience from the most recalcitrant of criminals. The guide made a sound,somewhere between disbelief and fear.Gregori silenced him with a wave of his hand, needing no distractions. But the noise had been enough for the ancient one to break the spell Gregori's voice was weaving around him. The dark stain above their heads thrashed wildly, as if ridding itself ot ever-tightening bonds before slamming a series of lightning strikes at the helpless mortals on the ground. Screams and moans accompanied the whispered prayers, but Gregori stood his ground, unflinching. He merely redirected the whips of energy and light, sent them streaking back into the black mass above their heads.A hideous snarl,a screech of defiance and hatred,was the only warning before it hailed. Hufe golfball-sized blocks of bright-red ice rained down toward them. It was thick and horrible to see, the shower of frozen blood from the skies. But it stopped abruptly, as if an unseen force held it hovering inches from their heads. Gregori remained unchanged, impassive, his face a blank mask as he shielded the tourists and sent the hail hurtling back at their attacker.From out of the cemetery a few blocks from them, an army of the dead rose up. Wolves howled and raced along beside the skeletons as they moved to intercept the Carpathian hunter. Savannah. He said her name once, a soft brush in her mind. I've got it, she sent back instantly.Gregori had his hands full dealing with the abominations the vampire was throwing at him; he did't need to waste his energy protecting the general public from the apparition. She moved out into the open, a small, fragile figure, concentrating on the incoming threat. To those dwelling in the houses along the block and those driving in their cars, she masked the pack of wolves as dogs racing down the street.The stick=like skeletons, grotesque and bizarre, were merely a fast-moving group of people. She held the illusion until they were within a few feet of Gregori.Dropping the illusion, she fed every ounce of her energy and power to Gregori so he could meet the attack.
Christine Feehan (Dark Magic (Dark, #4))
You can have that life,” he told her. “It’s right there for you to take.” “I love you,” Eve quickly countered. “Loving me hurts you, doesn’t it?” Beckett asked, looking down. “No, you don’t have to tell me. I know. I can smell it. I can smell the pain coming off of you,” he said, looking at the floor. “You had love before and a future. What does loving me get you, Eve? What does it get you?” He stood, angry with himself. “I don’t need to get anything from you. It’s the way it is. There’s no changing that.” She gripped the porch railing. Beckett stepped close to Eve and tenderly tucked a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “You’re saying goodbye,” she said, her eyes full of questions. “Do you know there are other little girls out there like that one? I lived with a few of them. They would sell their souls for a mother like you.” At the word mother Eve’s chin crumpled. She tried to hold back the tears, but they wouldn’t obey. “See that? It’s what you need. You need that—a little kid calling you Mom.” Beckett put his arms around her as she shattered. The pain she kept hidden surfaced from where it had been smoldering. When he felt her knees weaken, he hugged her harder. “That’s right. It’s okay. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, baby. You want normal.” He guided her to the chair he’d vacated. “There’s a guy out there who’ll hold your hand. There’s a little girl out there. She’s waiting for you. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.” He knelt in front of her and rubbed her arms. She slapped at his hands, letting outrage carry her words. “I don’t want another man. I want you. I’ve killed for you. I’ve protected you. What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you honestly think these hands that kill can hold a child?” She held her fingers in front of her face. “Yes. Absolutely. Don’t you know, gorgeous? Mothers are some of the most vicious killers out there, if their kids are threatened. You just have more practice.” He took her hands and kissed them. “I’ve lost too much. I can’t lose you. Don’t make me. Please. I’ll beg you if I have to.” She watched his lips on her palms. He shook his head and used her own words against her. “The hardest part of loving someone is not being with them when you want to be.” He stood, and she mirrored his motion,already shaking her head. “Don’t say it.” Beckett ignored her; he knew what he had to do. He had to set beautiful Eve free to find that soft, touchable woman he’d seen her become with the little girl.
Debra Anastasia (Poughkeepsie (Poughkeepsie Brotherhood, #1))
Telltale Signs That You Grew Up as a “Little Adult” It’s often so difficult for adult daughters to step back and see how they were put into the adult helper role. To help you recognize if this dynamic echoes your experience, I’ve created a pair of checklists to help you identify how mothering your mother shaped and influenced a significant part of your life. When you were a child did you: • Believe that your most important job in life was to solve your mother’s problems or ease her pain—no matter what the cost to you? • Ignore your own feelings and pay attention only to what she wanted and how she felt? • Protect her from the consequences of her behavior? • Lie or cover up for her? • Defend her when anyone said anything bad about her? • Think that your good feelings about yourself depended on her approval? • Have to keep her behavior secret from your friends? As an adult, do these statements ring true for you: • I will do anything to avoid upsetting my mother, and the other adults in my life. • I can’t stand it if I feel I’ve let anyone down. • I am a perfectionist, and I blame myself for everything that goes wrong. • I’m the only person I can really count on. I have to do things myself. • People like me not for myself but for what I can do for them. • I have to be strong all the time. If I need anything or ask for help, it means I’m weak. • I should be able to solve every problem. • When everyone else is taken care of, I can finally have what I want. • I feel angry, unappreciated, and used much of the time, but I push these feelings deep inside myself.
Susan Forward (Mothers Who Can't Love: A Healing Guide for Daughters)
Young children are for the most part just and moral. They love preachy stories because they do in fact understand that actions have consequences. Yet they turn to adults for the mercy and subtlety that they themselves can’t yet summon. And who can blame them? They are still little and vulnerable, uncompromising to a fault. . . . they want an adult’s protection from their own rough justice. This, I think, is the one true story of early childhood, the yin and yang of being a small person. It’s confusing emotional terrain for children to inhabit, and we must guide them gently through it. Is it intimacy you want, or freedom? Protection or power? Childhood is a kind of enslavement, but it’s a liberation, too. Young children’s emotions are all about this basic conflict. Feed me. Hold me. Comfort me. Fix me. I hate you! I can do it myself.
Erika Christakis (The Importance of Being Little: What Preschoolers Really Need from Grownups)
When you have a problem with an adult—say, for example, you have a friend who's always borrowing things and returning them late or broken or not at all—you probably don't think about how you can punish that person. You think about how to respectfully protect yourself. You don't say, "Now that you've given me back my jacket with a stain on it, and broken the side mirror off my car, I'm going to . . . slap you." That would be assault. Or ". . . lock you in your room for an hour." That would be imprisonment. Or ". . . take away your smart phone." That would be theft. You'd probably say something like, "I don't feel comfortable lending you clothes anymore. I get very upset when they come back damaged. And, I can't lend you my car, which I just got repaired. I need to have it in working condition. In fact, I'd appreciate some help with the repair bill!
Joanna Faber (How to Talk so Little Kids Will Listen: A Survival Guide to Life with Children Ages 2-7)
The need is not the call. This piece of wisdom has saved the lives of many a missionary, especially in Africa, where the needs are so great that they can pull you to pieces. A missionary can put out so many fires trying to meet needs around him that he suffers burnout. I have known missionary friends who said, “I hear the cry of lost souls calling me into the mission field.” These workers are headed for the missionary bone yard. They have responded to the call of the need rather than the call of God. We must go where God sends us, speak what He gives us to speak, hear His voice and obey it – this is our best protection from burnout. It will also guide us to the very best strategy for accomplishing His mission. For everything a man does to follow the call of God, there are ten things he does not do. We cannot do everything. We must focus on the call and not simply the needs.
Reinhard Bonnke (Living a Life of Fire - Reinhard Bonnke - An Autobiography)
The Lord is my Shepherd — that’s relationship! I shall not be in want — that’s supply! He makes me lie down in green pastures — that’s rest! He leads me beside quiet waters — that’s refreshment! He restores my soul — that’s healing! He guides me in the paths of righteousness — that’s guidance! For His name’s sake — that’s purpose! Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death —that’s testing! I will fear no evil — that’s protection! For you are with me — that’s faithfulness! Your rod and the staff, they comfort me — that’s discipline! You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies —that’s hope! You anoint my head with oil — that’s consecration! My cup overflows — that’s abundance! Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life —that’s blessing! And I will dwell in the house of the Lord — that’s security! Forever — that’s eternity!
Ravi Zacharias (The Grand Weaver: How God Shapes Us Through the Events of Our Lives)
I will have you for husband tonight,” she said in fierce, low tones, “or I will not go until I do!” “If there was any way, I would,” he protested. “Daise Congar would crack my head if I wanted to go against custom. For the love of the Light, Faile, just carry the message, and I’ll wed you the very first day I can.” He would. If that day ever came. Suddenly she was very intent on his beard, smoothing it and not meeting his eyes. She started speaking slowly but picked up speed like a runaway horse. “I … just happened to mention … in passing … I just mentioned to Mistress al’Vere how we had been traveling together—I don’t know how it came up—and she said—and Mistress Congar agreed with her—not that I talked to everybody!—she said that we probably—certainly—could be considered betrothed already under your customs, and the year is just to make sure you really do get on well together—which we do, as anyone can see—and here I am being as forward as some Domani hussy or one of those Tairen galls—if you ever even think of Berelain—oh, Light, I’m babbling, and you won’t even—” He cut her off by kissing her as thoroughly as he knew how. “Will you marry me?” he said breathlessly when he was done. “Tonight?” He must have done ever better with the kiss than he thought; he had to repeat himself six times, with her giggling against his throat and demanding he say it again, before she seemed to understand. Which was how he found himself not half an hour later kneeling opposite her in the common room, in front of Daise Congar and Marin al’Vere, Alsbet Luhhan and Neysa Ayellin and all the Women’s Circle. Loial had been roused to stand for him with Aram, and Bain and Chiad stood for Faile. There were no flowers to put in her hair or his, but Bain, guided by Marin, tucked a long red wedding ribbon around his neck, and Loial threaded another through Faile’s dark hair, his thick fingers surprisingly deft and gentle. Perrin’s hands trembled as he cupped hers. “I, Perrin Aybara, do pledge you my love, Faile Bashere, for as long as I live.” For as long as I live and after. “What I possess in this world I give to you.” A horse, an axe, a bow. A hammer. Not much to gift a bride. I give you life, my love. It’s all I have. “I will keep and hold you, succor and tend you, protect and shelter you, for all the days of my life.” I can’t keep you; the only way I can protect you is to send you away. “I am yours, always and forever.” By the time he finished, his hands were shaking visibly. Faile moved her hands to hold his. “I, Zarine Bashere …” That was a surprise; she hated that name. “ … do pledge you my love, Perrin Aybara … .” Her hands never trembled at all.
Robert Jordan (The Shadow Rising (The Wheel of Time, #4))
How many of us are dead because of their potential unleashed? Your calorie masters showed us what happens. People die." "Everyone dies." The doctor waves a dismissal. "But you die now because you cling to the past. We should all be windups by now. It's easier to build a person impervious to blister rust than to protect an earlier version of the human creature. A generation from now, we could be well-suited for our new environment. Your children could be the beneficiaries. Yet you people refuse to adapt. You cling to some idea of a humanity that evolved in concert with your environment over millennia, and which you now, perversely, refuse to remain in lockstep with. "Blister rust is our environment. Cibiscosis. Genehack weevil. Cheshires. They have adapted. Quibble as you like about whether they evolved naturally or not. Our environment has changed. If we wish to remain at the top of our food chain, we will evolve. Or we will refuse, and go the way of the dinosaurs and Felis domesticus. Evolve or die. It has always been nature's guiding principle, and yet you white shirts seek to stand in the way of inevitable change." He leans forward. "I want to shake you sometimes. If you would just let me, I could be your god and shape you to the Eden that beckons us." "I'm Buddhist." "And we all know windups have no souls." Gibbons grins. "No rebirth for them. They will have to find their own gods to protect them. Their own gods to pray for their dead." His grin widens. "Perhaps I will be that one, and your windup children will pray to me for salvation." His eyes twinkle. "I would like a few more worshippers, I must admit. Jaidee was like you. Always such a doubter. Not as bad as Grahamites, but still, not particularly satisfactory for a god." Kanya makes a face. "When you die, we will burn you to ash and bury you in chlorine and lye and no one will remember you." The doctor shrugs, unconcerned. "All gods must suffer.
Paolo Bacigalupi (The Windup Girl)
Feminist “theory,” as it is grandiloquently called, is simply whatever the women in the movement come up with in post facto justification of their attitudes and emotions. A heavy focus on feminist doctrine seems to me symptomatic of the rationalist fallacy: the assumption that people are motivated primarily by beliefs. If they were, the best way to combat an armed doctrine would indeed be to demonstrate that its beliefs are false. (…) A feminist in the strict and proper sense may be defined as a woman who envies the male role. By the male role I mean, in the first place, providing, protecting, and guiding rather than nurturing and assisting. This in turn envolves relative independence, action, and competition in the larger impersonal society outside the family, the use of language for communication and analysis (rather than expressiveness or emotional manipulation), and deliberate behavior aiming at objective achievement (rather than the attainment of pleasant subjective states) and guided by practical reasoning (rather than emotional impulse). Both feminist and nonfeminist women sense that these characteristically male attributes have a natural primacy over their own. I prefer to speak of“primacy” rather than superiority in this context since both sets of traits are necessary to propagate the race. One sign of male primacy is that envy of the female role by men is virtually nonexistent — even, so far as I know, among homosexuals. Normal women are attracted to male traits and wish to partner with a man who possesses them. (…) The feminists’ response to the primacy of male traits, on the other hand, is a feeling of inadequacy in regard to men—a feeling ill-disguised by defensive assertions of her “equality.”She desires to possess masculinity directly, in her own person, rather than partnering with a man. That is what leads her into the spiritual cul de sac of envy. And perhaps even more than she envies the male role itself, the feminist covets the external rewards attached to its successful performance: social status, recognition, power, wealth, and the chance to control wealth directly (rather than be supported).
F. Roger Devlin (Sexual Utopia in Power: The Feminist Revolt Against Civilization)
MARCH 30 I WILL GUIDE YOU CONTINUALLY I WILL BE your hiding place, and I will protect you from trouble. I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with My loving eye on you. I will always guide you and provide good things to eat when you are in the desert. I will make you healthy. You will be like a garden that has plenty of water or like a stream that never runs dry. I will clear a path in your desert and will make a straight road for you to follow. I am able to fill in every valley you face and to flatten every hill and mountain that seem to hinder your way. I will level the rough and rugged ground so that all may see that My glory surrounds your path. PSALM 32:7–8; ISAIAH 58:11; ISAIAH 40:1–4 Prayer Declaration Father, guide me continually with Your eye. Guide me by the skillfulness of Your hands. Lead me in a plain path because of my enemies. Make the crooked places straight and the rough places smooth before me. Send out Your light and truth, and let them lead me. Teach me to do Your will, and lead me into the land of uprightness.
John Eckhardt (Daily Declarations for Spiritual Warfare: Biblical Principles to Defeat the Devil)
As I look back on my life, I can reflect on those times when I allowed myself to be held back by what others said to me...at one point in my life, I felt intimidated by some people. As I stand now...I don't allow intimidation...I have come to realize in my life that I have CHOICE as to how my life will go...God and I are the writers and I dare not give anyone else a pen to write their version of how it should go. I remember as a child, as I lay asleep before waking in the morning, I would hear a voice within me gently asking me, "Are you ready to start this day?! It's time to get up!!" No, it wasn't anyone trying to wake me, but I felt it was a heavenly presence. As I grew up, that same presence was with me...like a guardian angel I guess you can say...Something...someone was always there with me. I thank God for this journey I've been on...I've been allowed to live and experience so much more than most. I've been allowed to make mistakes and learn from them. I thank God for having that presence in my life...protecting me and guiding me like a compass, as I make my way Home.
Summerlyn Guthrie
Shouyou: I'd like to ask you something, too. What is a samurai? Would you tell me? Takasugi: Aren't you a samurai? Shouyou: Well... At the very least, I'm not the kind of samurai you know. Do you think there are qualifications to become a samurai? Do you believe that without a family to protect, or a lord to serve, one cannot become a samurai? I don't think so. Bushido is the will to discipline one's weak self in order to reach one's stronger self. It refers to the act of devoting oneself to one's ideals. So both they, who study diligently and try to become better human beings, and you, who came here as a dojo challenger to grow stronger, are already samurai in my eyes. Even if your births and backgrounds are unknown, and you don't have a master to serve or a sword to fight with, you can each flaunt your own brand of bushido and become your own samurai. Guiding as many of those samurai as possible might just be my brand of bushido. You ended up here after losing your way, too, didn't you? I am the same. I am still lost. But that's all right. Doubt yourself, lose yourself and become the kind of samurai you want to be.
Hideaki Sorachi
POEM – MY AMAZING TRAVELS [My composition in my book Travel Memoirs with Pictures] My very first trip I still cannot believe Was planned and executed with such great ease. My father, an Inspector of Schools, was such a strict man, He gave in to my wishes when I told him of the plan. I got my first long vacation while working as a banker One of my co-workers wanted a travelling partner. She visited my father and discussed the matter Arrangements were made without any flutter. We travelled to New York, Toronto, London, and Germany, In each of those places, there was somebody, To guide and protect us and to take us wonderful places, It was a dream come true at our young ages. We even visited Holland, which was across the Border. To drive across from Germany was quite in order. Memories of great times continue to linger, I thank God for an understanding father. That trip in 1968 was the beginning of much more, I visited many countries afterward I am still in awe. Barbados, Tobago, St. Maarten, and Buffalo, Cirencester in the United Kingdom, Miami, and Orlando. I was accompanied by my husband on many trips. Sisters, nieces, children, grandchildren, and friends, travelled with me a bit. Puerto Rico, Los Angeles, New York, and Hialeah, Curacao, Caracas, Margarita, Virginia, and Anguilla. We sailed aboard the Creole Queen On the Mississippi in New Orleans We traversed the Rockies in Colorado And walked the streets in Cozumel, Mexico. We were thrilled to visit the Vatican in Rome, The Trevi Fountain and the Colosseum. To explore the countryside in Florence, And to sail on a Gondola in Venice. My fridge is decorated with magnets Souvenirs of all my visits London, Madrid, Bahamas, Coco Cay, Barcelona. And the Leaning Tower of Pisa How can I forget the Spanish Steps in Rome? Stratford upon Avon, where Shakespeare was born. CN Tower in Toronto so very high I thought the elevator would take me to the sky. Then there was El Poble and Toledo Noted for Spanish Gold We travelled on the Euro star. The scenery was beautiful to behold! I must not omit Cartagena in Columbia, Anaheim, Las Vegas, and Catalina, Key West, Tampa, Fort Lauderdale, and Pembroke Pines, Places I love to lime. Of course, I would like to make special mention, Of two exciting cruises with Royal Caribbean. Majesty of the Seas and Liberty of the Seas Two ships which grace the Seas. Last but not least and best of all We visited Paris in the fall. Cologne, Dusseldorf, and Berlin Amazing places, which made my head, spin. [email protected]
Brenda C. Mohammed (Travel Memoirs with Pictures)
The Mother’s Prayer for Its Daughter First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither the Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty. When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer. Guide her, protect her When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age. Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit. May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers. Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For Childhood is short—a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day— And Adulthood is long and Dry-Humping in Cars will wait. O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed. And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it. And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes. Amen
Tina Fey (Bossypants)
Wondering how I would make it through a hand-to-hand duel, I glanced around--and just then I saw one of Galdran’s equerries fall from his saddle, his banner-spear spinning through the air toward me. Instinctively my free hand reached up and I caught the spear by the shaft. Ignoring the sting in my hand, I jammed my sword into its sheath and started whirling the spear round and round, making the banner snap and stream as my prancing, sidling horse circled round my brother. Horses turned their heads and backed away; no one was able to edge up and get in a good blow at Bran, who swayed in his saddle, his bad arm hanging limp. The warriors fell back, and no one swung at me. Dimly I became aware of an ugly, harsh voice shouting over the crash and thuds of battle. Keeping the banner whirling, I guided my horse with my knees and risked a glance back over my shoulder--and looked straight into Galdran’s rage-darkened face. He said something, spittle flying from his mouth, as he pointed straight at me. A moment later a flicker of movement on my immediate left caused me to glance round. Shevraeth was there, next to me. “Fall back,” he ordered, his voice sharp. “No. Got to protect Bran--” There was no time for more. The Marquis was beset by furious attackers as the King shouted orders from a short distance away. Then more riders appeared from somewhere, and for a moment everything was too chaotic to follow. I found myself suddenly on the edge of the battle; there were too many fighters on both sides between my brother and me. Too many fighters in the liveries of the Baron and the King. Despair burned through me, cold as winter ice. We were losing. Then my horse plunged aside, I shifted in the saddle, and I found myself face-to-face with Galdran. He glared at me with hatred; I had this sudden, strange feeling that if we had both been small children facing each other in a village squabble he would have screamed at me, It’s all your fault! His lips drew back from his teeth. “You, I will kill myself,” he snarled, and he raised his great, flat-bladed sword. I cast away the flimsy spear and drew my sword just a scarce moment before Galdran struck. The first blow nearly knocked me out off the horse. I parried it--just barely--pain shooting up my arm into my back. My arm was numb, so I used both hands to raise my blade against the expected next blow. But as Galdran’s sword came down toward my head, it was met by a ringing strike that sent sparks arcing through the air. I looked--saw the Marquis, hair flying, horse dancing, circling round Galdran and forcing his attention away. Then the two were fighting desperately, the King falling back. I watched in fascination until two of the King’s guards rode to Galdran’s aid, and Shevraeth was suddenly fighting against three. It seemed that the Marquis was going to lose, and I realized I couldn’t watch. Remembering my brother I forced my mount round so I could ride to his aid. But when I spotted him in the chaos of lunging horses and crashing weapons, he was staring past my shoulder, his eyes distended. “Meliara!” he yelled, trying to ride toward me. I turned my head, saw the Marquis now fighting against three guards; and once again the King was coming directly at me, sword swinging in a blur. I flung my sword at him and ducked. A blow caught me painfully across the back of my helm, and darkness rushed up to swallow me.
Sherwood Smith (Crown Duel (Crown & Court, #1))
We live in a world where we have to sacrifice our comfort for the sake of others. Where we have to go an extra mile to meet others' needs. Where we have to dig deep in our resources to please others. I have gone out of my comfort zone for some people. Some people have gone out of their comfort zone for me. And I'm grateful. It's life. It's a common thing. There is no right or wrong to this behaviour. We do it because either we want to or that we must. By the way, our self-sacrificing service can be unhealthy to us. Some people burn themselves down trying to keep others warm. Some break their backs trying to carry the whole world. Some break their bones trying to bend backwards for their loved ones. All these sacrifices are, sometimes, not appreciated. Usually we don't thank the people who go out of their comfort zone to make us feel comfortable. Again, although it's not okay, it's a common thing. It's another side of life. To be fair, we must get in touch with our humanity and show gratitude for these sacrifices. We owe it to so many people. And sometimes we don't even realise it. Thanks be to God for forgiving our sins — which we repeat. Thanks to our world leaders and the activists for the work that they do to make our economic life better. Thanks to our teachers, lecturers, mentors, and role models for shaping our lives. Thanks to our parents for their continual sacrifices. Thanks to our friends for their solid support. Thanks to our children, nephews, and nieces. They allow us to practise discipline and leadership on them. Thanks to the doctors and nurses who save our lives daily. Thanks to safety professionals and legal representatives. They protect us and our possessions. Thanks to our church leaders, spiritual gurus and guides, and meditation partners. They shape our spiritual lives. Thanks to musicians, actors, writers, poets, and sportspeople for their entertainment. Thanks to everyone who contributes in a positive way to our society. Whether recognised or not. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you!
Mitta Xinindlu
I bind to myself today The strong virtue of the Invocation of the Trinity: I believe the Trinity in the Unity The Creator of the Universe. I bind to myself today The virtue of the Incarnation of Christ with His Baptism, The virtue of His crucifixion with His burial, The virtue of His Resurrection with His Ascension, The virtue of His coming on the Judgement Day. I bind to myself today The virtue of the love of seraphim, In the obedience of angels, In the hope of resurrection unto reward, In prayers of Patriarchs, In predictions of Prophets, In preaching of Apostles, In faith of Confessors, In purity of holy Virgins, In deeds of righteous men. I bind to myself today The power of Heaven, The light of the sun, The brightness of the moon, The splendour of fire, The flashing of lightning, The swiftness of wind, The depth of sea, The stability of earth, The compactness of rocks. I bind to myself today God's Power to guide me, God's Might to uphold me, God's Wisdom to teach me, God's Eye to watch over me, God's Ear to hear me, God's Word to give me speech, God's Hand to guide me, God's Way to lie before me, God's Shield to shelter me, God's Host to secure me, Against the snares of demons, Against the seductions of vices, Against the lusts of nature, Against everyone who meditates injury to me, Whether far or near, Whether few or with many. I invoke today all these virtues Against every hostile merciless power Which may assail my body and my soul, Against the incantations of false prophets, Against the black laws of heathenism, Against the false laws of heresy, Against the deceits of idolatry, Against the spells of women, and smiths, and druids, Against every knowledge that binds the soul of man. Christ, protect me today Against every poison, against burning, Against drowning, against death-wound, That I may receive abundant reward. Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ at my right, Christ at my left, Christ in the fort, Christ in the chariot seat, Christ in the poop, Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me, Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks to me, Christ in every eye that sees me, Christ in every ear that hears me. I bind to myself today The strong virtue of an invocation of the Trinity, I believe the Trinity in the Unity The Creator of the Universe.
H.W. Crocker III (Triumph: The Power and the Glory of the Catholic Church)
Oh, blast, this is all so confusing!” she complained. “How is a woman supposed to figure out what a man really wants?” “If you learn the answer to that question, do be a dear and tell the rest of us,” Minerva quipped. “Though as far as I can tell, men are simple creatures, for all their posturing. They want food, drink, and a wench to bed, not necessarily in that order.” “And love?” Celia asked. Minerva smiled. “That, too. Some men do, anyway. You’ll just have to spend some time with Mr. Pinter and find out if that’s what he wants from you.” “And how on earth am I supposed to spend time with him when he’s been avoiding me ever since the last time we kissed?” “Perhaps he’s worried about the difference in your stations.” “That didn’t keep him from kissing me.” She scowled. “Besides, you’ve heard what he says about our sort. If anything, he thinks himself above us, not below us. He didn’t even ask me to dance tonight! He could have. No one would have thought anything of that. Instead, he spent the entire ball standing about, looking disappointed, and talking to servants.” “Perhaps because you spent the entire ball in the company of your suitors.” Celia released an exasperated breath. “What else was I supposed to do? I’m not allowed to ask a man to dance. And at least I know what my suitors want. Lord Devonmont wants to seduce me, the viscount wants peace in his old age, and the duke wants to marry me. I don’t have any idea what Jackson wants, other than to drive me mad.” And to make her want him. She’d spent half the evening remembering his sweet kisses that afternoon and his fierce words about desiring her. Had any of it been feigned? It was hard to know. Still, even tonight she’d caught him gazing at her with such hunger… A rush of heat through her body made her bite back an oath. “There’s still a couple of days left until the house party is over” Minerva pointed out. “Why don’t you just see how matters progress? Tell the duke you need time to consider his offer, and use that time to try to figure out what’s going on with Mr. Pinter.” “In other words, ‘let his behavior be the guide of your sensations.’” Minerva scowled. “Have you been reading Jane Austen?” Oops. She’d forgotten that she’d read the line in Emma. “Don’t get me wrong-she’s a good choice,” Minerva said tartly. “And I suppose that is good advice. Though I’d also advise you to decide what it is you want from him. Marriage?” “I don’t know. That’s the trouble.” But an hour later, after Minerva had left and Celia was lying alone in her bed, she realized that she did know one thing she wanted from him. More time alone together. More chances to see how she felt, and if it was real or just borne of some madness of the moment. Only now did she realize how much she’d been protecting herself from feeling anything for a man. But whenever she was with him, she didn’t want to protect herself. He made her want to feel. She fell asleep, dreaming of Jackson’s mouth on hers, his hands on her body.
Sabrina Jeffries (A Lady Never Surrenders (Hellions of Halstead Hall, #5))
Lord, today I want to thank You for your story. Thank You for doing the will of Your Father that we can be free of sin for Your sacrifice. Help me to understand Your life here on earth in a deeper way so that I may truly realize my sins are forgiven by Your grace. Wash me clean as snow. Make me a new creation that testifies to Your glory. Forgive me for focusing on me and my gains to the point I walk away from You. Forgive me in those times where the darkness settles in and I resort to anger, jealousy, and all the other emotions that pull me further from You. By Your story Lord give me strength to forgive all who have sinned against me. Help me to be slow to anger over anyone who offends me. Show me how You prayed to Your Father to forgive those who were crucifying You for not knowing what they were doing. Cast any hold the enemy has on me into the fire pit and let NOTHING separate me from Your love and grace. Hear my prayers Lord and give me a hedge of protection Lord. Loosen all the Godly angels to watch over me Lord. I ask that You go before me today Lord. Guide my thoughts and steps in Jesus name, amen.
Glenn Langohr (Powerful Prayers of Gratitude to Bring You Closer to God: A 30-Day Prayer Guide)
But now I fear the walls may be breached, the shell cracked.  Our family is cracking, fear and anxiety haunt our dreams, unanswered questions hover on our lips.  How will we stay strong, stay together? I have been here before, suffered through this once already – and this is a suffering too much for one man to bear.  And so my failures haunt me. I can see their eyes at night, shining in the darkness, accusing me of my greatest failure, failure to protect those that I love.  What more damning accusation can there be?  How can I sleep not knowing where my darlings are, that they are gone because of me, that in their hour of need I was not there?  But now I must again head out into the wicked world to find another, guide them to our home, welcome them to the bosom of our family.
Casey Hill (Hidden (CSI Reilly Steel, #3))
How I boil at oft hearing “God loves ME,” “God protects ME,” “God guides ME,” “God heals ME,” as if God’s not for “US” everybody, but only for someone special like “ME.” Even in faith, man is so self-seeking; making God run around at his bidding. But when it’s God’s turn now to be asking, hardly could you see man there listening.
Rodolfo Martin Vitangcol
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lost love spells
A legacy is worth protecting.
Kim Vogel Sawyer (Guide Me Home)
All too often we pray safe prayers: God bless me. God help me. God protect me. God heal me. God provide for me.
Gary Rohrmayer (21 Dangerous Prayers: 21 Day Transformational Prayer Guide (21 Days of Prayer, #1))
I have always been confident and see gain in failure. I know I will make good of this situation eventually. God I will stand by my promise I made to you on March 20th. Please guide and protect me and my kids through this difficult time. Obviously the Christian groups attempting to obtain The Palace wasn’t in God’s Favor. If they were in God’s favor. The deal would have gone through. The devil is alive in Branson and this is why the Lord has contacted me and others with an attempt to rid this villain and stand up to his hate that is front center in Branson, Missouri. The Grand Palace obviously has demons that are rooted inside it’s walls and maybe a exorcism needs to be performed at The Palace to rid those devils from her walls. I realize this sounds crazy. But somehow every time something good is going to happen with The Grand Palace, A negative occurrence finds it’s way to surface. I could very easily turn and walk away now. I cannot. I could very easily turn on God now and join the Devil’s army. I cannot. I will stay strong and fight the good fight. Figure out a way to defeat the FDIC and all the hate that has been thrown at me. I will say now very confidently, ‘God Bless Us All.
Paul M. Dunn (The Grand Palace Battleground Branson Missouri)
For example, in the middle of a conversation, if I ask the other person something about what they’ve just said, and I am met with “That’s a stupid question,” I hear them expressing a need in the form of a judgment of me. I proceed to guess what that need might be—maybe the question I asked did not fulfill their need to be understood. Or if I ask my partner to talk about the stress in our relationship and they answer, “I don’t want to talk about it,” I may sense that their need is for protection from what they imagine could happen if we were to communicate about our relationship. So this is our work: learning to recognize the need in statements that don’t overtly express any need.
Marshall B. Rosenberg (Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life: Life-Changing Tools for Healthy Relationships (Nonviolent Communication Guides))
Being a vessel of God Almighty, I am divinely guided and protected wherever I am and whatever I am doing, the glory of the Lord God Almighty is always with me.
Stellah Mupanduki (The Moulding of the Holy Spirit of God)
Buffy: “I was just thinking, wouldn’t it be funny to see each other sometime when it wasn’t a blood thing? Not funny ha ha.” Angel: “What are you saying, you want to have a date?” Buffy: “No—” Angel: “You don’t want to have a date?” Buffy: “Who said ‘date’? I never said ‘date.’” Angel: “Right. You just want to have coffee or something.” Buffy: “Coffee?” Angel: “I knew this would happen.” Buffy: “Really? And what do you think is happening?” Angel: “You’re sixteen years old, I’m 241.” Buffy: “I’ve done the math.” Angel: “You don’t know what you’re doing, you don’t know what you want.” Buffy: “Oh, I think I do: I want out of this conversation.” Angel: “Listen. If we date, you and I both know one thing’s going to lead to another.” Buffy: “One thing’s already led to another. It’s a little late to be reading me the warning label.” Angel: “I’m just trying to protect you. This could get out of control.” Buffy: “Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?” Angel: “This isn’t some fairy tale; when I kiss you, you don’t wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after.” Buffy: “No. When you kiss me, I want to die.” —“REPTILE BOY”
Christopher Golden (Buffy the Vampire Slayer: The Watcher's Guide, Volume 1)
I can try to protect my children, to help and guide them, and I can love them, but I cannot save them. Nic, Jasper, and Daisy will live, and someday they will die, with or without me.
David Sheff (Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction)
In the infinity of life where I am, all is perfect, whole, and complete. I am always Divinely protected and guided. It is safe for me to look within myself. It is safe for me to look into the past. It is safe for me to enlarge my viewpoint of life. I am far more than my personalitypast, present, or future. I now choose to rise above my personality problems to recognize the magnificence of my being. I am totally willing to learn to love myself. All is well in my world.
Louise L. Hay (You Can Heal Your Life)
God’s purpose for my life resided not so much in what I did as in how I did it. It didn’t matter whether God gave me a large role or a tiny one; I could still have impact if I could learn to do one thing—to love people in whatever circumstance I found myself. Why? Because love lasts. Because love never fails. Because love does not envy, and it never boasts. It is neither proud nor rude. Love is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes. Love never gives up. God is love. Love, in fact, is the hardest, most powerful thing in the world. Whether driving a child to school, leading a church, cleaning a bathroom, heading up a multinational corporation, or washing feet, love is the secret to making a lasting impact.
Ann Spangler (Praying the Names of Jesus: A Daily Guide)
firmly by the shoulders. Jon says, ‘How the hell did you ever get keys for this place?’ I chuckle, though there is really nothing to laugh about. It is the irony, I suppose. ‘The first summer I was here, I landed one day to find that the Lighthouse Board had sent in decorators to paint the place. Everything was opened up. The guys were okay with me taking a look around and we got chatting. The forecast was good, and they expected to be here for a few days. So I spun them the story about writing a book and said I would probably be back tomorrow. And I was. Only this time with a pack of Blu-tack. When they were having their lunch, I took the keys from the inner and outer doors and made impressions. Dead simple. Had keys cut, and access to the place whenever I wanted thereafter.’ The final panel falls away in my hands, and I reach in to retrieve a black plastic bag. I hand it up to Jon, and he peels back the plastic to look inside. As I stand up, I lift one of the wooden panels. I know that this is the one chance I will get, while he is distracted, and I swing the panel at his head as hard as I can. The force with which it hits him sends a judder back up my arms to my shoulders, and I actually hear it snap. He falls to his knees, dropping the hard drive, and his gun skids away across the floor. Sally is so startled, she barely has time to move before I punch her hard in the face. I feel teeth breaking beneath the force of my knuckles, behind lips I once kissed with tenderness and lust. Blood bubbles at her mouth. I grab Karen by the arm and hustle her fast down the corridor, kicking open the door and dragging her out into the night. The storm hits us with a force that assails all the senses. The wind is deafening, driving stinging rain horizontally into our faces. The cold wraps icy fingers around us, instantly numbing. Beyond the protection of the walls, it is worse, and I find it nearly impossible to keep my feet as I pull my daughter off into the dark. Only the relentless turning of the lamp in the light room above us provides any illumination. We turn right, and I know that almost immediately the island drops away into a chasm that must be two or three hundred feet deep. I can hear the ocean rushing into it. Snarling, snapping at the rocks below and sending an amplified roar almost straight up into the air. I guide Karen away from it, half-dragging her, until we reach a small cluster of rocks and I push her flat into the ground behind them. I tear away the tape that binds her wrists, then roll her on to her back to peel away the strip of it over her mouth. She gasps, almost choking, and I feel her body next to mine, racked by sobs, as she
Peter May (Coffin Road)
And indeed we must seek the true rule of prayer in the word of God, that we may not rashly break through to Him, but may approach him in the manner in which he has revealed himself to us. This appears more clearly from the adjoining context, where Jacob, recalling the command and promise of God to memory, is supported as by two pillars. Certainly the legitimate method of praying is, that the faithful should answer to God who calls them; and thus there is such a mutual agreement between his word and their vows, that no sweeter and more harmonious symphony can be imagined. “O Lord,” he says, “I return at thy command: thou also didst promise protection to me returning; it is therefore right that thou shouldest become the guide of my journey.” This is a holy boldness, when, having discharged our duty according to God’s calling, we familiarly ask of him whatsoever he has promised; since he, by binding himself gratuitously to us, becomes in a sense voluntarily our debtor. But whoever, relying on no command or promise of God, offers his prayers, does nothing but cast vain and empty words into the air.
John Calvin (Commentaries, 23 Vols)
Bring her back, Mikhail. Go after her. Guide her back. This is too dangerous for her. Even with my connection to her, she is trapped,” Gregori said. “We are dealing with more than just any vampire. This one is skilled in the black arts and the use of herbs and power stones. I know what he has done and how he is doing it.” Mikhail pulled Raven tightly against him, his black eyes hard with mental strain. Raven blinked, looked around her, seemed surprised to find herself in the rain. Her hand went to her temple in a gesture of pain. “Stop staring at me. I feel like some kind of freak show.” She sounded hurt, hid her face on Mikhail’s chest. His arms circled her, drew her into the shelter of his body, his head bent lovingly toward hers. It was such an intimate gesture, Shea had to turn away. To her dismay, she found the healer studying her. Shea moved closer to Jacques, unconsciously seeking protection from the scrutiny. “You need nourishment.” The healer spoke gently. “When I’m hungry, I’ll eat,” Shea told him haughtily. “You don’t need to worry about all of us. I know how to care for myself.” The silvery eyes slashed through the lie. “Your hunger radiates from you, and your weakness could place all of us in jeopardy.” He turned his powerful stare on Raven. Raven squirmed visibly. “Oh, shut up, Gregori,” she snapped, her blue eyes flashing fire at him. A faint smile curved his mouth, failing to light his eyes. “I did not speak.” “You spoke volumes, and you know it.” Her chin went up belligerently. “Your male sense of superiority is enough to make a woman want to scream. Honestly, Gregori, all that cold logic makes a person crazy.” She allowed Mikhail to lead her onto the porch. “Logic works, unlike emotional women,” Gregori returned unruffled. “Your first duty is to protect your child. Our first duty must be to protect you.” His silver gaze clearly censured Mikhail.
Christine Feehan (Dark Desire (Dark, #2))
I wanted your experience of Court to be as easy as possible. Your brother just shrugged off the initial barbs and affronts, but I knew they’d slay you. We did our best to protect you from them, though your handling of the situation with Tamara showed us that you were very capable of directing your own affairs.” “What about Elenet?” I asked, and winced, hating to sound like the kind of jealous person I admired least. But the image of that goldenwood throne had entered my mind and would not be banished. He looked slightly surprised. “What about her?” “People--some people--put your names together. And,” I added firmly, “she’d make a good queen. Better than I.” He lifted his cup, and I saw my ring gleaming on his finger. He’d worn that since he left Bran and Nee’s ball. He’d been wearing it, I thought, when we sat in this very inn and he went through that terrible inner debate on whether or not I was a traitor. I dropped my head and stared into my cup. “Elenet,” he said, “is an old friend. We grew up together and regard one another as brother and sister, a comfortable arrangement since neither of us had siblings.” I thought of that glance she’d given him when I spied on them in the Royal Wing courtyard. She had betrayed feelings that were not sisterly. But he hadn’t seen that look because his heart lay otherwhere. I pressed my lips together. She was worthy, but her love was not returned. Suddenly I understood why she had been so guarded around me. The honorable course for me would be to keep to myself what I had seen. Shevraeth continued, “She spent her time with me as a mute warning to the Merindars, who had to know that she came to report on Grumareth’s activities, and I didn’t want them trying any kind of retaliation. She realized that our social proximity would cause gossip. That was inevitable. But she heeded it not; she just wants to return to Grumareth and resume guiding her lands to prosperity again.” He paused, then said, “As for her quality, it is undeniable. But I think the time has come for a different perspective, one that is innate in you. It is a problem, I have come to realize, with our Court upbringing. No one, including Elenet, has the gift you have of looking every person you encounter in the face and accepting the person behind the status. We all were raised to see servants and merchants as faceless as we pursued the high strategy. I’m half convinced this is part of the reason why the kingdom ended up in the grip of the likes of the Merindars.” I nodded, and for the first time comprehended what a relationship with him really meant for the rest of my life. “The goldenwood throne,” I said. “In the letter. I thought you had it ordered for, well, someone else.” His smile was gone. “It doesn’t yet exist. How could it? Though I intend for there to be one, for the duties of ruling have to begin as a partnership. Until the other night, I had no idea if I would win you or not.” “Win me,” I repeated. “What a contest!
Sherwood Smith (Court Duel (Crown & Court, #2))
The goal, or at least my goal, is for each person I work with to understand that because of their authority in the Lord Jesus Christ, they no longer need me or anyone else to guide them through this process. The same God who lives in me lives in them, and He is more than willing to protect His children. I have watched passive, fearful, defeated Christians become bold soldiers who learn to quickly resist the devil rather than to entertain his accusations, play his games, or run. It’s a joy to lock arms with brothers and sisters in Christ who realize we are more than conquerors who don’t have to run from a defeated enemy.
Karl I. Payne (Spiritual Warfare: Christians, Demonization and Deliverance)
Words control the impulses; without them children have no protective devices to slow their reactions. Frequently I am asked, “Aren’t you just begging for a blowup when you talk about intensity with kids? Aren’t you feeding them ideas or creating words for feelings that don’t really exist?” My experience, observations, and interviews tell me that spirited children feel intensely whether anyone has talked to them about it or not. Ignoring it does not make it go away. Ask children what is happening inside their bodies, and they will tell you that they can feel their blood buzzing in their veins or hornets zipping through their body. If no one has informed them that other people experience these feelings or if no one has helped them by giving names to these feelings—like anxiety, frustration, excitement, and elation—they become frightened by them. Some worry that they are sick. Some feel odd, others lost and overwhelmed. Talking verifies the sensations and emotions. It gives them legitimacy and allows the child to own them without being frightened. It also helps kids to know what to do with them, how to react, and how to manage their intensity. Most
Mary Sheedy Kurcinka (Raising Your Spirited Child: A Guide for Parents Whose Child is More Intense, Sensitive, Perceptive, Persistent, and Energetic)
Get divine protection for you and your family…Buy the Stellah Mupanduki books breathed by the Holy Spirit of a Sovereign God for your healing, cleansing and protection. When you have these anointed books written by the finger of God using a mortal vessel, no disaster will come into your life for God Almighty will be with you all the time, guiding you and protecting you and your whole family….Sent the spirit of death, curses and all evil away from you and your home and family…When you see multiple family members being wiped out at the same time in road accidents, water accidents, mass shootings, fire disasters, generational diseases, bloodline diseases and all unforeseeable disasters, you have to think Jesus Christ, you have to seek his face, you have to be at the throne of God Almighty to be covered by the blood of Christ that brought redemption for all people in this world….The Stellah Mupanduki books have everything you need for your protection and healing because these books were given by God himself to you…Fear no evil.
Stellah Mupanduki (For the Sound Mind: Heal Me Lord for I Am Weak)
How can I protect you if you keep secrets from me?” His hands closed over my arms, and he lifted me from my chair. He was halfway to shaking me when the fury glazing his eyes cleared enough for him to recall our surroundings, the company we kept, and he lowered his voice. “You should have told me. I never would have let you—” I lowered mine too as I extricated myself from his hold. “Exactly.
Hailey Edwards (How to Save an Undead Life (The Beginner's Guide to Necromancy, #1))
Angels sleeps in her cell, her room which should be gay with cushions or theatre programmes or comic pottery, but isn't. The distant clocks have been chiming and ringing all night to pass the time. She lies on her stomach, to hide or protect time, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed, her head wrenched sideways. Everything about her now is unformed. Her intelligence has stopped working. She is herself and, as she flounders, flies, sinks from one dream to another, unrecognizable. What does myself look like? I mean, who am I? You are an examination result, dear. Perhaps, in time, a scholarship. Perhaps an Honors Degree. Try harder. But myself - I mean myself? Perhaps you could find yourself in the Guides, or in the New Testament somewhere. If not, we can provide various substitutes, such as Joan of Arc, Florence Nightingale, Nurse Cavell. It's really none of our business, but we do keep a few heroines handy, just in case. But how shall I deal with myself? What shall I do with myself all my life? You may look in the answer book. You must control yourself, discipline yourself, sacrifice yourself, respect yourself. If necessary you may defend yourself and able yourself, and to have confidence in yourself while effacing yourself is not entirely bad. You must never, however, love yourself or pity yourself, praise yourself or allow yourself to have either will or opinion. Never indulge yourself, never be conscious of yourself, never forget yourself and above all, never be centered in yourself. We hope this is understood? But if there is no one else to love, pity or praise? If no one else is conscious of me, remembers me, if I am no one's centre? That, dear, is what God is for. As Our Lord says, "Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings and not one of them is forgotten before God?" To forget yourself in one sense is desirable, whereas, as we have said, to forget yourself in another sense is not. Now if we rewrite those subjoined sentences, strengthening them by omission of caveats, trite quotations, indirect assertions and vulgarisms everything, we feel certain, will seem a great deal clearer; or, alternatively, more clear. She twists her head, hitting the mattress with a vague, feeble gesture. "But I'll never get there," she says, stating a proved fact. "I'll never get there." The clocks repeat themselves. She turns on her back and, still asleep, rubs her stomach with the unhappy, worried expression of a child who has eaten a sour apple.
Penelope Mortimer
I don't want to be rewarded with a trophy when I don't achieve my goal. I don't want to be protected from that pain. If I get a trophy when I fail, then I'm going to believe that I performed at the peak of my ability. And that may prevent me from getting better. This is basic psychology. Rewarding behavior only regenerates the behavior. Rewarding habitual failure breeds a character of failure. What kind of attitude are we encouraging when we give everyone a trophy? We're encouraging an attitude of self-congratulation that leads to apathy, where accomplishments are meaningless and hard work is beside the point.
Joe De Sena (Spartan Up!: A Take-No-Prisoners Guide to Overcoming Obstacles and Achieving Peak Performance in Life)
Being a vessel of God Almighty, I am divinely guided and protected wherever I am and whatever I am doing, the glory of the Lord God Almighty is always with me. Everything that I write, all that I say and do, is in the holy directive of God Almighty who writes in me and moves and speaks in me for his people, for his everlasting glory and honour… Go for all the Stellah Mupanduki healing books breathed by the Holy Spirit for you because there is a hope and a future for your life in today’s era…If you seek to live a blissful, peaceful, long and healthy life, seek these God-given books…they are above mortality…they overcome all dark spirits of the heavenly realm that causes troubles, illnesses and struggles and death in this land of the living. Seek Jesus Christ and live. Thank you Holy Spirit, you are God and you are good all the the time, may your name be blessed and lifted high above all the time...For Sacred Readers...Sacred Writing...Sacred Healing
Stellah Mupanduki (The Moulding Of the Holy Spirit Of A Sovereign God: Leap My Child)
He’s aware of his surroundings, but he can’t move. Even his mind is locked and still. He is paralyzed somehow.” Raven’s voice startled Shea, brought her back to the stormy weather and their rescue mission. Raven was clearly speaking of Byron. “He can’t move or call out, not even mentally. It is dark and damp, and he knows he will suffer greatly before they are done with him.” Raven swayed, her hands protectively covering her stomach. The healer moved, a blur of speed, catching her arm and wrenching her out into the driving rain. Gregori snagged Mikhail’s shirt, too, and yanked him into the fury of the storm. “Break off now, Raven,” Gregori commanded. He shook her, shook Mikhail. “Let go of him now!” Jacques leapt forward, grabbed his brother, and hit his face, once, twice. “Come back!” It was a hoarse cry. Shea bit her lip, suddenly terrified. The couple seemed somehow bound, caught in the vampire’s trap with Byron. Gregori pulled Raven farther into the driving rain. Jacques pushed Mikhail after them. It was Mikhail who recovered first. He blinked at his brother, looked around him as if unaware where he was. Then, instinctively, he reached for Raven. “Bring her back, Mikhail. Go after her. Guide her back. This is too dangerous for her. Even with my connection to her, she is trapped,” Gregori said. “We are dealing with more than just any vampire. This one is skilled in the black arts and the use of herbs and power stones. I know what he has done and how he is doing it.” Mikhail pulled Raven tightly against him, his black eyes hard with mental strain. Raven blinked, looked around her, seemed surprised to find herself in the rain. Her hand went to her temple in a gesture of pain. “Stop staring at me. I feel like some kind of freak show.” She sounded hurt, hid her face on Mikhail’s chest. His arms circled her, drew her into the shelter of his body, his head bent lovingly toward hers. It was such an intimate gesture, Shea had to turn away.
Christine Feehan (Dark Desire (Dark, #2))
Bring her back, Mikhail. Go after her. Guide her back. This is too dangerous for her. Even with my connection to her, she is trapped,” Gregori said. “We are dealing with more than just any vampire. This one is skilled in the black arts and the use of herbs and power stones. I know what he has done and how he is doing it.” Mikhail pulled Raven tightly against him, his black eyes hard with mental strain. Raven blinked, looked around her, seemed surprised to find herself in the rain. Her hand went to her temple in a gesture of pain. “Stop staring at me. I feel like some kind of freak show.” She sounded hurt, hid her face on Mikhail’s chest. His arms circled her, drew her into the shelter of his body, his head bent lovingly toward hers. It was such an intimate gesture, Shea had to turn away. To her dismay, she found the healer studying her. Shea moved closer to Jacques, unconsciously seeking protection from the scrutiny. “You need nourishment.” The healer spoke gently. “When I’m hungry, I’ll eat,” Shea told him haughtily. “You don’t need to worry about all of us. I know how to care for myself.” The silvery eyes slashed through the lie. “Your hunger radiates from you, and your weakness could place all of us in jeopardy.” He turned his powerful stare on Raven. Raven squirmed visibly. “Oh, shut up, Gregori,” she snapped, her blue eyes flashing fire at him. A faint smile curved his mouth, failing to light his eyes. “I did not speak.” “You spoke volumes, and you know it.” Her chin went up belligerently. “Your male sense of superiority is enough to make a woman want to scream. Honestly, Gregori, all that cold logic makes a person crazy.” She allowed Mikhail to lead her onto the porch. “Logic works, unlike emotional women,” Gregori returned unruffled. “Your first duty is to protect your child. Our first duty must be to protect you.” His silver gaze clearly censured Mikhail. “You don’t know for sure if I’m pregnant.” “Do not play games, Raven. Sometimes your rebellious ways grow tedious. I know you are with child. You cannot hide such a thing from me. Mikhail knows it to be true, and he knows he cannot allow your dangerous involvement in this mission to continue with you in such a condition.
Christine Feehan (Dark Desire (Dark, #2))
The idea that holiness is received, not achieved, shouldn’t come as a shock. Every one of us does the same thing with ordinary objects. Take a toothbrush, for example. It’s an ordinary object that has dozens of potential uses. Yet once you put it in your mouth, you’re protective of anyone else using it for anything else. Or take an ordinary bolt of white linen fabric, fashion it into a garment, drape it on a bride, and it becomes unthinkable to wear it on a morning jog. Why? Because when ordinary objects are sanctified for special service, they become “out of bounds”—or to use biblical terminology, “holy.” Just to ensure we’re on the same page before moving on, let me restate this as clearly as I can: You are holy not because of your performance but because of God’s proclamation. You don’t become holy though religious rites. You don’t develop holiness through sheer discipline. You become holy the millisecond God places his hand on you and says “Mine.
Mark E. Moore (Core 52: A Fifteen-Minute Daily Guide to Build Your Bible IQ in a Year)
My wife and I can't recall how many years we've been married, but we'll never forget our first backpacking trip together. We'd just begun dating and I was her trail-hardened outdoorsman, a knight in shining Cordura, the guy who could handle any wilderness emergency. She was my...well, let's just say I was bent on making a good impression. This was her first backpacking experience and I wanted to have many more with her as my hiking partner. I'd checked and double-checked everything--trail conditions, equipment, weather forecast. I even bought a new stove for the occasion. We set off under overcast skies with packs loaded and spirits high. There was precipitation in the forecast, but it was November and too early for snow, I assured her. (Did I mention that we were just a few miles south of Mount Washington, home to the worst, most unpredictable weather in the Northeast?) As we climbed the few thousand feet up a granite ridge, the trail steadily steepened and we strained a bit under our loads. On top, a gentle breeze pushed a fluffy, light snowfall. The flakes were big and chunky, the kind you chase with your mouth open. Certainly no threat, I told her matter-of-factly. After a few miles, the winds picked up and the snowflakes thickened into a swirling soup. The trail all but dissolved into a wall of white, so I pulled out my compass to locate the three-sided shelter that was to be our base for the night. Eventually we found it, tucked alongside a gurgling freshet. The winds were roaring no, so I pitched our tent inside the shelter for added protection. It was a tight fit, with the tent door only two feet from the log end-wall, but at least we were out of the snowy gale. To ward off the cold and warm my fair belle, I pulled my glittering stove from its pouch, primed it, and confidently christened the burner with a match. She was awestruck by my backwoods wizardry. Color me smug and far too confident. That's when I noticed it: what appeared to be water streaming down the side of the stove. My new cooker's white-gas fuel was bathing the stove base. It was also drenching the tent floor between us and the doorway--the doorway that was zipped tightly shut. A headline flashed through my mind: "Brainless Hikers Toasted in White Mountains." The stove burst into flames that ran up the tent wall. I grabbed a wet sock, clutched the stove base with one hand, and unzipped the tent door with the other. I heaved the hissing fireball through the opening, assuming that was the end of the episode, only to hear a thud as it hit the shelter wall before bouncing back inside to melt some more nylon. My now fairly unimpressed belle grabbed a pack towel and doused the inferno. She breathed a huge sigh of relief, while I swallowed a pound of three of pride. We went on to have a thoroughly disastrous outing. The weather pounded us into submission. A full day of storm later with no letup in sight, we decided to hike out. Fortunately, that slippery, slithery descent down a snowed-up, iced-over trail was merely the end of our first backpacking trip together and not our relationship. --John Viehman
Karen Berger (Hiking & Backpacking A Complete Guide)
Now, using her limited artistic skills, she drew a picture of the earth and colored the ocean blue and the land green. “Who can tell me where we come from?” The assignment had come to Amisha after she and Ravi had a discussion with the boys about karma and the universe’s determination of their place. Jay had asked, in his innocence, what crime Ravi had committed in his previous life to be born an untouchable in this one. Amisha started to scold, but Ravi had assured her it was fine, and yet neither had the answer as to why one was born into his station in life. “God?” one student answered. “Evolution. We came from apes,” another answered. “And how do we live our life?” Amisha saw their confusion and tried to explain. “Once we are born, are we still controlled by the person or event that made us? Are we puppets?” The students shook their heads no. “Then how do we make our decisions?” “Our hearts.” Neema’s answer was tentative, sounding more like a question. Amisha nodded her approval, offering encouragement. “Our gut,” a boy in the front added. “What feels right.” “Our soul?” Amisha asked the boy. At his nod, she said, “Excellent—all of you.” Amisha made sure the class was focused before continuing. “The heart and soul work on emotions. They don’t always stop to think about what is right or wrong, only what they want and need. So where do they get their direction?” “From the brain.” The answer came from the back of the room. “Correct. Our minds guide us toward what is acceptable for us to create, protect, or destroy. And where does the brain get its intellect?” Amisha searched the room for an answer. At first the class was quiet, the children glancing at one another to see if anyone had the answer. Finally, a student near the front answered, “From what we learn or have been taught. By knowledge?” “Excellent. But even with our brains, heart, and soul guiding us, can we do anything we want? Do we have the freedom to make our own choices?” When the class murmured no, she asked, “Why not?” “Our parents,” a student threw out, making everyone laugh. “The Raj,” a girl in the front whispered. “Rules,” Neema said. Thrilled that the students were interested, Amisha said, “I want all of you to write about creating something you want, destroying something you don’t need, and protecting what is vital. But you must explain how your heart, your soul, and your mind feel about each event.
Sejal Badani (The Storyteller's Secret)
None of it was good enough for James Watson. I want my daughter. And then, when we ride out of there, I want that place burning down behind me. You sound like a cowboy, Leander had scoffed, and it was then, as they'd crossed the state line, that they hit on a plan that appealed to the both of them. "Hose thieves," Watson said, with some satisfaction. Araminta coughed in the driver's seat, but offered no commentary. Leander had grown up taking riding lessons; James had insisted he'd worked as a trail guide in college. ("He had not," Watson said, "worked as a trail guide in college.") They'd stopped at a twenty-four-hour Walmart and changed from their formal wear into flannel shirts and Carhartts and hats to hide their faces. They bought bolt cutters, shovels, fertilizer, two long-handled lighters, and three twenty-five-packs of Saturn Missile Extremely Loud Fireworks. They'd paid for it all in cash. After parking the car in the woods, they'd approached the facility on foot. The "school" was protected by a twelve-food-high fence crowned with barbed wire. Luckily, it wasn't electrified; less luckily, it was surrounded a spot close enough to the stables for their purposes. Then James chose a spot a mile farther along, laid down both bags of fertilizer, and started a massive fire. At the same time, Leander cut a hole in the fence big enough for a palomino, ducked through, and set off his pack of fireworks. They sang like missiles into the sky as he made his way to the stables. James Watson went for his daughter. In short order, the school was surrounded by fire engines and police cars.
Brittany Cavallaro (A Question of Holmes (Charlotte Holmes, #4))
In the infinity of life where I am, all is perfect, whole, and complete. I am always Divinely protected and guided. It is safe for me to look within myself. It is safe for me to look into the past. It is safe for me to enlarge my viewpoint of life. I am far more than my personality — past, present, or future. I now choose to rise above my personality problems to recognize the magnificence of my being. I am totally willing to learn to love myself. All is well in my world.
Louise L. Hay (You Can Heal Your Life)
I recall Decimus instructing me while at work that wrong friends will make my heart yearn for sin more than it usually does. Compromises will be easier and wisdom will be replaced with folly. I just figured that they didn’t know him, and therefore were judging him. Plus, I told them that Erebus …was interested in becoming a Christian, and that was the basis of our friendship. My biggest mistake was when I told John that Jesus spent time with sinners far worse than Erebus. ‘Oh foolishness, you forget I was with Jesus when he was in the homes and company of sinners,’ John chided. ‘Jesus did not come to make friends, but to call sinners to repent. Do that long enough and let’s see how many friends you pick up…His visits were hardly a social call…He did not save any lost soul by living like that lost soul…until Erebus sees Christ in you, you are guilty of leading him astray as I’m afraid he is leading you astray...As I see it, friendships are grown when you are all going in the same direction, and can help, encourage and protect all involved. Friendships are not to be reckless, but constructive and purposeful where you are building each other up and improving each other’s character. If this isn’t that inner, guiding principle of all the friends you hold, then in what direction is it actually going, and what good will be derived from it? If friends are not making each other better, then they’re fulfilling the role of our spiritual enemy by tearing down what is good and ruining what had potential……
Rick Lambert
I want you, Leilani. I'm so hard it hurts. But your scent entices me, lures me." He drew the sheet farther down, past her navel, along the soft swell of her stomach. "I want to taste, to savor. Here." He kissed his way to the tender flesh high inside her inner thigh. "And here." He traced a similar path to the other side. "But I want to feast... here." He drew his tongue along the center of her, and groaned at the sweet taste of her. Lani's hips started to pump harder, and he could feel a fine quivering begin along her skin. She rocked and keened, and when he plunged his tongue deeply into her, she cried out, reached down and buried her fingers in his hair. Guiding him, urging him, demanding him, release broke over her in wracking, wrenching waves. "Baxter, please... please." Her hips slowed, but her body continued to gather and jerk as the aftershocks kept twitching through her. "Now," she demanded. "I'm- I'm safe, protected, we don't need-" She broke off as he kissed his way back up the center of her torso while she continued to writhe beneath him. The way she responded to him, making herself vulnerable to him, moved him in unpredictable ways. He shifted so he was directly on top of her and pressed himself between her thighs, which she parted, wrapping them around his hips, digging her heels into his lower back as she lifted for him, and took him in. Take her, he did, sliding all the way in, groaning as she gripped him fully, so tightly, so wetly, so perfectly, it was the fulfillment of every fantasy he'd ever had. Even though his heart was drumming inside his chest, and his body was priming itself for a ferocious release, climaxing wasn't the only thing dominating his thoughts. He met her every hip thrust, echoed every groan, every growl, as they worked their every frenzied way to completion, together. He could feel her climb again as she rolled her hips beneath him, and reality continued to eclipse fantasy. "Come with me, yes," he said, claiming her mouth even as she was nodding in agreement. He pulled her into his arms and moved more deeply, as she instinctively shifted to take him more tightly inside her. They moved with a rhythm that was as old as man's creation, and uniquely and utterly their own.
Donna Kauffman (Sugar Rush (Cupcake Club #1))
And mind you, Muslims would still regard this onslaught as essentially defensive—a defensive action against the aggressions of unbelief. If Muslims must fight until unbelief does not exist, the mere presence of unbelief constitutes sufficient aggression to commence hostilities. This is one of the foundations for the supremacist notion that Muslims must wage war against unbelievers until those unbelievers are either converted to Islam or subjugated under the rule of Islamic law, as verse 9:29 states explicitly. As Muhammad puts it in an Islamic tradition: “I have been commanded to fight against people, till they testify to the fact that there is no god but Allah, and believe in me (that) I am the messenger (from the Lord) and in all that I have brought. And when they do it, their blood and riches are guaranteed protection on my behalf except where it is justified by law, and their affairs rest with Allah.”16 Thus, if one does not accept Muhammad as a prophet, the sanctity of one’s life and possessions (“blood and riches”) is not guaranteed.
Robert Spencer (The Complete Infidel's Guide to the Koran)
The outcome of their battle was a foregone conclusion, and Loretta knew it. His friends encouraged him, whooping with ribald laughter each time her ruffles flashed. She snatched the dirty peace flag from the wooden shaft and threw it to the earth, grinding it beneath the heel of her shoe. After fending off several more passes, exhaustion claimed its victory, and Loretta realized the folly in fighting. She stood motionless, breasts heaving, her eyes staring fixedly at nothing, head lifted. The warrior circled her, guiding his stallion’s flashing hooves so close to her feet that her toes tingled. When she didn’t move, he reined the horse to a halt and studied her for several seconds before he leaned forward to finger the bodice of her dress. Her breath snagged when he slid a palm over her bosom to the indentation of her waist. “Ai-ee,” he whispered. “You learn quick.” Raising tear-filled eyes to his, she again spat in his face. This time he felt the spray and wiped his cheek, his lips quivering with something that looked suspiciously like suppressed laughter, friendly laughter this time. “Maybe not so quick. But I am a good teacher. You will learn not to fight me, Yellow Hair. It is a promise I make for you.” In that moment, what she felt for him went beyond hate, a black, churning ugliness that made her want to seize the lance he brandished and skewer him with it. I claim her. He planned to take her, then? Her gaze traveled from his woven wool belt of army blue to the muscular tracks that rippled in his belly. The hilt of his knife protruded from a leather scabbard on his hip. How many soldiers had he killed? One, a hundred, perhaps a thousand? Her hair hung from his belt, trailing in a spray of gold down the dark leather on his pants. She felt certain she had never seen him before. Yet he had her hair. The Indian down by the river must have given it to him, and he had come from God only knew where to get her. With a start, she noticed the warrior had stretched out a hand to her. A wide leather band encircled his wrist to protect him from his bowstring. Staring at his dark palm and strong fingers, she shook her head in denial. “Hi, tai,” he said in a low voice. Guiding his stallion closer, he bent to touch her chin. Her eyelid quivered when he brushed at a tear on her cheek. “Ka taikay, ka taikay, Tohobt Nabituh,” he whispered. The words made no sense. Puzzled, she met his gaze. “Tosa ehr-mahr.” Raising his hand, he showed her the glistening wetness on his fingertips. “Silver rain, tosa ehr-mahr.” He compared her tears to silver rain? She searched his eyes for some trace of humanity and found none. After a moment he straightened, raising his lance in what looked like a salute. “Suvate!” he yelled, his glittering eyes sweeping the line of encircling riders. A low rumble of answering voices replied, “Suvate!
Catherine Anderson (Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1))
My Daily Mirror Confession 1. I am fearfully and wonderfully made 2. I am unique 3. I am on this planet for a purpose 4. My mind is renewed 5. Positivity is the source of my strength 6. I am walking in the blessings of God 7. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me 8. I am loved by God, I am the apple of His eye 9. The favour of God is upon me 10. I am divinely guided and protected 24/7
Euginia Herlihy
Angels are active and involved in our lives on a regular basis and in amazing ways. They “work” directly for God as messengers, protectors, rescuers, and interceders. There are many types of angels, though none have ever lived on earth the way our guides have (more on them later). They’re Spirit, not physical beings, so they don’t have bodies like we do. I’m told they can take on the appearance of animals or people. There’s an order, or ranking, to the population of angels that include archangels, guardian angels, cherubim, seraphim, basic angels, and others (that’s not the ranking, that’s just a list of angels). I know there are high-ranking angels, or archangels, who have various jobs and missions, and they are above other angels that inspire and intercede for us as well. Pat has regular experiences with Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. Michael, for example, is a protector and adept at performing acts of justice and power. She calls on him for assistance when she has difficult clients or people with something very dark attached to them, like when she worked with a young woman who played with a Ouija board. Pat also tells clients who are fearful to call on Michael when they’re nervous or anxious about something. Gabriel is connected to kindness. Raphael is in charge of healing, so Pat calls on him for her clients since she’s a healer. Spirit tells me that angels are powerful and seriously busy. They offer protection, guidance, deliver messages, encourage us, strengthen us, and help to answer our prayers.
Theresa Caputo (There's More to Life Than This: Healing Messages, Remarkable Stories, and Insight About the Other Side from the Long Island Medium)
Do not let your flesh cover what the spirit is trying to reveal. Your flesh is not the guide. Your flesh is not the winner. Your spirit is your guide. You must allow the spirit in you to guide your decision making. My prayer has been that my heart’s desire would be to only desire what God wants for me and my life. Too often, the enemy and his demons lay distractions before our eyes. Good looks, sex, money, fame and so many more things all look good to our natural eyes. Remember, these things are just temporary and they will fade away. You will be lost forever if you make a relationship decision based upon your flesh being pleased. God will be warning you. Your inner spirit man will be screaming at you to turn the other way. Do not get fooled or tricked into making a commitment because of momentary pleasures.       The spirit of God speaks to you to protect you, not to harm you or make your life as a Christian boring. It is better to deny your flesh from a temporary experience, and embrace the spirit of the Lord that will lead you into eternal joy. You can win the fight!
Marcus Gill (Single God Life: Image Inspiration for the Saved and Single)
For me, radio was a space for reflection. On the air, I submerged myself in music and literature. I listened along with my audience; I read to myself and to them, I discussed all kinds of ideas with total strangers. It was the perfect medium: intense, warm, interactive, and highly volatile. From my very first session in the broadcast studio, I felt like I was in a time capsule, a sensory-deprivation chamber. It was a protective bubble where nothing and no one could touch me. The semidarkness, the illuminated panel, and the on-air light combined to create a cozy, womblike environment, a sort of cosmic solitude. I had the sensation of floating in space, completely isolated from the real world. My only human contact was with the disembodied voices of callers. Everything seemed dusted with an ethereal—yes, I'll say it—ghostly quality. I could touch and hear the whole world, while no one could be sure of my existence; I was just one more voice in the teeming concert of hertzian waves. It was a land of the blind, where we were guided by sounds and voices, and space took the shape our words gave it. We transformed it with every description, comment, insult, or digression. It was almost like death, floating aimlessly at night, listening to spectral voices that in turn spoke about specters, indifferent to their own condition.
Leopoldo Gout (Ghost Radio)
I asked him what he did. He said his name was John Lord and that he was in the software business. “What kind of software?” I asked. He said that his company’s goal was to make “lawyers obsolete” wherever possible by creating software applications that enable individuals to do more and more legal work without the aid of an attorney. Indeed, Neota Logic, his company, says that its goal is to massively improve access to advice and justice for “the 40+% of Americans who can’t afford an attorney when they need one”—in order to produce wills and basic legal documents and even to handle crucial life events such as home foreclosure, domestic abuse, or child protection. Neota Logic is part of a new strain of software called “expert systems” that aims to identify a large chunk of business that clients need, and that lawyers charge for, but that actually can be done by software: think TurboTax for the legal profession. The company’s website quoted one commentator complaining that Neota Logic’s technology cannot “read between the lines … [or] hold hands and wipe away tears.” To which Neota Logic responded: “You will surely see a press release when we can.” Lord later explained to me that “I have always had a special respect for trial lawyers and hope it will be a long time before algorithms replace them and juries.” Alas, he added, that is “not beyond the realm of possibility of course, but not yet Neota’s mission.” Suddenly I was glad my daughters were not planning to be lawyers.
Thomas L. Friedman (Thank You for Being Late: An Optimist's Guide to Thriving in the Age of Accelerations)
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Life-Changing eBooks (Body Language NOW! - The Ultimate Guide to Learn the Secrets of Non-Verbal Communication: Body Language)
Lord, lord, lord. Protect me from the consequences of the above prayer. Amen.
Douglas Adams (Mostly Harmless (Hitchhiker's Guide, #5))
Dear Lord,   Again, today, I need you. Help me to serve others. Guide me as I lead others. Protect me while I care for others. Forgive me when I fail. Strengthen me where I am weak. Let no harm come to those around me.
William C. Oakes (Christlike Leadership: Leadership that Starts with an Attitude (Christlike Leadership Theory and Practice Series Book 1))
MAY 5 I RULE THE SEA AND THE WATERS BY MY STRENGTH I RULE THE sea and waters by My strength, and I am mightier than the noise of many waters or the mighty waves of the sea. The sea is Mine, for I made it, just as I formed the dry land. When you go down to the sea in ships and do business on great waters, you will see My works and My wonders in the deep. It is I who commands and raises the stormy wind and who lifts up the waves of the sea. I cause them to mount up to the heavens and to go down again to the depths. I will calm the story so that its waves are still and guide you to your desired haven. I will make a way in the sea and a path through the mighty waters. PSALMS 93:4; 107:23–30; ISAIAH 43:16 Prayer Declaration Lord, You rule the sea and the waters by Your strength, and You will not let any evil waters overflow my life. Your power will protect me, and no evil waves will rise up against me, nor will I be cast into the depths of the sea. Just as You dried up the sea and the waters of the great deep to make a road for the Israelites, so too You will make a road through the sea for the redeemed to cross over.
John Eckhardt (Daily Declarations for Spiritual Warfare: Biblical Principles to Defeat the Devil)
Step 4 is about beginning to find your heart. Creator, protect me from my worst enemy––myself.  I ask that you guide me into the badlands of self, that I may know you better.  Please protect my spirit as I relive the past in order to recover. Great Spirit, guide me as I face the self-examination of the South. Our
White Bison (The Red Road to Welbriety: In The Native American Way)
If the gospel lacks correspondence to reality, why is it that the majority of believers never comes to terms with this? As I expressed in my opening chapter, I am convinced it is not due to a lack of intelligence. Nor is it due to a lack of goodness or noble intentions on the part of most believers. Rather, from the perspective of one who has escaped the finely tuned clutches of the Christian machinery designed to keep me in the fold, I see it primarily as a lack of courage, at least for those who have encountered good reasons for doubting. I, like most believers, experienced serious doubts as a young Christian, but I lacked the courage to pit my reservations against the authority of the church and against its fallible, humanly authored scriptures, finding it safer to submit to the supremely well-crafted, guilt-inducing tactics of apologists who assured me that all the fault lay with me and not with the divinely inspired Bible. I capitulated and managed to hold my doubts at bay for over a decade longer while serving God on the mission field. Many if not most of you have faced similar questions and misgivings about the Bible and the Christian faith, even if not to the same extent. You might be like me during my initial short-lived crises of faith: I could not bring myself to face with courage the possibility that life might not have any cosmic Meaning; that there might be no higher power to guide, protect, and provide for me; that justice might not prevail in the long run; that I might no longer be able to hold sinners accountable with the words, "Thus says the Lord"; that life ends at the grave; or that I might have followed and lead others to follow a grand mistake. I lacked the courage to face my church, family, and friends whom I feared would look upon me as a reprobate. I lacked the courage to think for myself—to accept that the virtues of humility and meekness must not be used as an excuse for failing to challenge entrenched ideas that lack sufficient evidence. In short, I preferred to squelch the seed of doubt and label it as sin rather than as healthy, critical thinking, lest it flower and make life unbearable. That I viewed my incipient doubt and disbelief as sin was no accident: the church has a powerful vested interest in keeping believers in the fold, and it will not let them go without a fight. My courage-squelching guilt or angst was the result of a concerted effort developed over the centuries to make me feel like a depraved worm, a proud and willful rebel, a traitor, a God-hater, and an enemy of all that is good. I was programmed to consider that I would be better off if I were to commit adultery or murder than if I were to abandon the one who created me and redeemed me. Without Christ I would be worse than a good-for-nothing, and, like the traitor Judas, it would have been better for me had I never been born. No wonder most believers never muster the courage to break free from this cage!
Kenneth W. Daniels (Why I Believed)
Every man has his own way of life (mos) and his own religious practices (ritus). Similarly, the divine mind has given to different cities different religious rites (cultus) that protect them. As souls are apportioned to men at birth, so, too, does each nation receive a Genius, which guides its destiny. In addition there is also the bestowal of favors (utilitas) which, more than anything else, proves to man the existence of the gods. Since all human reasoning is obscure on this matter, from where else does knowledge of the gods more correctly come than from the recollection and evidence of success? If the long passage of time gives authority to religious rites, we must keep faith with so many centuries and follow our fathers, who followed their fathers and consequently prospered.     Let us imagine that Rome herself is standing here now and addressing these words to you: “Best of emperors, fathers of the fatherland, respect the number of years that the dutiful (pius) performance of religious rites has brought to me. Let me enjoy the ancient ceremonies, for I do not regret them. Let me live according to my own custom (mos), for I am free. This is the worship (cultus) which made the whole world obedient to my laws. These are the rituals (sacra) which drove back Hannibal from my walls and the Senones [a Gallic tribe] from my Capitol. Have I been preserved only to be criticized in my old age? I will consider the changes that people think must be instituted, but correction in old age is insulting and too late.”     And so we are asking for amnesty (pax) for the gods of our fathers, our native gods. It is reasonable to assume that whatever each of us worships is one and the same. We look up at the same stars, the same sky is common to us all, the same universe encompasses us. What difference does it make which system each of us uses to seek the truth? It is not by just one route that man can arrive at so great a mystery. (Symmachus, Dispatches to the Emperor 3.8
Valerie M. Warrior (Roman Religion (Cambridge Introduction to Roman Civilization))
I don't mind feeling cherished and wanted and protected, but Raphael - and Christian - were going overboard. 'What we have here is a rampant case of alpha male-itis,' I announced, glaring at Raphael. He raised one sleek brow in a 'Who? Me?' question. 'Well, guess what? I've suddenly become an alpha female, and that means I don't have to take any crap from either of you.
Katie MacAlister (A Girl's Guide to Vampires (Dark Ones #1))
I made my stand. “I will go, and I will have the best of Heaven and Hell to guide and protect me.
Cameo Renae (Broken Wings (Hidden Wings, #2))
Warrior’s Prayer Oba, guide me, that I might do thy bidding. Make me the swift and deadly instrument of your will. Let my aim be true, and my cause righteous. Make my hand faster than those who seek to do me harm. Grant me victory over my foes, that I might protect your people. And, Oba, if today is truly the day you call me home, Then let me die with my foe prostrate at my feet.
J.R. Handley (The Reservist (Order of the Centurion #5))
The message of EFT is simple: Forget about learning how to argue better, analyzing your early childhood, making grand romantic gestures, or experimenting with new sexual positions. Instead, recognize and admit that you are emotionally attached to and dependent on your partner in much the same way that a child is on a parent for nurturing, soothing, and protection. Adult attachments may be more reciprocal and less centered on physical contact, but the nature of the emotional bond is the same. EFT focuses on creating and strengthening this emotional bond between partners by identifying and transforming the key moments that foster an adult loving relationship: being open, attuned, and responsive to each other.
Sue Johnson (Hold Me Tight: Your Guide to the Most Successful Approach to Building Loving Relationships)
We all experience some fear when we have disagreements or arguments with our partners. But for those of us with secure bonds, it is a momentary blip. The fear is quickly and easily tamped down as we realize that there is no real threat or that our partner will reassure us if we ask. For those of us with weaker or fraying bonds, however, the fear can be overwhelming. We are swamped by what neuroscientist Jaak Panksepp of Washington State University calls “primal panic.” Then we generally do one of two things: we either become demanding and clinging in an effort to draw comfort and reassurance from our partner, or we withdraw and detach in an attempt to soothe and protect ourselves. No matter the exact words, what we’re really saying in these reactions is: “Notice me. Be with me. I need you.” Or, “I won’t let you hurt me. I will chill out, try to stay in control.
Sue Johnson (Hold Me Tight: Your Guide to the Most Successful Approach to Building Loving Relationships)
SEEK TO PLEASE ME above all else. Let that goal be your focal point as you go through this day. Such a mind-set will protect you from scattering your energy to the winds. The free will I bestowed on you comes with awesome responsibility. Each day presents you with choice after choice. Many of these decisions you ignore and thus make by default. Without a focal point to guide you, you can easily lose your way. That’s why it is so important to stay in communication with Me, living in thankful awareness of My Presence.
Sarah Young (Jesus Calling: Enjoying Peace in His Presence)
Tamani checkled. ‘If it makes you feel any better, it scares the daylights our of me on a regular basis.’ He rained kisses on her again, his fingers pressed against her back and her waist, and Laurel realized that his chest was shaking convulsivly. ‘What?’ She asked pulling away. ‘What’s wrong?’ But he wasn’t sobbing-- he was laughing! ‘The World Tree,’ he said. ‘It was right all along.’ ‘When you got your answer?’ He nodded. ‘You said you would tell me someday what it said. Will you now?’ ‘Commit.’ ‘What?’ ‘The tree just said, commit.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, smiling a little. ‘I don’t understand,’ Laurel said. ‘Neither did I. I was already your fear-gleidhidh; I’d committed my life to protecting you. When the tree told me that, I figured you were as good as mine. Easy.’ ‘And then I told you to leave,’ Laurel said, sorrow at the memory settling deep within her. ‘I understand why you did,’ Tamani said, threading his fingers through hers. ‘And it probably was better for us in the long run. But it hurt.’ ‘I'm sorry.’ ‘Don't be. I was listening to the tree, and to my own selfish desires, when I should have been listening to you. I think I know what the tree really meant now,’ he said, his voice rumbling against her ear. ‘I needed to commit my life to you-- not to guiding you or protecting you, completely, in my core. I needed to stop worrying about whether you would ever do the same for me. In a way, I think that's what coming to the human world did, and why I wasn't sure I could bare to go back.’ He traced his finger down her face. ‘I was committed to the idea before-- to the love I felt for you. But not to you. And I think you sensed that change or you’d have rejected me.’ ‘Maybe,’ Laurel said, although at this moment she couldn't fathom rejecting him for any reason. His fingers found her chin, lifting it so he could look her in the eyes. ‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘No,’ she said, running one finger across his bottom lip, ‘Thank you.’ Then she pulled his face down, their lips meeting, melting together again. She wished she could stay there all day, all year, all eternity, but reality came creeping slowly back in.
Aprilynne Pike (Destined (Wings, #4))
Love in its purest, most magical form, has no ifs or buts or maybes. Love is to desire what is best for another, even if it is not what we wish to happen from our own standpoint. Love in its purest form can also step back emotionally and allow someone to go through a negative experience rather than protect them from a learning opportunity that will speed their understanding of life and themselves. The greatest love anyone can have for another is to let them go, if that is what is best for them, on their journey of evolution through experience.
David Icke (I am me I am free: The Robots' Guide to Freedom)
As I meditate, I affirm the presence of a guide, angel, or master who is there to love and assist me.
Cyndi Dale (Energetic Boundaries: How to Stay Protected and Connected in Work, Love, and Life)
I am your shelter from the storm. I am your strength when you are weak. I am the fire that burns through your veins and heats you when you are in need. I am the one who will fill your womb and protect the children you give me. I am your light in the darkness and the one who guides your way when you are lost. I am the creature who will destroy worlds to keep you and will never allow you to fall. I am Lennox, beast to the High King of the Nine Realms and King of Norvalla. I am your mate, Aria Karnavious.” Leaning closer, locking eyes with mine, Lennox asked, “Who are you?
Amelia Hutchins (Ruins of Chaos: Legacy of the Nine Realms)
All of these strategies support the real purpose of emotions and beliefs: to guide us into joy. Once you hit upon a strong feeling, isolate it. Ask the Divine to help you figure out the message behind the feeling. Ask also what you should do, think, or believe to transform it into joy. Do the same for your thoughts. Especially when you’re stuck, ask the Divine to pinpoint the belief that is undoing your happiness. Now transform it into a more sustaining belief, a real truth. A thought like “I don’t deserve to be well” could become “I open to the healing that the Divine holds for me.
Cyndi Dale (Energetic Boundaries: How to Stay Protected and Connected in Work, Love, and Life)
FOR A WOMAN WHO FEARS SHE IS TOO DAMAGED TO LOVE AGAIN A Prayer adapted from the Heart and Soul of Sex by Gina Ogden, PhD. Holy Spirits of Fire befriend and warm me. Earth and Water wrap me in bounty. Spirits of Air guide me to walk the paths of my heart. Sun smile on me. Stones accept me. Stars remind me. Ocean storms burnish my terrors to translucent pearls. Creatures of hills and hollows, beings beneath the ground watch over me, comfort and nourish me. Snakes and rivers, ancient dragons, dance sinuously with me. Swirling spirit of volcano invest me with power. Eagle and sparrow give me wings and sight. Snails of Buddha, saints of God, Great Spirit, Yahweh, Magus, Shiva, Isis, Astarte of the flowing heart, Goddess of Grain, Angel of Sweetness, Higher Power, protect me, fearful, angry, and armored; as I am the giver, healer, striver, survivor and lover. Cherish me—waif and victim, elf and Amazon. See me a holy woman now. Touch me. Brush me with the breath of love. Ganesh, sacred elephant who cries human tears and oversees new ventures, help me begin again.
Gina Ogden
Cynicism dressed like a security guard, making me believe that if I hoped for less, it would protect me and prevent more pain.
Lysa TerKeurst (Forgiving What You Can't Forget Study Guide: Discover How to Move On, Make Peace with Painful Memories, and Create a Life That's Beautiful Again)
It took my near death, however, to comprehend that his fate—and Jasper’s and Daisy’s—is separate from mine. I can try to protect my children, to help and guide them, and I can love them, but I cannot save them. Nic, Jasper, and Daisy will live, and someday they will die, with or without me.
David Sheff (Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction)
Being responsible front of the other. (part2) The reason that has guided the choice of the institutions to limit our freedom is precisely that of trying to control the spread of the virus with what is possible. Keep the distance between me and my neighbor, use the mask, avoid crowds. At the basis of these personal safety practices, however, there is an ethical principle that not everyone can see or perceive as "normal", but which I personally find very profound, and which I believe is worth making evident. A principle that directly concerns the responsibility that each of us has towards his other. You are never alone, especially in a society like ours, which makes the relationship and exchange with the other its foundation. For this, I have to limit my range of action to safeguard the health of my neighbor. I can also be in excellent health, I can also be infected without having symptoms, however those in front of me may not react in the same way as I do to a possible infection. And who is in front of me can be someone dear to me, of course. But not only. It is not only my affections that I must protect. My neighbor is also who I happen to meet on the street, the person who is next to me on the bus, the neighbor with whom I never even exchange a greeting, the stranger who asks me for alms. It is he too that I must protect. Being responsible means thinking about others while making choices. Being responsible in this particular historical moment means making decisions while holding firm to the principle of caring for my neighbor. It means feeling part of a community of individuals towards whom I must maintain an attitude of respect. This respect must regard diversity in all its forms, that is, it must regard the other as an inexhaustible source of the variety of common life, it must regard all otherness as that wealth that exceeds my little world and that I must never pretend to be able fully understand. Yes, because it is the other unknown to me, the other who exceeds all my understanding, the other who is irreducible to me and to my interpretative schemes, which is the origin of that difference that makes life something varied and colorful. , something that is unique, unrepeatable, surprising at every moment. And it's worth taking care of, before taking care. Being responsible towards the other therefore means recognizing the value of existence, of that sacred principle which is the right to life. Taking care of those I don't know also means taking care of myself and my world; it means helping to safeguard the world as a place with multiple possibilities. Being responsible in the transition period we are experiencing means that it is up to us to choose which world will be born, starting from a simple reflection: do we want a world that helps and respects the other or a world that still tramples on the next?
Corina Abdulahm Negura
Sharing difficult truths might come with a cost-the need to face them- but there is also a reward: freedom. The truth releases us form shame." "There is a term we use in therapy: Forced forgiveness. Sometimes people feel that in order to get past trauma, they need to forgive whoever caused the damage. But too often people feel pressured to forgive and then end up believing that something is wrong with them if they cant quite get there. You can have compassion without forgiving. there are many ways to move on, and pretending to feel a certain way isn’t one." "I point out to her that pain can be protective; staying in a depressed place can be a form of avoidance. Safe inside her shell of pain, she doesn’t have to face anything, nor does she has to emerge into the world, where she may get hurt again." "What brings you here now? The now is key, why this year, this month, this day, have you decided to come talk to me?" "Just as parents raise their kids to loose them one day, therapists work to loose clients, not retain them." "The inability to say no is largely about approval seeking- people imagine that if they say no, they wont be loved by others. The inability to say yes however, is more about lack of trust in one self." "You cant get through your pain by diminishing it, you get through your pain by accepting it and figuring out what to do with it." "We grow in connection with others. It turns out the books grow in the same way." "Its all you" we tend to say, "I was just here to guide you" And in a sense, that’s true. The fact that they picked up the phone and decided to come to therapy and then work through things every week is something no one else could do for them" "Its like when someone finally has the guts to tell you that you have a problem, and you feel both defensive and relieved that this person is telling it like it is. That’s the delicate work therapists do.
Lori Gottlieb (Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, Her Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed)
For someone who is not in close relationship with them, a narcissist will appear very pleasant, sociable and respectable. To the outside world, they seem like great dads, who sacrifice a lot and always fight for their family, which can cause confusion in their children - Is my father really as manipulative as I believe? Maybe he is really trying to help me. Maybe the problem really is me. Am I not allowing my father to guide and protect me?  A child of a narcissist will often hear how great of a father they have, and that they should be thankful for having someone so attentive to raise them.
Theresa J. Covert (Narcissistic Fathers: The Problem with being the Son or Daughter of a Narcissistic Parent, and how to fix it. A Guide for Healing and Recovering After Hidden Abuse)
I’ve actually left a lunch with friends when a man there got enraged with his spouse. His rage hurt me. In situations like that, I am fierce about protecting my energy, so I said to my friends, “Please excuse me. I’m feeling tired,” and politely left. It was awkward, but I chose my well-being over “social correctness” and sticking it out.
Judith Orloff (The Empath's Survival Guide: Life Strategies for Sensitive People)
Determined to get back on track with the kitchen renovation, Aggie decided to ask Luke if another coat of paint was necessary, or if she should carry in the flooring now. “Okay, Luke…” Aggie looked around for him, and eventually she saw him through the picture window in the living room. He was out front, guiding a large truck, as it backed up the driveway. Curious as to who was backing in, Aggie dashed out the door and tripped down the steps, fortunately unseen by teasing children or an over-protective Luke. When she saw Luke and a man she didn’t recognize unloading cabinets from the truck, she gasped. “Luke, where did you find them? They are exactly what I wanted!” Her squeals of excitement brought children from every corner of the house. Even Tavish the hermit stepped from his own little world to see what made Aggie squeal with such obvious delight. Luke and Laird helped unload each cabinet from the truck and carry them to the back step. Once finished, Luke thanked the driver for bringing them, as he handed the man a check. The burly man jumped into the truck, and as he put it in gear, he stuck his head out the window and said, “Hey, Luke. Anytime you feel like building more cabinets like those, let me know. My wife is green right now. I’d love to see her natural color again.” With that, the truck slowly drove down the driveway and pulled onto the road.
Chautona Havig (Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance, #1))
Boundaries to Consider I say no to things I don’t like. I say no to things that don’t contribute to my growth. I say no to things that rob me of valuable time. I spend time around healthy people. I reduce my interactions with people who drain my energy. I protect my energy against people who threaten my sanity. I practice positive self-talk. I allow myself to feel and not judge my feelings. I forgive myself when I make a mistake. I actively cultivate the best version of myself. I turn off my phone when appropriate. I sleep when I’m tired. I mind my business. I make tough decisions because they’re healthy for me. I create space for activities that bring me joy. I say yes to activities that interest me despite my anxiety about trying them. I experience things alone instead of waiting for the “right” people to join me.
Nedra Glover Tawwab (Set Boundaries, Find Peace: A Guide to Reclaiming Yourself)
The government consists of a gang of men exactly like you and me. They have, taken one with the other, no special talent for the business of govt., they only have a talent for holding office.
Christopher Volkay (THE SKEPTIC'S GUIDE TO EVERYTHING: Sanitized of Pop-psychology, (with bleach) for your Protection (Skeptic & Contrarian Strategies for this Joyfest we call Life. Book 1))
Today, I ask that my animal guides reveal themselves to me. I wish to receive the gifts of sight so that they may reveal what I cannot see, guide, and protect me in the coming storm.
Veronica Henry (Bacchanal)
Love is the most powerful force in the world. Love conquers all. Just a shift in thinking, taking fear into faith and believing you are loved, protected and guided by a benevolent universe can turn a life of hell into one of bliss.
Karen S. Wylie (Into Me See: A Book for Daily Inspiration)
Father by Maisie Aletha Smikle In the image of God You were created Bestowed with God's love You always rise above To overcome whatever may Come your way Be it small as a pin Or big as an anchor With your loving arms You comforted me And consoled me Like a father should You guided me You protected me You sheltered me You fed me You clothed me You shielded me With your tower of strength Bullies stayed at arms length I run to you for help You said Come my loving child And rest for a while My worries you take And place in your pockets You promise to be the rock I could always lean on Promises you kept  Until your very last breath Rest sweet Papa rest You have done your utmost best
Maisie Aletha Smikle
Paradoxically, the musical Merrily is both very faithful yet rather untrue to its source. To repeat: in the musical, we lose a substantial piece of information about why the hero is so determined to achieve financial independence: to protect himself from the kind of beating he took during his first marriage. No one, we almost hear him cry, will ever own me again! But the musical also improved on that hero, trading the somewhat high-strung Richard Niles for the more fascinating Franklin Shepard, a wonder boy on whom everyone needs to project his or her fantasies. He’s a savior, yes—but of no redemptive power whatsoever, because he’s too self-absorbed to relate to others. Is that why he gave up the very creative vocation of composer for the bureaucratic post of movie producer? Like so many Sondheim shows, Merrily We Roll Along raises more questions than it answers. But raising questions is the theatre’s mandate. It may be that we’re never going to know what drives Franklin Shepard, just as we never quite understand the Franklin Shepards we meet in life. The better we know them, the more they confuse us. One Merrily lyric runs, “It started out like a song.” It always does, doesn’t it?
Ethan Mordden (On Sondheim: An Opinionated Guide)
I gird myself today with the power of God: God’s strength to comfort me, God’s might to uphold me, God’s wisdom to guide me, God’s eye to look before me, God’s ear to hear me, God’s word to speak for me, God’s hand to lead me, God’s way to lie before me, God’s shield to protect me. ..
Charles R. Swindoll (Perfect Trust)
Automatic thoughts occur because the subconscious mind stores information that is meant to protect you. However, it also stores negative associations better than positive ones because it acts as a safety mechanism. Although this is effective from an evolutionary standpoint, it unfortunately perpetuates a lot of anxious and hopeless thoughts. Also keep in mind that since the subconscious mind is programmed through repetition and emotion, the more we perpetuate beliefs, the more deeply ingrained they become over time. So, how do we identify automatic thoughts and the core triggers that created them? Well, the brain is always looking for information to support what it believes. This is called supportive evidence. Supportive evidence is the information that the brain picks out of its environment to reinforce its existing thoughts. In the context of reprogramming your subconscious, this is a negative practice. An example of this may occur if Connor were to go to a work party—remember that he believes that he is fundamentally unworthy of emotional connection. When he walks in, his automatic thoughts include “No one likes me, and no one wants me here.” The brain then begins to look for supportive evidence: Someone frowning in conversation while looking in his direction, to Connor, means that they hate him and want him to leave. With Suneel, supportive evidence may occur when Suneel makes grammatical corrections in the project they’re working on together. To Connor, this may again reinforce that Suneel is trying to undermine him. A powerful aspect of supportive evidence to consider is that it occurs every day and everywhere in our lives. Our mind is constantly looking for supportive evidence of what our subconscious believes. When the subconscious stores fundamentally painful beliefs, they become projected onto our reality everywhere we look. Therefore, it is essential to begin looking for contradictory evidence for our core wounds to reprogram our subconscious and heal our everyday perspectives. Contradictory evidence is information that disproves existing beliefs. Since memory is colored by emotion, finding contradictory evidence in our past and present and pairing it with the emotions associated with that experience allows us to begin reprogramming our subconscious. Essentially, finding proof of the opposite helps to equilibrate our subconscious, and from there, it can be taught new and updated beliefs.
Thais Gibson (Attachment Theory: A Guide to Strengthening the Relationships in Your Life)