Hustle Hard Quotes

When two people meet and fall in love, there's a sudden rush of magic. Magic is just naturally present then. We tend to feed on that gratuitous magic without striving to make any more. One day we wake up and find that the magic is gone. We hustle to get it back, but by then it's usually too late, we've used it up. What we have to do is work like hell at making additional magic right from the start. It's hard work, but if we can remember to do it, we greatly improve our chances of making love stay.

Chapter 1. He adored New York City. He idolized it all out of proportion...no, make that: he - he romanticized it all out of proportion. Yeah. To him, no matter what the season was, this was still a town that existed in black and white and pulsated to the great tunes of George Gershwin.' Uh, no let me start this over. 'Chapter 1. He was too romantic about Manhattan, as he was about everything else. He thrived on the hustle bustle of the crowds and the traffic. To him, New York meant beautiful women and street-smart guys who seemed to know all the angles...'. Ah, corny, too corny for my taste. Can we ... can we try and make it more profound? 'Chapter 1. He adored New York City. For him, it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture. The same lack of individual integrity that caused so many people to take the easy way out was rapidly turning the town of his dreams in...' No, that's going to be too preachy. I mean, you know, let's face it, I want to sell some books here. 'Chapter 1. He adored New York City, although to him it was a metaphor for the decay of contemporary culture. How hard it was to exist in a society desensitized by drugs, loud music, television, crime, garbage...' Too angry, I don't want to be angry. 'Chapter 1. He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Behind his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat.' I love this. 'New York was his town, and it always would be.

Finnik?” I say. “Maybe some pants?”
He looks down at his legs as if noticing them for the first time. Then he whips of his hospital gown, leaving him in just is underwear. “Why? Do you find this”-he strikes a ridiculously proactive pose-“distracting?”
I can’t help laughing because it’s funny, and it’s extra funny because Boggs looks so uncomfortable, and I’m happy because Finnik actually sounds like the guy I met at the Quarter Quell.
“I’m only human, Odair.” I get in before the elevator doors close. “Sorry,” I say to Boggs.
“Don’t be. I thought you… handled that well,” He says. “Better than my having to arrest him, anyway.”
 
Fulvia Cardew hustles over an makes a sound of frustration when she sees my clean face. “All that hard work, down the drain. I’m not blaming you, Katniss. It’s just that very few people are born with camera-ready faces. Like him.” She snags Gale, who’s in a conversation with Plutarch, and spins him towards us. “Isn’t he handsome?”
Gale does look stricking in the uniform, I guess. But the question just embarrasses us both Given our history. I’m trying to think of a witty comeback when Boggs says brusquely, “Well don’t expect us to be too impressed. We just saw Finnick Odair in his underwear.

Work was intended not to give a man a reason to live, but rather to give him a means to live.

Basketball Rule #2 (random text from Dad) Hustle dig Grind push Run fast Change pivot Chase pull Aim shoot Work smart Live smarter Play hard Practice harder

I want the peace in knowing that is wasn’t for lack of hustling that I missed a target for my dream. I want to know that the one thing in my control was under control.

Some roses grow through concrete. Remember that.

As a new entrepreneur, you're probably gonna have to hustle hard to get things going at first. And you gotta be comitted to that hustle until it's not necessary anymore.

As a new entrepreneur, you're probably gonna have to hustle hard to get things going at first. And you gotta be committed to that hustle until it's not necessary anymore.

As a new entrepreneur, you're probably gonna have to hustle hard to get things going at first. But as the business grows and becomes more established, that unrefined hustle should be replaced by automated profit-producing processes and systems. Hustle is good as a temporary mode of operating, but it's unsustainable long term and unprofitable long term.

Reacher liked New York more than most places. He liked the casual indifference of it all and the frantic hustle and the total anonymity.

maybe the cure for any burnout is to work harder.

Choose to hustle now, to work hard now, to make all the sacrifice now. So that you can enjoy your tomorrow. Whatever it is that you suppose to do now. If you don't do it now, it will affect you badly for the rest of your life.

Astray from a deep sleep chronic as I write by phonics, like insomnia I will always live the onyx night for revealing, and, upon it, still I'll steal the bright light of day right away just to keep building at speeds hypersonic.

A good work ethic is not so much a concern for hard work but rather one for responsibility. There have been a great many men and women who have in fact used work or hustle or selfish ambition as an escape from real responsibility, an escape from purpose. In matters such as these, the hard worker is just as dysfunctional as the sloth.

Mass schooling damages children. We don’t need any more of it. And under the guise that it is the same thing as education, it has been picking our pockets just as Socrates predicted it would thousands of years ago. One of the surest ways to recognize real education is by the fact that it doesn’t cost very much, doesn’t depend on expensive toys or gadgets. The experiences that produce it and the self-awareness that propels it are nearly free. It is hard to turn a dollar on education. But schooling is a wonderful hustle, getting sharper all the time.

extremely serious about the value of hard work. I believe it creates not only success but happiness, too. You can never feel satisfied if you’re not applying yourself to something you’re passionate about.

If you're not a smart worker, it's about how hard you work double the amount from the heart; if you're not a hard worker, it's about how smart you work but times two from the brain.

Be fearless. Most people run from what they’re afraid of. I run toward it. That doesn’t mean I think I’m bulletproof (I’ve learned the hard way that I’m not) or that I’m unaware of danger. I experience fear as much as the next man. But one of the greatest mistakes people can make is becoming comfortable with their fears. Whatever is worrying me, I meet it head-on and engage it until the situation is resolved. My refusal to become comfortable with fear gives me an advantage in almost every situation.

The hardest chore to do, and to do right, is to think. Why do you think the common man would choose labor, partially, as a distraction from his own thoughts? It is because that level of stress, he most absolutely abhors.

the greatest story ever told is of a God who so loved the world that he chose to suffer for it. We’ll see what we can’t see when we’re busy searching for the purpose in our pain or hustling hard to prove how valuable we are for God’s kingdom. Suffering has always been God’s means of rousing a sleeping world with his love.2

Never accept yourself as a finished product. Be a finished product when you die. As long as you have breath in your lungs, expand yourself.

When work isn’t done properly, it ruins all the energy and effort put into it. Improper work doesn’t bring any outcomes. If any, mostly the bad ones.

If it comes easy, it will go fast.

When the results are not there, work. When the results are there, work.

HUSTLE HARD!

One of my dinner companions invited me on a strip-club excursion. I demurred, spoiled by the erotic revues of Anhedonia, where the performers remain fully clothed but get emotionally naked, delivering monologues about their top-shelf disappointments, and times when they were almost happy. Hard to enjoy American-style strip clubs after that. Once you go bleak, you never go back.

One of the biggest problems with our current model of leadership is that it confuses confidence with competence. Forget actually being good at your job: bluster, lofty promises and unwavering self-belief will get you anywhere! Self-help culture has contributed to our fetishization of confidence. It’s entrenched the idea that if you just believe deeply enough and hustle hard enough, you can do anything. Even something you’re completely unqualified for.

I began to consider, upon the thought of "permanently" relocating, everything New York had made me. When I arrived, I was like a half-carved sculpture, my personality still and undefined image. But the city wears you down, chisels away at everything you don't need, streamlines your emotions and character until you are hard cut, fully defined, and perfect like a Rodin sculpture. That is something truly wonderful, the kind of self-crystallyzation not available in any other city. But then, if you stay too long, it keeps on wearing you down, chipping away at traits you cherish, character that you've earned. Stay forever, and it will grind you down to nothing.

Don't give up on your goal for the little bit of comfort. Grow. Jump. Hustle.

Hustling was an important part of success. Innate talent was important, but it was nothing compared to the hard work that went into something.

You don’t need to dig into unnecessary things and overwhelm yourself with information that doesn’t matter. It only makes you confused and worried.

This illusion of work is fatal. It wastes your time, makes you think that you’re doing something worthy when you’re not, and doesn’t do any favour to you.

It’s alright if you aren’t able to keep up with all the advice you get. You can’t become a superman overnight. We’re all imperfect and take some time inculcate new habits.

A simple plan can be more than enough to set things right for you.

If our society remember the iconic people by they hard work and self effort impacting our community, so I can consider myself as one of them because you will remember how hard I've been working to make it till there.

Friend of yours?” Priss asked. He turned on her so fast, she jumped back a foot. “You don’t look happy,” Priss noted. What an understatement. “It was just a question. Don’t implode or anything, okay?” He fumed quietly, and even in his rage, he looked self-possessed. “Under no circumstances will you provoke that woman. Do you understand me?” Intrigued by the warning, Priss tried to see around him to wherever the woman had gone. He didn’t allow it. His big, hard hand clasped her face, none too gently. “She will slit your throat and smile while doing it. And no one here will stop her. Do you understand me?” “Uh . . .” It wasn’t easy to speak with the way he smooshed her cheeks, but she felt compelled to point out, “You stopped her.” “This time.” He leaned down, close enough to kiss her, but his eyes said he had far from affectionate gestures on his mind. “I won’t always be around.” “Duly noted. Now you can stop abusing my face.” He released her and she worked her jaw. “Jerk. I bruise easy.” His eye did that interesting twitching thing again before he grabbed her elbow and hustled her forward.

Instead of trying to hustle our way to safety, we should do what Mitsuru Kawai did—refusing to compete on the machines’ terms, and focusing instead on leaving our own, distinctively human mark on the things we’re creating. No matter what our job is, or how many hours a week we work, we can practice our own version of monozukuri, knowing that what will make us stand out is not how hard we labor, but how much of ourselves shows up in the final product. In other words, elbow grease is out. Handprints are in.

Hustling for Your Worth When people don’t understand where they’re strong and where they deliver value for the organization or even for a single effort, they hustle. And not the good kind of hustle. The kind that’s hard to be around because we are jumping in everywhere, including where we’re not strong or not needed, to prove we deserve a seat at the table. When we do not understand our value, we often exaggerate our importance in ways that are not helpful, and we consciously or unconsciously seek attention and validation of importance. We put more value on being right than on getting it right. It creates franticness instead of calm cooperation.

You know what your mum might be?' 'You're not really asking, are you? This is rhetorical, isn't it?' 'A real life desperate housewife. Maybe your mum's hooking and she -' "What are you, drunk? There's a five-year-old in the back seat. And, PS, you're not helping. All she said is that she's at the station. Not in jail. Now, I don't want to talk anymore about it. Mark and I spend the remainder of the car trip in silence. Emma, on the other hand, takes it upon herself to sing every verse of It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp. Next chance I get I'm gonna confiscate her copy of Hustle and Flow and change her computer password from GEELOVE to MONOBROW. - Cat

What if you aren’t ready to launch? Well, you’re hardly ever fully ready . . . so here’s a trick. Go ahead and publish your offer, but add the label “beta” to it. You could also call it “early version” or any other phrase that sounds good. Doing so will allow you to continue working on it while also getting real feedback, and hopefully some sales as well.

Too often, artists who think it was “inspiration” or “pain” that fueled their art and create an image around that—instead of hard work and sincere hustle—will eventually find themselves at the bottom of a bottle or on the wrong end of a needle. The same goes for us, whatever we do. Instead of pretending that we are living some great story, we must remain focused on the execution—and on executing with excellence. We must shun the false crown and continue working on what got us here. Because that’s the only thing that will keep us here.

They came to Virginia City as soon as the true value of the Comstock was perceived. They constituted, no doubt, a deplorable source of gambling, pleasure and embroilment. They were not soft-spoken women, their desire was not visibly separate from the main chance, and they would have beheld Mr. Harte’s portrayal of them at Poker Flat with ribald mirth. But let them have a moment of respect. They civilized the Comstock. They drove through its streets reclining in lacquered broughams, displaying to male eyes fashions as close to Paris as any then current in New York. They were, in brick houses hung with tapestries, a glamour and a romance, after the superheated caverns of the mines. They enforced a code of behavior: one might be a hard-rock man outside their curtains but in their presence one was punctilious or one was hustled away. They brought Parisian cooking to the sagebrush of Sun Mountain and they taught the West to distinguish between tarantula juice and the bouquet of wines. An elegy for their passing. The West has neglected to mention them in bronze and its genealogies avoid comment on their marriages, conspicuous or obscure, but it owes them a here acknowledged debt for civilization.

We crossed the street and we walked on, toward the van, all the way, and the front doors opened, both together, fast and smooth, unlatched when we were close, and then opened when we were closer still. Two guys climbed out. The one on the sidewalk pivoted slowly, while his partner hustled around the hood. Same sweep, different speeds. Some kind of a synchronized move, no doubt perfected by long practice. Both guys were in dark suits under black raincoats. Both were white. Or pink, to be accurate. Chapped, like they’d had a long hard winter. Both were shorter than me, but not much lighter. Both had big, knuckley hands, and cords of muscle in their necks.

Think Different was a slogan used by Apple in 1997.6 Part of the campaign included a commercial known as The Crazy Ones. The narration goes like this:   Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.   It’s easy to dismiss this campaign as grandiose, hyperbolic, and idealistic. But it’s not. Big changes are usually the result of a bunch of little changes strung together. That’s how big changes happen. Thinking differently doesn’t guarantee we’ll change the world, but it gives us a better chance. And any change we bring about could potentially sow the seeds of a bigger change in the future. Don’t trivialize your impact. Most of us don’t think beyond what we know, or what’s expected of us. It’s hard to think different. But if we train ourselves to do it, it starts to come naturally.

I believe that social media, and the internet as a whole, have negatively impacted our ability to both think long-term and to focus deeply on the task in front of us. It is no surprise, therefore, that Apple CEO, Steve Jobs, prohibited his children from using phones or tablets—even though his business was to sell millions of them to his customers! The billionaire investor and former senior executive at Facebook, Chamath Palihapitiya, argues that we must rewire our brain to focus on the long term, which starts by removing social media apps from our phones. In his words, such apps, “wire your brain for super-fast feedback.” By receiving constant feedback, whether through likes, comments, or immediate replies to our messages, we condition ourselves to expect fast results with everything we do. And this feeling is certainly reinforced through ads for schemes to help us “get rich quick”, and through cognitive biases (i.e., we only hear about the richest and most successful YouTubers, not about the ones who fail). As we demand more and more stimulation, our focus is increasingly geared toward the short term and our vision of reality becomes distorted. This leads us to adopt inaccurate mental models such as: Success should come quickly and easily, or I don’t need to work hard to lose weight or make money. Ultimately, this erroneous concept distorts our vision of reality and our perception of time. We can feel jealous of people who seem to have achieved overnight success. We can even resent popular YouTubers. Even worse, we feel inadequate. It can lead us to think we are just not good enough, smart enough, or disciplined enough. Therefore, we feel the need to compensate by hustling harder. We have to hurry before we miss the opportunity. We have to find the secret that will help us become successful. And, in this frenetic race, we forget one of the most important values of all: patience. No, watching motivational videos all day long won’t help you reach your goals. But, performing daily consistent actions, sustained over a long period of time will. Staying calm and focusing on the one task in front of you every day will. The point is, to achieve long-term goals in your personal or professional life, you must regain control of your attention and rewire your brain to focus on the long term. To do so, you should start by staying away from highly stimulating activities.

The day-to-day horror of writing gave me a notion of tournament time. Writing novels is tedious. When will this book be finished, when will it reveal its bright and shining true self? it takes freakin’ years. At the poker table, you’re only playing a fraction of the hands, waiting for your shot. If you keep your wits, can keep from flying apart while those around you are self-destructing, devouring each other, you’re halfway there. … Let them flame out while you develop a new relationship with time, and they drift away from the table. 86-7 Coach Helen’s mantra: It’s OK to be scared, but don’t play scared. 90 [During a young adult trip to Los Vegas] I was contemplating the nickel in my hand. Before we pushed open the glass doors, what the heck, I dropped it into a one-armed bandit and won two dollars. In a dank utility room deep in the subbasements of my personality, a little man wiped his hands on his overalls and pulled the switch: More. Remembering it now, I hear a sizzling sound, like meat being thrown into a hot skillet. I didn't do risk, generally. So I thought. But I see now I'd been testing the House Rules the last few years. I'd always been a goody-goody. Study hard, obey your parents, hut-hut-hut through the training exercises of Decent Society. Then in college, now that no one was around, I started to push the boundaries, a little more each semester. I was an empty seat in lecture halls, slept late in a depressive funk, handed in term papers later and later to see how much I could get away with before the House swatted me down. Push it some more. We go to casinos to tell the everyday world that we will not submit. There are rules and codes and institutions, yes, but for a few hours in this temple of pure chaos, of random cards and inscrutable dice, we are in control of our fates. My little gambles were a way of pretending that no one was the boss of me. … The nickels poured into the basin, sweet music. If it worked once, it will work again. We hit the street. 106-8 [Matt Matros, 3x bracelet winner; wrote The Making of a Poker Player]: “One way or another you’re going to have a read, and you’re going to do something that you didn’t expect you were going to do before, right or wrong. Obviously it’s better if you’re right, but even if you’re wrong, it can be really satisfying to just have a read, a feeling, and go with it. Your gut.” I could play it safe, or I could really play. 180 Early on, you wanted to stay cool and keep out of expensive confrontations, but you also needed to feed the stack. The stack is hungry. 187 The awful knowledge that you did what you set out to do, and you would never, ever top it. It was gone the instant you put your hands on it. It was gambling. 224

In 1991, a college sophomore studying music in the American Midwest made the mistake of selling some drugs to the wrong person. Until then, he hadn’t done much more than smoke pot and sell some of it to his friends. Petty vandalism at his high school was as high stakes as his criminal career had been. Then, as these things tend to go when you’re just 18 years old, he tried to push the envelope and test his boundaries. He started experimenting with hard drugs like LSD. But he was naive, and the brashness of youth got the best of him. He sold some of that LSD outside his circle—to an undercover policeman. And as if his luck couldn’t get worse, like a scene out of a TV movie of the week, the judge, under pressure to make an example out of this young man, sentenced him to 6 to 25 years in prison. It’s a faceless, timeless story that transcends race, class, and region. A young kid makes a mistake that forever changes their lives and their family’s lives as well. We are all too familiar with how stories like this usually end: The kid spends their most impressionable years behind bars and comes out worse than when they went in. Life on the outside is too difficult to contend with; habits learned on the inside are too difficult to shed. They reoffend; their crimes escalate. The cycle continues. This story, however, is a little different. Because this young man didn’t go back to jail. In fact, after being released in less than 5 years on good behavior, he went on to become one of the best jazz violinists in the world. He left prison with a fire lit underneath him—to practice, to repent, to humble himself, to hustle, and to do whatever it took to make something of his life. No task was too small, no gig was too tiny, no potential fan was too disinterested for him not to give it everything he had. And he did. The story is a little different for another reason, too. That young man’s name is Christian Howes. He is my older brother.

Despite my lack of sophistication or maturity, I was headstrong. My sense of possibility and certainty made me focused. I had blinders on. I was a sprinter--there were no long-term goals, I just knew I'd run as hard as I could in any situation. I'd learned that as an adolescent, to keep moving, to not be dragged down. The best word to describe it is "scrappy." I still feel that way today. Put me in a situation and I will find my way out of it or through it, I will hustle and scramble. I hate losing. Only later do I think about how it looks from the outside, and then I get stuck in a cycle of shame or anxiety--but in the moment, I rare could see beyond it, I really could fight. I didn't think much about how it looked from the outside, or how I looked.

Despite my lack of sophistication or maturity, I was headstrong. My sense of possibility and certainty made me focused. I had blinders on. I was a sprinter--there were no long-term goals, I just knew I'd run as hard as I could in any situation. I'd learned that as an adolescent, to keep moving, to not be dragged down. The best word to describe it is "scrappy." I still feel that way today. Put me in a situation and I will find my way out of it or through it, I will hustle and scramble. I hate losing. Only later do I think about how it looks from the outside, and then I get stuck in a cycle of shame or anxiety--but in the moment, I rarely could see beyond it, I really could fight. I didn't think much about how it looked from the outside, or how I looked.

I wavered behind my terminal, bewildered, bracing myself on the desk at 2:00 a.m., splashing water on my face at 3:00 a.m., eating a chocolate bar and drinking a Red Bull at 4:00 a.m., popping into the back office to slap myself hard in the face at 5:00 a.m., greeting the early-riser guests and beginning to check out rooms at 6:00 a.m., my mouth tasting like the smell coming from the wilting and unchanged flower display at 6:05 a.m., counting the minutes at 6:06 a.m., feeling as if I’ve ruined my whole life at 6:21 a.m., dreaming about dreaming at 6:32 a.m., squinting with hatred at the sun sliding into the lobby at 6:43 a.m., thinking about absolutely nothing, my head sort of rolling around, eyes twitching and staring down the hallway at 6:51 a.m., at the end of which, next to the elevators, is the door that leads to the employee locker rooms, where my relief, hopefully, is on time and changing into uniform, then stumbling downstairs at 7:01

LEADERSHIP IS MORE THAN HARD WORK; IT IS HABITUAL WORK.

As a final tribute to Coach Wooden, let me share with you his suggestions to help build poise and confidence: The Eight Keys to Succeeding: 1.        Fear no opponent. Respect every opponent. 2.       It is the perfection of the smallest details that make big things happen. 3.       Hustle makes up for many a mistake. 4.       Be more interested in character than reputation. 5.       Be quick, but don’t hurry. 6.       Understand that the harder you work, the more luck you will have. 7.       Valid self-analysis is crucial for improvement. 8.       There is no substitute for hard work and careful planning. Failing to prepare is preparing to fail.

leadership is more than hard work; it is habitual work. It is worked out every day in the tasks we complete, the ways we approach our work, and the rhythms we nurture in our lives. It hangs on the hooks of the patterns we create, not just the success we may stumble upon.

Talent is cheaper than table salt. What separates the talented individual from the successful one is a lot of hard work.” ―Stephen King

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

We do things we don’t want to do in order to avoid doing the things we actually want to do.

Two things that have been around before us and will be after us, and while we are here you will always choose one... EXCUSES or HUSTLE

It's necessary to be slightly underemployed if you are to do something significant. Show me a thoroughly satisfied man and I will show you a failure. T. Edison Everything comes to him who hustles while he waits. T. Edison There is nothing in a caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly. Buckminster Fuller Be alone: that is the secret of invention. Be alone: that is when ideas are born. N.Tesla Deciding what not to do is as important as deciding what to do. Steve Jobs Headlines, in a way, are what mislead you, because bad news is a headline and gradual improvement is now. Bill Gates If you really look closely, most overnight successes took a long time. Steve Jobs Sometimes we stare so long at a door that is closing that we see too late the one that is open. A.G.Bell An investment in knowledge pays the best interest. B. Franklin The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead. A.Einstein That's been one of my mantras: focus and simplicity. Simple can be harder than complex. You have to work hard to get your thinking clean, to make it simple. But is's worth it in the end, because once you get there, you can move mountains. Steve Jobs We often miss opportunity because it's dressed in overalls and looks like work. T. Edison Let's go invent tomorrow instead of worrying about what happened yesterday. Steve Jobs

Benefits of Smart Watch Fitness Band Have you been so busy in- hustle hard in life that your health is getting sidelined? Yes! Then your smart lifestyle needs smart choices like a fitness band on your wrist. Incorporate your health with daily activities and monitor your fitness level. Today these bands are filled with exciting features like step count, heart rate, sleep meter, calories burn etc. –these small wearable gadgets have made tracking your fitness easier than ever, helping you lead a healthier and fitter life. So let’s come down to the benefits of fitness bands. Why it’s time to upgrade from simple watches to smart ones. Your all-Rounder Fitness Companion. Track and monitor almost all your activities like heart rate, calories burn, step counts, blood pressure meter etc. HAMMER’s fitness trackers include all these features along with automatic sleep status monitoring. It will tell your sleep time, awake time, deepness and lightness of sleep. Basically it will give you all the data you need to make informed decisions about your health. You can alter your habits accordingly and lead a better lifestyle. Hammer Pulse Smart Watch for Body Temperature Daily Visual Progress of your Hard Work Smart Watch fitness bands can help you track numerous activities throughout the day. Seeing results of your effort is instant motivation booster. It motivates you to do more. With an LED Color HD display it shows you how much active you have been throughout the day. On days when laziness takes a toll on you– it reminds you to workout and be active. It helps you to push a little harder than before and excel in your workout regimes! Can be as Tough as you They are waterproof and dust resistant which makes it suitable for intense training as it won’t slip because of sweating and can be easily cleaned after workout sessions. They can be switched into different modes like freestyle walking, running, swimming and much more as per your requirements. Sweat in Style Who said you can’t train hard in style? Fashionable and light as feather design built, available in color varieties sets easily on your wrist. Either trendy sports wear or formals these fitness trackers just never go out of style. Hey, what’s up? Stay updated Just Synchronize your phone with your fitness band and receive phone calls, messages, notifications or share your progress on social media or with friends. Hammer Pulse Smart Watch Get set and go ! No matter how long your day was- they won’t ditch you. Lasts up to 24-36 hours after one charge. Hammer Pulse smart watchhas gone an extra mile and gives 7 Days battery backup with wireless charging . No wire No worry! No need to Squeak or Squeal, Pocket Friendly Price Gone are those days when you had to compromise on some features as per your price range. HAMMER offers all the features in products at really affordable prices. You get more at less here – witches say it’s to grab the deal magical prices. Health is Priority! smart watch for body temperature In these times when being healthy should be our priority. HAMMER has launched a new unisex smart watch Hammer Pulse which is best of both – a fashionable watch and an ultimate fitness tracker. It is packed with all the features of fitness band and unique features like ● Body temperature monitor ● oxygen saturation level monitor ● Weather updates ● Multiple sports modes ● IP67 waterproof- don’t be afraid to get wet. ● 24/7 monitor, vibrates and alert when any irregularities or abnormality is detected. So what are you waiting for? Get the benefits of a fitness tracker today and start working towards your dream body. You want it, you get it here at HAMMER. Browse, Shop and add a healthy addition to your daily life. Up your game and get your hands on one of these today !

Stay in your own lane, hustle hard, and use your service as a way to add value to the community.

Most of us don’t add fun to our goals. Have you ever asked that question about any goal you’ve ever undertaken? At work, did a boss lay out the strategy for the third quarter and then say, “Bear in mind, this has to be fun!” If you’ve ever made a New Year’s resolution, did you make sure it was fun? Was that a prerequisite? Was that something you planned for? Fun isn’t part of the language we use when it comes to hard work, hustle, or discipline. But this is another example of going on offense against perfectionism. If we can short-circuit its wires by saying fun is actually important, we are more likely to finish the task.

Of all living things, Man is the only one who does worry. From the minute he born he have to start hustling for food, clothes and shelter, and he hardly live a few years before he have to begin to worry about death. And in them few years, think of all the contention and bafflement and the fights and arguments and struggles and hardships and sorrows. So really speaking, if it have fellars who seem to be breezing through life without a care, you have to say good luck to them. If a fellar could afford to laugh skiff-skiff at something what making you cry, how could you blame him? You wish you could of laugh yourself! It have great philosophers who wish they was like that, who wish they haven't to bother with the international situation, what happening behind the Iron Curtain, what going on in the Middle East, if it going to be a labouring year or a conservative year in the old Brit'n.

The key insight in the stories of Homobiles or Tinder is—how do you find a problem where the hard side of a network is engaged, but their needs are unaddressed? The answer is to look at hobbies and side hustles.

A student with a strong internal locus of control, for instance, will attribute good grades to hard work, rather than natural smarts. A salesman with an internal locus of control will blame a lost sale on his own lack of hustle, rather than bad fortune.

being around that sort of energy. Someone with a strong passion stance, on the other hand, will really dig in. Get their feet planted and shoulders squared up. So no matter how hard the world pushes back, or how much negativity gets thrown their way, they ain’t budging an inch. That’s the sort of energy I want to work with. The type of people I’m willing to put my money behind. A strong passion stance is what separates the hustlers who win

Of all living things, Man is the only one who does worry. From the minute he born he have to start hustling for food, clothes and shelter, and he hardly live a few years before he have to begin to worry about death. And in them few years, think of all the contention and bafflement and the fights and arguments and struggles and hardships and sorrows. So really speaking, if it have fellars who seem to be breezing through life without a care, you have to say good luck to them. If a fellar could afford to laugh skiff-skiff at something what making you cry, how could you blame him? You wish you could of laugh yourself! It have great philosophers who wish they was like that, who wish they haven't to bother with the international situation, what happening behind the Iron Curtain, what going on in the Middle East, if it going to be a labouring year or a conservative year in the old Brit'n.

I wake up and grind like the whole world owes me money. I'm taking that money like I'm owed.

Life is given to all of us and everything that you want to become depends now on your preparation, hard work, and dedication. Only if you are willing to put yourself in process of grinding, hustle, and hard work then there will be a point in life where the opportunity KNOCKS on your door to give you a chance. A chance you always waited for and an opportunity you always wanted to have for yourself so you take yourself on to the path of greatness. You are close to success and succeeding in yourself only when you take charge, take action and make decisions for yourself. No one in this world has become great just by doing average things and being average. The people who go the extra mile, extra effort, and that extra one thing in their life makes them successful and lets them avail themselves of the opportunity that knocks on the door. If you are blind to yourself then you can't see opportunities. You are one opportunity away from success and the life you are dreaming but the question is, are you prepared?

Getting a good look at him… he was huge. Like literally massive. Was that normal? Was he on steroids? “Hey, friend,” I said. “Wait here a second, okay? We’ll get you some help.” He didn’t respond, obviously. Why my heart started beating faster though, I really didn’t get. Never mind, I guess I did. I was going to have to grab this big son of a bitch. If my memory served me correctly—from all the episodes I’d seen of zoo shows and the one game warden show—you just kind of had to... grab them. Could they smell fear? Like dogs? I eyed my new friend and hoped like hell he couldn’t. Two seconds later, the door to the house burst open and Amos was out, setting a big crate down on the deck before running back inside. He was back out another second later, shoving something into his pockets and then picking up the crate again. He slowed down as he got closer to the garage and walked way around where the bird was still standing. He was breathing hard as he slowly set it down between us, then pulled out some leather gloves from his pockets and handed those over too. “This is the best I could find,” he said, eyes wide and face flushed. “You sure about this?” I slipped the gloves on and let out a shaky exhale before giving him a nervous smile. “No.” I kind of laughed from the nerves. “If I die—” That got him to roll his eyes. “You’re not doing to die.” “Make up some story about how I saved your life, okay?” He looked at me. “Maybe we should wait for my dad.” “Should we? Yeah, but are we? No, we have to get him. He should have flown off by now, and we both know it.” Amos cursed again under his breath, and I gulped. Might as well get it over with. Five minutes from now wasn’t going to change anything. My mom would’ve done it. “Okay, I can do this,” I tried to hype myself up. “Just like a chicken, right?” “You’ve picked up a chicken before?” I eyed Am. “No, but I’ve seen my friend do it. It can’t be that hard.” I hoped. I could do this. Just like a chicken. Just like a chicken. Opening and closing my hands with the big gloves on, I bounced my shoulders and moved my neck from side to side. “Okay.” I inched closer to the bird, willing my heart to slow down. Please don’t let him smell fear. Please don’t let him smell fear. “All right, love, pal, pretty boy. Be nice, okay? Be nice. Please be nice. You’re beautiful. I love you. I just want to take care of you. Please be nice—” I swooped down. Then I shouted, “Ahh! I got him! Open the crate! Open the crate! Am, open it! Shit, he’s heavy!” Out of the corner of my eye, Amos rushed over with the crate, door open, and set it on the ground. “Hurry, Ora!” I held my breath as I waddled, holding what I was pretty sure was a steroid-taking bird—who wasn’t struggling at all, honestly—and as fast as possible, set him inside, facing away from me, and Amos slammed it shut just as I got my arms out of there without getting murdered. We both jumped back and then peeked through the metal gate. He was just hanging out in there. He was fine. At least I was pretty sure he was; it wasn’t like he was making faces. I held up my hand, and Am high-fived it. “We did it!” The teenager grinned. “I’ll call Dad.” We high-fived again, pumped up. Amos hustled back inside his house, and I crouched down to look at my friend once more. He was a good hawk. “Good job, pretty boy,” I praised him. Most of all though, I’d done it! I got him in there! All by myself. How about that?

Contrary to what we have been taught to believe about religion, our heavenly Father has a heart to save and forgive rather than to punish or scold. When he forgives, he also forgets the wrong we’ve done (Hebrews 10:17). As we repent of our ways and turn from our sin, he covers over our sin. He doesn’t lose sight of who he created us to be, even on the darkest days. Our fallible minds can’t even fathom a love that doesn’t record each wrong done to it. Imagine a love that treats others according to their worth in Christ instead of the mistakes they’ve made. We are called to live in that same kind of love. We are called to model this same love and forgiveness to those who do us wrong. We are called to be living proof of God’s love. The apostle Paul wrote, “Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you” (Colossians 3:13). Listen—we live in such a broken, offended, and hurting world. We create walls and unloving boundaries with each other, especially after someone has messed up or has committed a heinous act toward us. We build walls to protect ourselves from future pain. It makes sense to respond this way because we don’t want to feel pain. But unforgiveness is poison. It hurts the one who drinks it. Love keeps no record of the wrong done to it (1 Corinthians 13:5). Imagine if we sinned against God, then came back to him with a convicted heart and he had a wall up with us. Or because we had done so much wrong, he created a boundary to protect himself from us. That sounds strange, right? Pretty hard to imagine since that is so outside of his character. Should it not sound just as strange as a behavior coming from us, since we are called to imitate him (Ephesians 5:1)? No, we are not God, but we are certainly called to love like him. In fact, it’s a commandment to love your neighbor as yourself (Matthew 22:39).

if you have a hard time explaining the primary benefit of your concept in more than a sentence or two, you may need to rethink the idea. If the primary benefit is unclear to potential customers, you won’t convert many of them into paying customers A side hustle is something that makes you money, not costs you money. If you don’t see how you could make money from the idea, preferably in a short amount of time, it’s probably not a good idea.

For a long while I contorted myself to live according to a set of old memos I'd been issued about how to become a successful woman and build a strong family, career, and faith. I thought those memos were universal Truth, so I abandoned myself to honor them without even unearthing and examining them. When I finally pulled them our of my subconscious and looked hard at them: I learned that these memos had never been Truth at all-just my particular culture's arbitrary expectations. hustling to comply with my memos, I was flying on autopilot, routed to a destination I never chose.

Don't develop feelings and emotions. They are a wastage of your time.

However hard is the soil of the sand, the flower which is supposed to sprout will sprout.

Paglia has written movingly about her days teaching Shakespeare and Sophocles to factory workers at the Sikorsky Aircraft plant outside New Have, so she could hardly endorse a solution that involves ejecting so many working-class students from college life. When you ask the average humanities professor whether too many unready students might not be getting hustled into the matriculation office, he (or, statistically, she) will often wax populist: everyone deserves a chance to contemplate the big questions of life. Such big questions are indeed the stuff of literature and philosophy. But they are also the stuff of church. Religion has historically been the place where classes below the upper middle can air their ideas about meaning and seek to integrate them with a greater tradition. The nice thing about church is, it doesn’t cost $50,000 a year.

Meritocracy means those who “merit” it are the ones who achieve it. In other words: those who deserve to get rich, get rich. At the core of these narratives, you’ll find a fallacy: We can all become billionaire entrepreneurs on the cover of Forbes, if only we pulled our socks up. If only we wanted it badly enough. If only we got up at 4 a.m. and hustled hard enough. We read articles and watch news segments about these superstar startup founders, and we read books that tell us we can all be like them if we simply get our shit together. Bullsh*t.

Ashley Fleming's face froze in a mask of indignation as the President went into a coughing spasm. Seagram nodded weakly, grabbed Dana's arm, and quickly hustled her away into the mainstream of the crowd. "Did you have to do that?" he growled. "I couldn't resist it. That woman is nothing but a glorified hooker." Then Dana's eyes looked up at him in bewilderment. "He propositioned me," she said, unbelieving. "The President of the United States propositioned me." "Warren G. Harding and John F. Kennedy were rumored to be swingers. This one is no different. He's only human." "A lecher for a President. It's disgusting." "Are you going to take him up on it?" Seagram grinned. "Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped back.

The reality is that most people of color learn early in America that we will have to work twice as hard to get half as far, and when we fail, no one will help us fall up. Immigrants, people of color, and women learn early that in order to make it in Amreeka you have to daft punk it through life. You have to do everything harder, better, faster, stronger, and smarter. Those are just the rules. The streets of Amreeka aren't paved with gold; they're paved with blood. As an immigrant, you'll take a beating but you'll be like Rick Ross and keep hustling. if Bob works eight hours a day, you work ten. If Samantha works late on Friday, then you work on Saturday. You go twenty feet just to get to ten feet.

Later, I sat down drunk on the corner of Carondelet and Canal Streets, listening for the rumble of the streetcar that would take me back uptown to my apartment, watching the evening sun bleed from the streets, the city shifting into night, when it truly became New Orleans: the music, the constant festival, the smell of late evening dinners pouring out, layering the beer-soaked streets, prostitutes, clubs with DJs, rowdy gay bars, dirty strip clubs, the insane out for a walk, college students vomiting in trash cans, daiquiri bars lit up like supermarkets, washing-machine-sized mixers built into the wall spinning every color of daiquiri, lone trumpet players, grown women crying, clawing at men in suits, portrait painters, spangers (spare change beggars), gutter punks with dogs, kids tap-dancing with spinning bike wheels on their heads, the golden cowboy frozen on a milk crate, his golden gun pointed at a child in the crowd, fortune-tellers, psycho preachers, mumblers, fighters, rock-faced college boys out for a date rape, club chicks wearing silver miniskirts, horse-drawn carriages, plastic cups piling against the high curbs of Bourbon Street, jazz music pressing up against rock-and-roll cover bands, murderers, scam artists, hippies selling anything, magic shows and people on unicycles, flying cockroaches the size of pocket rockets, rats without fear, men in drag, business execs wandering drunk in packs, deciding not to tell their wives, sluts sucking dick on open balconies, cops on horseback looking down blouses, cars wading across the river of drunks on Bourbon Street, the people screaming at them, pouring drinks on the hood, putting their asses to the window, whole bars of people laughing, shot girls with test tubes of neon-colored booze, bouncers dragging skinny white boys out by their necks, college girls rubbing each other’s backs after vomiting tequila, T-shirts, drinks sold in a green two-foot tube with a small souvenir grenade in the bottom, people stumbling, tripping, falling, laughing on the sidewalk in the filth, laughing too hard to stand back up, thin rivers of piss leaking out from corners, brides with dirty dresses, men in G-strings, mangy dogs, balloon animals, camcorders, twenty-four-hour 3-4-1, free admission, amateur night, black-eyed strippers, drunk bicyclers, clouds of termites like brown mist surrounding streetlamps, ventriloquists, bikers, people sitting on mailboxes, coffee with chicory, soul singers, the shoeless, the drunks, the blissful, the ignorant, the beaten, the assholes, the cheaters, the douche bags, the comedians, the holy, the broken, the affluent, the beggars, the forgotten, and the soft spring air pregnant with every scent created by such a town.

Sabrina surely had one dead ex-boyfriend on her record. But did Martina have a deceased ex-boyfriend in her past too? Biggie’s words swirled in my head, mixing with the reality I faced: ’Sabrina reminding me of Lil Cease with her crocodile teeth, the warpath we rode apart and together, our laughter, our tears—my tears, their laughter—the player haters, the cocaine-snorting bitches, the cats with no dough, try to play me at my show, pull up and crack doors, short-change bitches with 5 to 20 euro notes not enough to powder their beak and nose. They still tickle me, Sabrina and them midgets cripple me, make me as hard as Martina's nipples be, I'm sour like a pickle be. You disobey the rules. Now the year’s new and I want my spot back; fake two, all the planes I flew, all the bitches I went through, mothersnuggers mad, cause I’m blue, bitches envy us, too many bitches in my club guard your dogs before I stick you for your re-up, maniacs put my name in raps, living by hugs from fake friends, your whole life you live sneaky, you burn when you creep me, you slipping try to break me, living by my love, hating me, they like to hustle backward, Acid rain, Cadillac Fleetwood look what you made me do, you made me and my girl Marine blue make you, open the safe too’ Della Reese had been on my mind since a while as if she wanted to tell me something a wisdom she wanted to share with me. The lyrics and the words the bad people played mindgames with me kept mixing up in my head. ’Maniacs put my name in raps; the club is dead without me they can hustle only backwards with all the beef against me. Blunt wraps and Dutchies, all the smoking accessories; they can't touch me. One third is on me. Martina's butt a public touchy-touchy. My enemies holding their cats shaky. Sabrina is dead or alive, her ghost is under me.

Then, there’s luck through persistence, hard work, hustle, and motion. This is when you’re running around creating opportunities. You’re generating a lot of energy, you’re doing a lot to stir things up. It’s almost like mixing a petri dish or mixing a bunch of reagents and seeing what combines. You’re just generating enough force, hustle, and energy for luck to find you.

While the Indian people maintain a large standing Army they are perhaps unique in the world, in that, few of them have any understanding or experience of war. We are apt to panic or indulge in extreme emotionalism in a crisis. It is only by understanding the ramifications of war that we can resist hustling Government and the Army to undertake rash military ventures. However indignant we may be, we just cannot stop the rains or bulldoze mountain passes from our path. We cannot wish our enemies away. We cannot create dumps with a conjuror’s flourish. Military operations are cool, calculated, and deliberate actions. Haste is the enemy of military planning. These statements which are cliches in Europe and America where most adults have rendered national service, had to be learnt the hard way by us.

Hard work and hustle without information is always without good results, before doing anything, research, get information.

Self-discipline is not a rejection of pleasure but a way to embrace it. Treating our body well, moderating our desires, working hard, exercising, hustling - this is not a punishment. This is simply the work for which pleasure is the reward.

When I arrived, I was like a half-carved sculpture, my personality still an undefined image. But the city wears you down, chisels away at everything you don’t need, streamlines your emotions and character until you are hard cut, fully defined, and perfect like a Rodin sculpture. That is something truly wonderful, the kind of self-crystallization not available in any other city.

Even worse, we feel inadequate. It can lead us to think we are just not good enough, smart enough, or disciplined enough. Therefore, we feel the need to compensate by hustling harder. We have to hurry before we miss the opportunity.

They would need a logo for the app, something that instantly enticed users to download and use Picaboo. Reggie and Evan sat together and created the logo over the course of a few hours, going back and forth on ways to symbolize the disappearing nature of the app. They settled on a friendly ghost who was smiling and sticking out its tongue. Evan drew the ghost in Adobe InDesign while Reggie tossed in ideas. Reggie named the ghost Ghostface Chillah, after the Wu-Tang Clan rapper Ghostface Killah. Evan studied the hundred most popular apps in the app store and noticed that none had yellow logos. To make Picaboo stand out, he put the Ghostface Chillah logo on a bright yellow background. Reggie slapped the logo on Facebook and Twitter pages he made for the app. While Evan worked hard on the design and vision for the product and Bobby coded, Reggie contributed less. Plenty of successful Silicon Valley founders do not write code; but they play other roles, relentless hustling in the early days of their companies, dominating nontechnical jobs like marketing and user growth. Reggie simply wasn’t doing that. Having recently turned twenty-one, he wanted to enjoy the Los Angeles nightlife, and he stayed out into the wee hours of the morning. While Evan and Bobby lived the plot of Silicon Valley, Reggie was more Entourage. Evan had always remembered and valued what Clarence Carter had told him when he worked at Red Bull, “When everyone is tired and the night is over, who stays and helps out? Because those are your true friends. Those are the hard workers, the people that believe that working hard is the right thing to do.” His co-founders felt Reggie was not pulling his weight, and it was beginning to cause resentment.

Vic was referring to Blood’s death. It was a hard pill to swallow, but I had also began to think that maybe his death was meant to lead me to happiness with Smith. “True.

true success—financial, personal, and professional—lies above all in loving your family, working hard, and living your passion. In telling your story. In authenticity, hustle, and patience. In caring fiercely about the big and the small stuff. In valuing legacy over currency.

Holy hustle comes not from working ourselves to exhaustion but from excitedly working for the Lord.

Holy hustle means standing firm and taking up the space God has called you to, choosing a life of faith, even if it never brings fame.

When we strive to fix things on our own in big ways, we miss the small gifts God has set in place for us.

For pretty much my whole life, I thought I was living to better myself, to create the best life possible. About a year ago, that mindset changed. I now believe I’m here to create the best world possible. This shift from me to everyone is what altered my entire understanding of passion, and my purpose. Ben Horowitz is one of my digital mentors (meaning I follow his blog). I find him very insightful. Whenever he says (or writes about) anything, I inevitably start nodding my head until my neck is sore. Here’s an excerpt from the commencement speech he gave at Columbia, his alma mater: “Following your passion is a very me centered view of the world, and as you go through life, what you’ll find is that what you take out of the world over time—be it…money, cars, stuff, accolades—is much less important than what you put into the world. And so my recommendation would be to follow your contribution. Find the thing that you’re great at, put that into the world, contribute to others, help the world be better. That is the thing to follow." Most of the time, if you follow your contribution, it’s either already a passion, or likely to become one. Doing something you’re good at is intoxicating, as is contributing to the world. Writing and launching The Connection Algorithm was a full year of hard work. It was the result of countless hours of reflection, deeply philosophical thinking, and brutal honesty. Throughout the entire process, I felt driven, passionate, and motivated. At first, I thought this was because I was doing it on my own. But I’ve come to realize it was something else—something far more profound. Shortly after the book was released, I began receiving emails from people who had read the book and been deeply impacted by it. A highschooler in Miami. An entrepreneur in Amsterdam. A small business owner in the midwest. People were also leaving reviews on Amazon—people I didn’t know, saying the book helped them live a better life. And on my Kindle, I could see passages that people were highlighting. People weren’t just reading my book, they were taking notes on useful things to remember. The craft of writing has been unbelievably fulfilling for me. And so I’m continuing the pursuit. My motivation is no longer to make a buck, or “win at life.” Rather, I’m working to improve the world. I think of myself as an inventor, creating a new piece of art for the world to discover. When you make the world better, you get rewarded. So find your craft, and then determine the best contribution you can make with it.

Jimmy Valvano was a legendary college basketball coach and broadcaster. In June of 1992, he was diagnosed with metastatic cancer. In March of the following year, Jimmy gave a powerful speech at the first ever ESPY awards, presented by ESPN. His message was just as simple as it was moving: “Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.” Eight weeks later, he passed away. In his speech, he also said this:   To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives. Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought. And number three is, you should have your emotions moved to tears―could be happiness or joy. But think about it. If you laugh, you think, and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special.   And finally, this:   Cancer can take away all of my physical abilities. It cannot touch my mind, it cannot touch my heart, and it cannot touch my soul. And those three things are going to carry on forever.   There is no other reason to be alive than to enjoy it. So laugh, think, cry. Work hard. Celebrate your victories. Embrace the day. And don’t ever give up.

Why do some of us work hard and some of us sit on our asses all day? Dan Pink, a New York Times and Wallstreet Journal bestselling author, argues that there are three main motivators―and they’re not what you think. Money doesn’t make the list. In fact, money can be a demotivator. It turns out that once you get beyond work that only requires rudimentary cognitive skill, higher monetary rewards are inversely related to performance. Instead, emotion becomes the driving force. More specifically, Pink defines the three main motivators as autonomy, mastery, and purpose.2 This has been backed up by numerous scientific studies. Here’s one: “Psychologists Teresa Amabile and Steven Kramer interviewed over 600 managers and found a shocking result. 95 percent of managers misunderstood what motivates employees. They thought what motivates employees was making money, getting raises and bonuses. In fact, after analyzing over 12,000 employee diary entries, they discovered that the number one work motivator was emotion, not financial incentive: It’s the feeling of making progress every day toward a meaningful goal.”3 Consider what this means. If you aren’t hardworking, maybe it’s not because you’re lazy, but because you hate what you’re working on! I believe there’s a hustler in all of us. It isn’t about your genetic makeup. It’s about your environment and the emotional state in which you’re operating. If you’re having trouble getting up in the morning and going to work, there’s a good chance you’d be happier hustling. You just need to find the right thing to be hustling toward, and the right people to support you. If you had all the free time in the world, what would you want to master? What would give you a sense of purpose? What would make your heart beat a little louder? The hustle is somewhere inside you. You just have to find it and set it free.

Productivity is about working in a manner which gets you results instead of merely keeping you busy.

Everyone follows an unwritten productivity plan. Chances are, you already have one even if you don’t know about it.

When you do things to save your time, quit old habits, adapt to some methods or follow a specific pattern while working – then it’s nothing but your productivity plan at work.

A productivity plan not only makes your goals much clearer to you but also brings an end to the chaos in your life. It acts like a blueprint.