Hare And Tortoise Quotes

I insist on a lot of time being spent, almost every day, to just sit and think. That is very uncommon in American business. I read and think. So I do more reading and thinking, and make less impulse decisions than most people in business. I do it because I like this kind of life.

Warren Buffett is one of the best learning machines on this earth. The turtles which outrun the hares are learning machines. If you stop learning in this world, the world rushes right by you.

The hare of history once more overtakes the tortoise of art.

Good habits are the basic tools that will determine whether you are a tortoise or hare in life!

The governmental tortoise cannot keep up with the technological hare.

It was a race between the tortoise and the hare, but the tortoise had just enough head start, and he had the magus to drag him along.

If the hare makes too many minor missteps and has to keep adjusting, the tortoise wins. If the tortoise spends too much time planning each step, the hare wins.

Warren Buffett chuckled and said to me "I hope it's not my bad habits" Good Habits once established are just as hard to break as bad habits and bad habits are easier to abandon today than tomorrow. So what are you going to do about it?

Debt is a four letter word and means a four word sentence - Be Prepared for Trouble.

I deal with writer’s block by lowering my expectations. I think the trouble starts when you sit down to write and imagine that you will achieve something magical and magnificent—and when you don’t, panic sets in. The solution is never to sit down and imagine that you will achieve something magical and magnificent. I write a little bit, almost every day, and if it results in two or three or (on a good day) four good paragraphs, I consider myself a lucky man. Never try to be the hare. All hail the tortoise.

You must really want to win with all of your heart! Plan your race; do not ever get side tracked. Focus on your goal - “the finishing line”!

As children, we were given a choice between the talented but erratic hare and the plodding but steady tortoise. The lesson was supposed to be that slow and steady wins the race. But, really, did any of us ever want to be the tortoise? No, we just wanted to be a less foolish hare. We wanted to be swift as the wind and a bit more strategic—say, not taking quite so many snoozes before the finish line. After all, everyone knows you have to show up in order to win. The story of the tortoise and the hare, in trying to put forward the power of effort, gave effort a bad name. It reinforced the image that effort is for the plodders and suggested that in rare instances, when talented people dropped the ball, the plodder could sneak through.

In the aftermath of an athletic humiliation on an unprecedented scale—a loss to a tortoise in a footrace so staggering that, his tormenters teased, it would not only live on in the record books, but would transcend sport itself, and be taught to children around the world in textbooks and bedtime stories for centuries; that hundreds of years from now, children who had never heard of a “tortoise” would learn that it was basically a fancy type of turtle from hearing about this very race—the hare retreated, understandably, into a substantial period of depression and self-doubt.

And good luck to you, tortoise,” whispered the hare, leaning in close. “And just so you know—nobody knows this, and if you tell anyone I said it, I’ll deny it—but I’m not really a hare. I’m a rabbit.” This wasn’t true—the hare just said it to fuck with him.

The re-dipping of the dishes was a small matter, but the emotional texture of married life is made up of small matters. This one had become invested with a fatal quality.

My Hero Just as the hare is zipping across the finish line, the tortoise has stopped once again by the roadside, this time to stick out his neck and nibble a bit of sweet grass, unlike the previous time when he was distracted by a bee humming in the heart of a wildflower.

Remember the story of the tortoise and the hare? While many investors have ‘sprinted’ toward their investment goals, success is most often found by consistent action, not big action.

Resistance outwits the amateur with the oldest trick in the book: It uses his own enthusiasm against him. Resistance gets us to plunge into a project with an overambitious and unrealistic timetable for its completion. It knows we can’t sustain that level of intensity. We will hit the wall. We will crash. The professional, on the other hand, understands delayed gratification. He is the ant, not the grasshopper; the tortoise, not the hare... The professional arms himself with patience, not only to give the stars time to align in his career, but to keep himself from flaming out in each individual work. He knows that any job, whether it's a novel or kitchen remodel, takes twice as long as he thinks and costs twice as much. He accepts that. He recognizes it as reality.

The claim that the only constraints on our success are the limits of our imagination, although generally false, has lifted hearts for millennia. Grand visions take precedence over prosaic numbers.

Humans who believe they have outrun their undead pursuers might do well to remember the story of the tortoise and the hare, adding, of course, that in this instance the hare stands a good chance of being eaten alive.

Aesop was writing for the tortoise market. Axiomatically, hares have no time to read. They are too busy winning the game. The propaganda goes all the other way, but only because it is the tortoise who is in need of consolation. Like the meek who are going to inherit the earth.

Do you want to know the biggest lie in personal growth? The Tortoise and the Hare. You’ve been told that slow and steady wins the race. And you’ve been told that persistence and consistency create champions. They don’t. That’s because in real life, the rabbit always wins. Always.

During dinner a sea turtle stopped by for a visit. At three or four feet in length... the turtle swam alongside for about twenty minutes, its head bobbing just above the surface of the water. Then with laughing eyes the turtle passed me..being left behind by a turtle pricked up my competitive nature. I pulled harder trying to keep up, but I couldn't catch the turtle. Soon I was reduced to laughter. " I am in the North Atlantic in a rowboat, racing a turtle...and loosing. Okay, so they can swim thirty miles an hour. Out here, I am the tortoise and it's the hare.

The hare of history once more overtakes the tortoise of art

Slow and steady wins the race!" From The Tortoise and the Hare.

Tortoise Mind.” “Hare Brain.” They need each other. But keep them separate!

The governmental tortoise cannot keep up with the technological hare. It is overwhelmed by data. The NSA may be spying on our every word, but to judge by the repeated failures of American foreign policy, nobody in Washington knows what to do with all the data.

The Quack Toad 84 The Fox Without a Tail 85 The Mischievous Dog 86 The Rose and the Butterfly 86 The Cat and the Fox 88 The Boy and the Nettles 88 The Old Lion 89 The Fox and the Pheasants 89 Two Travelers and a Bear 90 The Porcupine and the Snakes 91 The Fox and the Monkey 91 The Mother and the Wolf 92 The Flies and the Honey 92 The Eagle and the Kite 93 The Stag, the Sheep, and the Wolf 93 The Animals and the Plague 94 The Shepherd and the Lion 95 The Dog and His Reflection 96 The Hare and the Tortoise 96 The Bees and Wasps, and the Hornet 98 The Lark and Her Young Ones 99 The Cat and the Old Rat 100 The Fox and the Crow 101 The Ass and His Shadow 102 The Miller, His Son, and the Ass 102 The

Imogen,” he said with forced patience, “you have plenty of occupations of your own, and you don’t care to do the things that give a great deal of pleasure to me – when I have time to do them. You don’t want to fish or shoot and you can’t drive my car, which would be a help to me sometimes. Am I to understand that you object to my having the companionship of another woman who can do these things?

I follow him up a familiar staircase, but this time, instead of turning to the right where I slept last time, I follow him to the left and into his room. He walks to his dresser and pulls out a T-shirt and boxers.   “Shit!” he says when he sees me. “I didn’t know you were there. Here are some things for you to sleep in and if you wait a second, I’ll grab some towels. Or if you want, I can bring them to your room.”   “Can I sleep with you tonight?” I throw it out there. Quick, like ripping off a bandage. “I’ll understand if you say no, I just . . . never mind. Sorry. I’ll be in the other room.” I want to turn and run, but my entire body aches and instead of being the hare, I’m for sure the tortoise.   “Where are you going?” Gavin’s hand on my shoulder causes me to stop. “Of course you can sleep with me.”   Tortoise wins again, slow and steady.   “Are you sure? I’ve already invaded your house, now I’m taking over your bed. And my nose is stuffy from crying so I’ll probably snore.”   Stop while you’re ahead, Marlee.   #TMI

Mind the Gap You are the kiss which manifests In the locus where heaven meets earth. You are the kiss which traverses the gap between God's and Adam's finger -- a verdant oasis on the intersection of infinite smallness and infinite greatness, the living earth in the cosmic graveyard of stars, the period beneath the scythe of the question, the period beneath the needle of exclamation, the tortoise and hare point where parallel lines meet in this universe of infinite questions without answers, in this universe of infinite wonder with exclamation, in this universe of infinite mystery where we ask 'Why is there something and not nothing?' And behold the answer in a kiss.

Rivers flood our tallest levees and break through our mightiest dams. Beaches keep moving, despite jetty walls and truckloads of imported sand. “Our domination of nature is a delusion,” Carol says. “We cannot exempt ourselves from nature’s ironclad laws. We cannot grow infinitely on a finite planet.” Mother Nature is a tough old broad. Like the humble tortoise lining up against the hotshot hare, she will outlast us. We can’t sustain our blustery sprint to the front of the pack. Our current reign has lasted fewer than ten thousand years—barely a blip in the earth’s four-billion-year history. Our supremacy is short-lived, and our species’ future is uncertain. Only one thing is for sure: we need Mother Nature a lot more than she needs us.

THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE A Hare was one day making fun of a Tortoise for being so slow upon his feet. "Wait a bit," said the Tortoise; "I'll run a race with you, and I'll wager that I win." "Oh, well," replied the Hare, who was much amused at the idea, "let's try and see"; and it was soon agreed that the fox should set a course for them, and be the judge. When the time came both started off together, but the Hare was soon so far ahead that he thought he might as well have a rest: so down he lay and fell fast asleep. Meanwhile the Tortoise kept plodding on, and in time reached the goal. At last the Hare woke up with a start, and dashed on at his fastest, but only to find that the Tortoise had already won the race. Slow and steady wins the race.

As we have seen, the modern mind has a distorted image of itself that leads it to neglect some of its own most valuable learning capacities. We now know that the brain is built to linger as well as to rush, and that slow knowing sometimes leads to better answers. We know that knowledge makes itself known through sensations, images, feelings and inklings, as well as through clear, conscious thoughts. Experiments tell us that just interacting with complex situations without trying to figure them out can deliver a quality of understanding that defies reason and articulation. Other studies have shown that confusion may be a vital precursor to the discovery of a good idea. To be able to meet the uncertain challenges of the contemporary world, we need to heed the message of this research, and to expand our repertoire of ways of learning and knowing to reclaim the full gamut of cognitive possibilities.

Miss Prudence Mercer Stony Cross Hampshire, England 7 November 1854 Dear Prudence, Regardless of the reports that describe the British soldier as unflinching, I assure you that when riflemen are under fire, we most certainly duck, bob, and run for cover. Per your advice, I have added a sidestep and a dodge to my repertoire, with excellent results. To my mind, the old fable has been disproved: there are times in life when one definitely wants to be the hare, not the tortoise. We fought at the southern port of Balaklava on the twenty-fourth of October. Light Brigade was ordered to charge directly into a battery of Russian guns for no comprehensible reason. Five cavalry regiments were mowed down without support. Two hundred men and nearly four hundred horses lost in twenty minutes. More fighting on the fifth of November, at Inkerman. We went to rescue soldiers stranded on the field before the Russians could reach them. Albert went out with me under a storm of shot and shell, and helped to identify the wounded so we could carry them out of range of the guns. My closest friend in the regiment was killed. Please thank your friend Prudence for her advice for Albert. His biting is less frequent, and he never goes for me, although he’s taken a few nips at visitors to the tent. May and October, the best-smelling months? I’ll make a case for December: evergreen, frost, wood smoke, cinnamon. As for your favorite song…were you aware that “Over the Hills and Far Away” is the official music of the Rifle Brigade? It seems nearly everyone here has fallen prey to some kind of illness except for me. I’ve had no symptoms of cholera nor any of the other diseases that have swept through both divisions. I feel I should at least feign some kind of digestive problem for the sake of decency. Regarding the donkey feud: while I have sympathy for Caird and his mare of easy virtue, I feel compelled to point out that the birth of a mule is not at all a bad outcome. Mules are more surefooted than horses, generally healthier, and best of all, they have very expressive ears. And they’re not unduly stubborn, as long they’re managed well. If you wonder at my apparent fondness for mules, I should probably explain that as a boy, I had a pet mule named Hector, after the mule mentioned in the Iliad. I wouldn’t presume to ask you to wait for me, Pru, but I will ask that you write to me again. I’ve read your last letter more times than I can count. Somehow you’re more real to me now, two thousand miles away, than you ever were before. Ever yours, Christopher P.S. Sketch of Albert included As Beatrix read, she was alternately concerned, moved, and charmed out of her stockings. “Let me reply to him and sign your name,” she begged. “One more letter. Please, Pru. I’ll show it to you before I send it.” Prudence burst out laughing. “Honestly, this is the silliest things I’ve ever…Oh, very well, write to him again if it amuses you.

The ordinary miracle is the one that can actually happen. It can be seen in  people who hated exercise, lived off junk food and were in a death spiral — until they changed. Usually via a slow and steady approach, more tortoise than hare, but they changed. It was a long process, but they got leaner and more muscular. They worked hard to build strength, speed and stamina. They looked and felt better. They got out of the death spiral and began to enjoy life much more. For them, looking back on who they used to be and who they became, it seems miraculous.

Part of learning the slight edge is finding your own “intrinsically optimal rate of growth,” and it is always served best by a step-by-step approach of constant, never-ending improvement, which lays solid foundations and builds upon them over and over. The slight edge is your optimal rate of growth. Simple disciplines compounded over time. That’s how the tortoise won; that’s how you get to be a winner, too. Having said that, now let me ask this: what is the real point of the story of the tortoise and the hare? All together now: Slow and steady wins the race, right? But notice something here: the point is not that there’s any special virtue to moving slowly. There’s nothing inherently good about slowness, and it’s just as possible to move too slowly as to move too quickly. The key word in the Aesop moral is not “slow.” The key word here is steady. Steady wins the race. That’s the truth of it. Because steady is what taps into the power of the slight edge. The fable of the tortoise and the hare is really about the remarkable power of momentum. Newton’s second law of thermodynamics: a body at rest tends to stay at rest—and a body in motion tends to remain in motion. That’s why your activity is so important. Once you’re in motion, it’s easy to keep on keeping on. Once you stop, it’s hard to change from stop to go.

Never, in the history of competition—athletic or otherwise, human or otherwise, mythical or otherwise—has anyone ever kicked anyone’s ass by the order of magnitude that the hare kicked the ass of that goddamn fucking tortoise that afternoon.

In attaining wealth, it is better to be a tortoise than to be a hare. Slow and steady wins the race.

In these days we’re in a hare-and-tortoise race between mob rule and education: to avoid collapsing into mod rule we have to try to educate a minority that’ll stand out against it. The fable says that the tortoise won in the end, which is consoling, but the hare shows a good deal of speed and few signs of tiring.

The once anticlerical Mussolini, who had written a youthful novel called The Cardinal’s Mistress and, at twenty-one, in a debate with a Swiss pastor, had given God—if He existed—five minutes to strike him dead, had submitted in 1925 to a belated church marriage to his longtime common-law companion Rachele Guidi and to the baptism of their children. In elections on March 24, 1929, the Church’s explicit support helped produce a vote of 98 percent in favor of the Fascist list of candidates (there were no others) for parliament.90 Fascism paid a high price in the long term for the Church’s aid to consensus: as the hare of Fascist dynamism wore itself out, the tortoise of Catholic parish life and culture plodded along to become the basis of Christian democratic rule in Italy after 1945.

When we appreciate the good in others, the good of others becomes our property. THE BOOK FEATURES: 1.There is Always a Tomorrow 2.The Hare and Tortoise 12 versions (c) 3.The Crayons of Personality 4.The Powerful First Impression 5.Public Speaking - A Million Dollar Idea 6.A Sense of Humor 7.Mind Power- The Giant Within 8.The Making of a Gentleman 9.The Classy Elegant Lady 10.How to Smell Good 11.Grooming and Dress Sense 12.Personal Hygiene 13.Good Manners and Etiquettes 14.Body Language 15.The Attractive Voice 16.Self-Discipline and Time Management 17.Woo, Persuade and Influence Others 18.The Magical Power of Love 19.Secrets of Personal Magnetism 20.A Healthy Lifestyle 21.Cosmetic Surgery Make Over's 22.The Self-Made Millionaire "Every next level of Your life will need a new version of you".

I’ve just been to see Audrey,” Beatrix said breathlessly, entering the private upstairs parlor and closing the door. “Poor Mr. Phelan isn’t well, and--well, I’ll tell you about that in a minute, but--here’s a letter from Captain Phelan!” Prudence smiled and took the letter. “Thank you, Bea. Now, about the officers I met last night…there was a dark-haired lieutenant who asked me to dance, and he--” “Aren’t you going to open it?” Beatrix asked, watching in dismay as Prudence laid the letter on a side table. Prudence gave her a quizzical smile. “My, you’re impatient today. You want me to open it this very moment?” ”Yes.” Beatrix promptly sat in a chair upholstered with flower-printed fabric. “But I want to tell you about the lieutenant.” “I don’t give a monkey about the lieutenant, I want to hear about Captain Phelan.” Prudence gave a low chuckle. “I haven’t seen you this excited since you stole that fox that Lord Campdon imported from France last year.” “I didn’t steal him, I rescued him. Importing a fox for a hunt…I call that very unsporting.” Beatrix gestured to the letter. “Open it!” Prudence broke the seal, skimmed the letter, and shook her head in amused disbelief. “Now he’s writing about mules.” She rolled her eyes and gave Beatrix the letter. Miss Prudence Mercer Stony Cross Hampshire, England 7 November 1854 Dear Prudence, Regardless of the reports that describe the British soldier as unflinching, I assure you that when riflemen are under fire, we most certainly duck, bob, and run for cover. Per your advice, I have added a sidestep and a dodge to my repertoire, with excellent results. To my mind, the old fable has been disproved: there are times in life when one definitely wants to be the hare, not the tortoise. We fought at the southern port of Balaklava on the twenty-fourth of October. Light Brigade was ordered to charge directly into a battery of Russian guns for no comprehensible reason. Five cavalry regiments were mowed down without support. Two hundred men and nearly four hundred horses lost in twenty minutes. More fighting on the fifth of November, at Inkerman. We went to rescue soldiers stranded on the field before the Russians could reach them. Albert went out with me under a storm of shot and shell, and helped to identify the wounded so we could carry them out of range of the guns. My closest friend in the regiment was killed. Please thank your friend Prudence for her advice for Albert. His biting is less frequent, and he never goes for me, although he’s taken a few nips at visitors to the tent. May and October, the best-smelling months? I’ll make a case for December: evergreen, frost, wood smoke, cinnamon. As for your favorite song…were you aware that “Over the Hills and Far Away” is the official music of the Rifle Brigade? It seems nearly everyone here has fallen prey to some kind of illness except for me. I’ve had no symptoms of cholera nor any of the other diseases that have swept through both divisions. I feel I should at least feign some kind of digestive problem for the sake of decency. Regarding the donkey feud: while I have sympathy for Caird and his mare of easy virtue, I feel compelled to point out that the birth of a mule is not at all a bad outcome. Mules are more surefooted than horses, generally healthier, and best of all, they have very expressive ears. And they’re not unduly stubborn, as long they’re managed well. If you wonder at my apparent fondness for mules, I should probably explain that as a boy, I had a pet mule named Hector, after the mule mentioned in the Iliad. I wouldn’t presume to ask you to wait for me, Pru, but I will ask that you write to me again. I’ve read your last letter more times than I can count. Somehow you’re more real to me now, two thousand miles away, than you ever were before. Ever yours, Christopher P.S. Sketch of Albert included

Everything is gestation and bringing forth. To let each impression and each germ of a feeling come to completion wholly in itself, in the dark, in the inexpressible, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one’s own intelligence, and await with deep humility and patience the birth-hour of a new clarity: that alone is living the artist’s life. Being an artist means not reckoning and counting, but ripening like the tree which does not force its sap, and stands confident in the storms of spring without the fear that after them may come no summer. It does come. But it comes only to the patient, who are there as though eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly still and wide. Rainer Maria Rilke

No-the lesson of this story has nothing to do with the tortoise, thought the hare, and everything to do with the hare

As Elon Musk pushed his own competing space program forward with very public fits and starts, Bezos advised his team, “Be the tortoise and not the hare.” Blue Origin’s company shield has a Latin motto, Gradatim Ferociter: “Step by Step, Ferociously.

With tinny drumbeats, the rain pounds the roof My teary eyes compete They can't keep up Breathe Let it go Breathe The vice on my chest tightens its razoring grip I gasp No relief If only tears could soothe the pain Then, I would look upon the tidal waves against these walls without fear Crush and roll me, I'd plead, Mold my body anew But with these tears come no healing, Just death, slow and determined This old girl, this old woman, this old soul lives here inside A tortoise outgrowing this hare's body This youthful skin encasing a crumbling frame I smooth the matted web of curls off my sweaty neck And roll my eyes at the clock How slowly the time squeaks by here in this room, In this comfortless bed I abandon the warmth from under my blanket tower and shiver The draft rattles my spine One by one, striking my vertebrae Like a spoon chiming empty wine glasses, Hitting the same fragile note till my neck shakes the chill away I swipe along the naked floor with a toe for the slippers beneath the bed Plush fabric caresses my feet Stand! Get up With both hands, Gravity jerks me back down Ugh! This cursed bed! No more, I want no more of it I try again My legs quiver in search of my former strength Come on, old girl, Come on, old woman, Come on, old soul, Don't quit now The floor shakes beneath me, Hoping I trip and fall To the living room window, I trudge My joints grind like gravel under tires More pain no amount of tears can soothe away Pinching the embroidered curtain between my knuckles, I find solace in the gloom The wind humming against the window, Makes the house creak and groan Years ago, the cold numbed my pain But can it numb me again, This wretched body and fractured soul? Outside I venture with chants fluttering my lips, Desperate solemn pleas For comfort, For mercy For ease, For health I open the plush throw spiraled around my shoulders And tiptoe around the porch's rain-soaked boards The chilly air moves through me like Death on a mission, My body, an empty gorge with no barriers to stop him, No flesh or bone My highest and lowest extremities grow numb But my feeble knees and crippling bones turn half-stone, half-bone Half-alive, half-dead No better, just worse The merciless wind freezes my tears My chin tumbles in despair I cover myself and sniffle Earth’s scent funnels up my nose: Decay with traces of life in its perfume The treetops and their slender branches sway, Defying the bitter gusts As I turn to seek shelter, the last browned leaf breaks away It drifts, it floats At the weary tree’s feet, it makes its bed alongside the others Like a pile of corpses, they lie Furled and crinkled with age No one mourns their death Or hurries to honor the fallen with thoughtful burials No rage-filled cries echo their protests at the paws trampling their fragile bodies, Or at the desecration by the animals seeking morning relief And new boundaries to mark Soon, the stark canopy stretching over the pitiful sight Will replace them with vibrant buds and leaves Until the wasting season again returns For now, more misery will barricade my bones as winter creeps in Unless Death meets me first to end it

A hare so dominant that it actively helped the tortoise catch up, not knowing the tortoise would repay this kindness by kneecapping the hare and bursting into the lead.

One: something can be worth doing even if you’re not around to see the end result or reap the rewards. It is a noble goal to want to do something that other people will benefit from, and it should be natural to want that for our successors. I don’t just mean after you leave this life, I mean after you leave a job, or a governing body, or a school. Act in the interests of the people who will inherit what you’ve done. Two: no man is an island. You cannot do it all. Teams, communities, friends are key to our ongoing, and hopefully everlasting, successes. And three: don’t be distracted by speed. Remember the Tortoise and the Hare fable. Not everything good can be achieved quickly and being fast doesn’t guarantee success.

Evolutionary tortoises nonetheless do more genetic mixing than evolutionary hares. Austin Burt’s discovery of a correlation between generation length and amount of recombination is evidence of the Red Queen at work. The longer your generation time, the more genetic mixing you need to combat your parasites.

The professional, on the other hand, understands delayed gratification. He is the ant, not the grasshopper; the tortoise, not the hare. Have you heard the legend of Sylvester Stallone staying up three nights straight to churn out the screenplay for Rocky? I don't know, it may even be true. But it's the most pernicious species of myth to set before the awakening writer, because it seduces him into believing he can pull off the big score without pain and without persistence. The professional arms himself with patience, not only to give the stars time to align in his career, but to keep himself from flaming out in each individual work. He knows that any job, whether it's a novel or a kitchen remodel, takes twice as long as he thinks and costs twice as much. He accepts that. He recognizes it as reality. The professional steels himself at the start of a project, reminding himself it is the Iditarod, not the sixty-yard dash. He conserves his energy. He prepares his mind for the long haul. He sustains himself with the knowledge that if he can just keep those huskies mushing, sooner or later the sled will pull in to Nome.

lead your classroom or school like a plodding tortoise, not a performance enhanced hare.

Tortoise ran to win and he did. Did somebody tell you that hare ran for fun, not to win? Nobody you told what the tortoise got after winning. Hare enjoyed running and resting as well.

My grandmother had always warned me to appreciate the tortoise because I’d be up against the hare one day.

I can't change my skin-tone, You change your mindset." GIST OF THE QUOTE - It is stories that keep us going in life, not the traditional masculinity. Endings are never predictable like fables of hare and tortoise and others. : Our true form is not on gender or DNA of our chromosomes but on the freedom. The freedom of mind, voice, and expression. Our powers are not in strength, my strength maybe silences also. : As we live our story we realize our actual strength - my strength is persistence, positivity, and pride. : What is that gives you strength, woman? : : "In so long, I hadn’t sung a song My voice changed, Blended into a storm " : : #harshadapathare #women #womenquotes #empowerment #genderequality #genderrace #racethesun #womenpower #girlpower

My host denied any rivalry existed, because Iran wasn't playing the same game as Turkey. If there was any race, it should be compared to the story of the tortoise and the hare. The Turks were investing all sorts of money in television, the press, and high-profile visits in an effort to dominate the new republics, Habkin said. But this was a short term policy that would explode in their faces when the local cultures decided to define their own place in the sun The Turks were likely to lose a lot of money--and respect--when that happened. Iran's policy, in contrast, was one based on regional stability and allowing the new republics to make up their own minds about where their interests and identities lay. There was no competition in this, it wasn't a zero-sum game: Iran had things to offer and Turkey had things to offer; so did Pakistan, and even Afghanistan, once it recovered from its decade-long civil war. Let the Azeris and the Central Asians come and take a look and decide for themselves what they wanted to take from Iran's material, moral and political culture, Habkin said. Iran wasn't beating people over the head with this ideology or that. What you see is what you get.

I asked Saf. “How do you do that?” Saf smirked. “He has you on punishment, he thinks you are hurting and wasting your time morosing over him while he lives his life” “He is exacting punishment and he is enjoying it!” “He probably not thinking of you any at all” “His hope is to come back and see you same place he left you!” “And ready to take him back and take you out of your suffering!” Saf chuckled. “Waste his time!” Saf half shouted. I leaned in conspiratorially. “Me no understand!” Saf always spoke in colloguish manner. “Change the ending, the outcome!” “Let when he checks in back, he has lost the compass!” “You can’t be found!” “That’s how you get back control!” “Right now he has all the control in the world!” “And you have none!” “You start to get back your control!” “Remember when i told you about that rope!” “The one people tug every now and then to see if you still at the end of it!” “We move pass that now…!” “You come tie the rope to a stump of a tree!” “Or on a stick or staple it to the ground!” “And you gone run…!” “You gone play the same game he is playing…!” “Play it his way but still play against him” Saf sucked her teeth. “Precognitive!” She pressed her index finger against her forehead. “Same story as the Tortoise and the Hare” Yakima II Crystal Evans Copyright ©️ 2023

The first one is the Tortoise and Hare Theory, which states:  The outcome of most situations in life are determined over the long term.  The guy who gets off to a fast start merely wins a battle; the individual who's ahead at the end of the race wins the war.  Battles are for ego-trippers, wars are for money-grippers.

In war, resources lead to success: in business, success leads to resources. This is a fundamental difference between the processes of war and competition.

The way you want to be treated is a lot like how Google wants to be approached. Play nicely. Mean what you say. Don’t try to deceive. Share good stuff. Be authentic. Be precise with your words.

The story of the tortoise and the hare, in trying to put forward the power of effort, gave effort a bad name. It reinforced the image that effort is for the plodders and suggested that in rare instances, when talented people dropped the ball, the plodder could sneak through... In fact, to this day I remember how fond I was of those little creatures (or machines), but no way did I identify with them. The message was: If you're unfortunate enough to be the runt of the litter -- if you lack endowment -- you don't have to be an utter failure. You can be a sweet, adorable little slogger, and maybe (if you really work at it and withstand all the scornful onlookers) even a success... The problem was that these stories made it into an either-or. Either you have ability or you expend effort. And this is part of the fixed mindset... Effort is for those who don't have the ability. People with the fixed mindset tell us, "If you have to work at something, you must not be good at it." They add, "Things come easily to people who are true geniuses.

There's a festival going on in the city. It's the kind of a festival you can see in any city. All kinds of exhibitions, events, performances, and food get people moving busily about. The events accompanying such festivals are all about the same, too. Cities themselves are all about the same. They're places with tall buildings, a great number of people, polluted air, and all kinds of noises that keep you from understanding what other people are saying. In these places, people run like hares, focused on just getting ahead. A slow tortoise could never win the first place in a city. A tortoise is a tortoise, and a hare is a hare, The only chance a tortoise gets to win the first place is when the hare slacks off. Like in the fable. Fables always speak the truth. It's a shame that no hare comes to the city just to slack off.

Slow and steady wins the race' sounds good only in story books. In real life, aim to be the hare who does not stop to rest.

Yet many writers are paralyzed by the thought that they are competing with everybody else who is trying to write and presumably doing it better. This can often happen in a writing class. Inexperienced students are chilled to find themselves in the same class with students whose byline has appeared in the college newspaper. But writing for the college paper is no great credential; I’ve often found that the hares who write for the paper are overtaken by the tortoises who move studiously toward the goal of mastering the craft.