Hyatt Quotes

The essence of independence has been to think and act according to standards from within, not without: to follow one's own path, not that of the crowd.

Inevitably it follows that anyone with an independent mind must become 'one who resists or opposes an authority or established convention': a rebel. ...And if enough people come to agree with—and follow—the REBEL, we now have a DEVIL. Until, of course, still more people agree. And then, finally, we have ... GREATNESS.

The moment you stop chasing happiness, you become happy.

Freedom like charity, begins at home. No man is worthy to fight in the cause of freedom unless he has conquered his internal masters. He must learn control and discipline over the disastrous passions that would lead him to folly and ruin. He must conquer inordinate vanity and anger, self-deception, fear, and inhibition.

You life matters. You are here for a reason. Your job is to determine why.

The pages of history are red with the blood of illuminated "saints" who were murdered by their religions for actually achieving the advertised spiritual rewards.

live to the fullest or die; and die you will anyway, so start living!

You’re never as smart as you think you are when you are winning and never as dumb as you feel when you are losing.

Those who feel satisfied with their personal lives are more satisfied with their careers and perform better.

You can’t take care of anyone else unless you first take care of yourself.

The majority of problems on this planet are the result of the idea that humans are not sovereign and autonomous, but property owned by primitive Gods and incompetent governments.

You have been given a gift—your life. What will you do with it?

It isn't about how much physical weight you think you need to lose, it's about the mental weight that blocks you from loving yourself

Mental health is the ability to deny reality and repress feelings within the boundaries and parameters established by one’s peer group(s). — Christopher S. Hyatt, Ph.D.

Other than damnation I know no magic to satisfy your wishes; for ye believe one thing, desire another, speak unlike, act differently and obtain the living value.

So many of us have settled for what is, rather than what could be.

You are in a much better position to serve others when your basic needs are met and your “tank is full”.

What we believe about something often creates the outcome we experience.

One of the best questions you can ask when something negative happens is this: What does this experience make possible?

One real danger in love relationships is that most people secretly believe that they must control the love object in order to feel safe in loving and being loved. The cause of this is simple—children are made to feel that they must "give themselves up" if they are to be loved. Thus, for most humans the act of surrender has meant the loss of autonomy or worse—loss of one's own mind. Surrender is neither control nor morbid dependency and cannot be made contingent upon giving away one's "soul"; nonetheless, the person surrendering opens completely to the moment, and runs the risk of being deeply hurt. Sadly, in our society this is not uncommon and frequently serves to harden or embitter a person toward life in general. Or, on the other had being deeply hurt in the act of surrender can lead to angry and painful "cries for help." When this occurs there is an insatiable and wrathful desire to be cared for as a child is cared for and the horrid fear of loss of independence.

To love with all your heart, the heart must first be opened.

The system loves resistance. Resistance is often creative and it feeds on creativity until the subversive becomes just another pre-packaged lifestyle on special offer. So Cease to Resist. Relax and enjoy the PandaemonAeon. Believe everything and anything. Seek not proof, but take pleasure in your choice of belief. Wipe that superior sneer of your face and try smiling (if only inwardly) at the people/institutions/beliefs that you've waged your personal war against. Wouldn't it be more fun if you didn't run around quite so hard trying to be an individual, or fighting to prove or uphold your chosen belief-system?

For the man in the street, the philosophies of opposites, particularly Good and Evil, have served as a torture chamber, a crucifix made from metaphor. Thrust into a world which views him as the property of Gods and States and overwhelmed by an unrepayable debt, the metaphysics of slavery and the facts of pain, pleasure and death; bolstered by science, whose theorists have become the whores of the state, man is now informed that he is ill. The proof of this is his refusal to submit completely. The world debt is due to his saying 'no' to total slavery. He will not obey. We are at War, and man is the enemy. The question is: Who is on the other side?

Self-leadership always precedes team leadership.

We have more control than most of us realize. Each day is filled with thousands of opportunities to change the story of our lives.

You can’t get where you want to go unless you start with where you are.

Having clarity on where you want to go is one of the most critical components of your life.

Gratitude is where every positive attitude starts.

Making appointments with yourself and scheduling other things around them is key to proactive self-management.

…for no one alive is innocent. Everyone is involved in accumulating points and surviving. Thus, every act of survival is an act of destruction. Every breath destroys universes. We are all murderers.

Masturbation is pleasure without cost. So how might you make people pay?

People at any stage will profit by taking the wheel and getting pointed in the right direction.

You will never see the full path. The important thing is to do the next right thing.

Courage is the willingness to act in spite of fear.

This is the day that everything can change for you.

How we lead ourselves in life impacts how we lead those around us.

By keeping the truly important things front and center, we often get the perspective we need to make better decisions.

We can’t improve what we don’t assess.

In life, you often get what you expect.

Perfectionism is the mother of procrastination.

Watch your mouth: The language we use creates the reality we experience.

If you think the goal of life is to impress someone with your possessions or looks or intelligence or... then you are not living - - you are a circus act.

History doesn’t repeat itself, but it rhymes.

I had learned very early that not getting caught was just about the solution to every problem. If you were caught then those who hadn't yet been caught had to make an example of you, unless of course you knew the right people.

From a Christian perspective Jesus not only knew what these people needed, he could instantly heal them. But he didn’t. Instead, he asked them to declare what they wanted. It seems their apparent need was not their greatest need. More than healing, they needed clarity.

What is the workplace but somewhere where people with three times your salary and half your wit tell you what to do.

Unless we take the time to regain our perspective and face the reality that life is short, we risk arriving at a destination we didn’t choose—or at least one we wouldn’t prefer.

This is the day that can change everything for you.

In planning anything, the best place to begin is at the end. What outcome do you want? How do you want the story to end? How do you want to be remembered when you are gone?

Anything worthwhile is opposed.

What get’s scheduled gets done.

If you don’t have a plan for your life, someone else does.

For real productivity, however, we need to prioritize people. You're a human being, not a human doing.

In a world where information is freely available, focus becomes one of the most valuable commodities in the workplace.

Information consumes the attention of its recipients,” he explained, and “a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.

The search for meaning is an illusion of logic and a requirement of the middleclass for predictable breeding space.

First, psychotherapy is an art. It is not a science (the human-beings-are-laboratory-rats mentality of the behaviorist notwithstanding). A friend of mine, a philosopher of esthetics, defines art as: anything that people treat as art. So it is with psychotherapy. Any mad school that springs up and gets people to call it "psychotherapy" then becomes a "psychotherapy." But is it good psychotherapy or just mad?

To reach a port we must sail, sometimes with the wind, and sometimes against it. But we must not drift or lie at anchor. —Oliver Wendell Holmes

Without a clear destination in view, the challenges on the journey seem pointless.

Our lives are shaped by the questions we ask. Good questions lead to good outcomes. Bad questions lead to bad outcomes.

There is not point keeping up with the Joneses if they’re going someplace you don’t want to go.

Keeping your eye on the future is essential for making the most of today.

The good news is that we have more control than most of us realize. Each day is filled with thousands of opportunities to change the story of our lives.

The first step towards getting somewhere is to decide you’re not going to stay where you are. —John Pierpont “J.P.” Morgan

The law of diminishing intent says that the longer you delay doing something, the less probability you have of actually doing it.

One of the biggest reasons we don’t succeed with our goals is we doubt we can. We believe they’re out of reach.

progress starts only when you get clear on where you are right now.

If you design your life so that you spend most of your time working on things you are passionate about and proficient at, the discipline to do those things comes easily.

I can do anything I want. I just can’t do everything I want.

One speaker, Herbert Simon, was a Carnegie Mellon professor of computer science and psychology who later won a Nobel for his work in economics. In his presentation, he warned that the growth of information could become a burden. Why? “Information consumes the attention of its recipients,” he explained, and “a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention.”1

Throughout your life, you’ll meet three types of leaders. The first inspires ambition, without results. The second improves results, but ignores the spirit. In Your Best Year Ever, Michael Hyatt proves he is the rare third type of leader—one who both raises our performance and lifts our soul.” —SALLY HOGSHEAD New York Times bestselling author; creator, How to Fascinate®

The people who live and lead with the most joy and contentment are those who have clarity about their priorities. They know what they do best and fill their days with more of those activities.

To say that one goes on holiday is to speak the language of the working class, for whom the time off appears merry and playful; but to say one goes on vacation is to speak the language of the ruling class. Vacation comes from the same root as vacant and reflects what the owner sees when he looks around the floor—a vacancy where John 'should' 'be'. (I suspect that the owner probably thinks some negative thoughts about the Labor Unions and the 'damned Liberal' Government that force him to pay John even when John 'is vacant.') I leave it as a puzzle for the reader: Do the Irish and English speak Working Class in this case because they have had several socialist governments, or have the had several socialist governments because they learned to speak the language of the Working Class? And: has the U.S., alone among industrial nations, never had a socialist government because it speaks the Ruling Class language, or does it speak the Ruling Class language because it has never had a socialist government?

Proof then, has retreated in the face of belief. Science, once heralded as the arbiter of truth, has had its facade of objectivity punctured. Intellectuals may point to the uncertainty of Heisenberg, but generally this has more to do with the growing distrust of statistics and the knowledge that scientists in the pay of governments and multi-nationals are no more objective than their masters. Science, once the avowed enemy of religion, now sees books by Christian physicists and Taoist mathematicians. Science sells washing powders and status symbols and comes in the form of icons of technological nostalgia.

CHAPTER EIGHT THE DEVIL YOU SAY And the serpent was cunning above every animal of the field which Jehovah God had made. —Genesis 3:1 The great dragon, the primeval serpent, known as the devil or Satan, who had deceived all the world, was hurled down to the earth and his angels were hurled down with him. —Revelations 12:9

Served her right, really, having sex in a supply closet of the Boston Hyatt. But George had smelled like oranges and leather and he had bent her over one of those carts housekeeping wheeled around with soaps and shower caps and dry-cleaning request forms. That had been fun, and afterward she had pocketed some shampoo and conditioner.

Without lust for life, none of the rest of it made sense. Your life has to be worth living, or you're better off as pet food.

His body jerks twice as the bullets hit him. I scream, but no sound leaves my mouth. I'm frozen in pure terror.

Nothing is as it appears.

I have learned to avoid this. The goal is to communicate, not to impress readers with your vocabulary.

Jump in the air! Fall in the dirt. Just make sure no one gets hurt! Go…Moose!

One of the biggest reasons we don’t succeed with our goals is we doubt we can.

But you should resist the temptation to provide your entire bio—at least at the beginning. One or two sentences are sufficient. 5.

Jim Rohn's law of diminishing intent says that the longer you delay something, the less probability you have of actually doing it.

Anything worthwhile is opposed. Steven Pressfield (War of Art) calls this the Resistance.

Balance is giving not equal but appropriate attention to each of the various categories of your life.

By reaching for what appears to be impossible, we often actually do the impossible; and even when we don’t quite make it, we inevitably wind up doing much better than we would have done.

somewhere deep inside you realize that the dream has taken a hit. It hasn’t died, of course. But it has been dialed back—calibrated to the reality of deadlines, budgets, and limited resources. A similar process can happen for individuals who set out to create something, whether a book, a record album, or even a comedy routine. It’s easy to “settle.” At this very moment, you face a decision.

By this, I mean that the blogger starts with his or her bio, moves on to personal interests, and then (sometimes) gets to what may interest the reader. I suggest you reverse this. Start with the reader’s interests.

The undeniable reality is that how well you do in life and business depends not only on what you do and how you do it . . . but also on who is doing it with you or to you,” says psychologist Henry Cloud in The Power of the Other.

I fell asleep at nine that night and didn’t move until nine the next morning, waking up still dressed and wrapped like a pupa in the Park Hyatt’s comforter. Marlboro Man wasn’t in the room; I was disoriented and dizzy, stumbling to the bathroom like a drunk sorority girl after a long night of partying. But I didn’t look like a sorority girl. I looked like hell, pale and green and drawn; Marlboro Man was probably on a flight back to the States, I imagined, after having woken up and seen what he’d been sleeping to all night.

Original sin is now also translated into sickness, calling in a new and scientific priest craft who rush to the rescue. Man is sick, addicted, lame, and dangerous, needing constant protection and supervision by the state, insurance companies, and a never-ending parade of caring, licensed professionals. We are told over and over again that man’s illness and addictions are costing US billions. Man the slave/resource, is causing US trouble, he is interfering with OUR Plans. Man’s debt has now increased a billion-fold. Those who question the “plans” or the sanity of the metaphors in play, are diagnosed as morally unfit or mentally ill. Evil emerges as a metaphor which refers to those who refuse to accept the Plan—the prevailing Garden of Eden—created by God so She may bestow Her Love and Grace. If man refuses he must be force-fed.

I don’t believe things happen by accident. I think that everything that comes into our life, even the really hard things, are intended for good. That they can shape us positively if we’ll embrace them and remain teachable and purpose to use that almost like fertilizer to grow out of the experience.

from Wilhelm Reich, the esoteric teachings of Secret Orders and Tantric practices. We believed that this "mixture" of ancient and modern wisdom would lead to the creation of the Magickal Child and Enlightenment. The idea of creating a homunculus or a Magickal Child is ancient. The alchemists experimented with the homunculus idea for centuries. Even as late as the 1970's reports were circulated that some students of the late Frater Albertus had created life using alchemical means. I am not qualified to comment on the accuracy or validity of these reports; however, the idea of using Sexual practices for the purpose of Enlightenment and incarnating "souls" or psychic energies has been a goal of most magical orders. The idea of creating or generating a race to heal the planet and help man to evolve is a desire as old as history itself. In fact, influencing the characteristics of the foetus by incantations, prayer and other means is common. Some parents today for example use various means from

Having crossed the international date line, it was Tuesday morning when Marlboro Man and I finally checked into the Park Hyatt, nestled right on the Sydney Harbor. Starving, we feasted on a big plate of scrambled eggs from the lobby buffet before heading up to our room, which overlooked the harbor and had remote control-operated drapes and a marble bathtub just big enough for two newlyweds hell-bent on discovering every single thing about each other’s bodies that they could, as soon as humanly possible. We didn’t come up for air till Wednesday afternoon. “Let’s just stay here for the whole three weeks,” Marlboro Man said, tracing his finger along my scapula as we lay dreamily in our honeymoon bed. “I’m game,” I said, gazing at his whiskered face. Sydney was my new favorite place on earth. Marlboro Man pulled me closer, our heads nestling in each other’s necks…our legs wrapping as tightly around each other as was orthopedically possible. We were as one flesh as two people could be. There were no two ways about it.

suicide and scandal followed in his wake. The British weekly, the Sunday Referee (March 10, 1935) asked the question that over half a century later is only beginning to be answered. Who—and what—is Aleister Crowley? Around few men in contemporary life has been created such a wealth of fantastic fable and rumour as that which attaches to the name of this mysterious personality. Who indeed was this man, and why, if it were true he was guilty of so many unspeakable acts, was he never brought to justice or ever formally charged with any crime? To the modern student of Crowley, the answer to the second part of the question is simple. He was never charged with any crimes because there were no crimes to be charged with. And even if there were, to some, the magnitude and the importance of his work is such as to dwarf to insignificance an entire litany of personal flaws and excesses real or imagined. In the opinion of some of our contemporaries, Crowley was a genius of stellar magnitude. Currently his works enjoy a scrutiny and popularity that never was achieved in his

I fell asleep at nine that night and didn’t move until nine the next morning, waking up still dressed and wrapped like a pupa in the Park Hyatt’s comforter. Marlboro Man wasn’t in the room; I was disoriented and dizzy, stumbling to the bathroom like a drunk sorority girl after a long night of partying. But I didn’t look like a sorority girl. I looked like hell, pale and green and drawn; Marlboro Man was probably on a flight back to the States, I imagined, after having woken up and seen what he’d been sleeping to all night. I made myself take a warm shower, even though the beautiful marble bathroom was spinning like a top. The water hitting my back made me feel better. When I came out of the bathroom, refreshed and wearing the Park Hyatt robe, Marlboro Man was sitting on the bed, reading an Australian paper, which he’d picked up down the street along with some orange juice and a cinnamon roll for me in hopes it would make me feel better. “C’mere,” he said, patting the empty spot on the bed next to him. I obliged. I curled up next to him. Like clockwork our arms and legs began to wrap around each other until we were nothing but a mass of flesh again. We stayed there for almost an hour--him rubbing my back and asking me if I was okay…me, dying from bliss with each passing minute and trying to will away the nausea, which was still very much hovering over our happiness.

We’re reminded of a story we heard about a wise old man who lived high in the Himalayan mountains. Periodically he ventured down into the local town to entertain the villagers with his special knowledge and talents. One of his skills was to psychically tell them the contents in their pockets, boxes, or minds. A few young boys decided to play a joke on the old man and discredit his special abilities. One came up with the idea to capture a bird and hide it in his hands. He knew, of course, the man would know the object in his hands was a bird. The boy devised a plan. Knowing the wise old man would correctly state the object in his hands was a bird, the boy would ask the old man if the bird was dead or alive. If the wise man said the bird was alive, the boy would crush the bird in his hands, so that when he opened his hands the bird would be dead. But if the man said the bird was dead, the boy would open his hands and let the bird fly free. No matter what the man said, the boy would prove the old man a fraud. The following week, the man came down from the mountain into the village. The boy quickly caught a bird, cupped it out of sight behind his back, walked up to the wise old man, and asked, “What is it that I have in my hands?” The man said, “You have a bird, my son.” The boy then asked, “Tell me, is the bird alive or dead?” The wise old man looked at the boy and said, “The bird is as you choose it to be.” So it is with your life.

in this direction-and he has been dead for not more than a quarter of a century. His influence is far more subtle and indirect and yet all-pervasive than Blavatsky. James Branch Cabel's Jurgen used a number of Crowley's ideas and rituals without acknowledgment, and I fancy the current hippie bible, Robert Heinlein's A Stranger in a Strange Land, owes a very great deal to Aleister Crowley, though this too is unacknowledged. But a lot of other people are using his ideas quite freely without feeling obligated to mention his name. Crowley would not have minded this, so intent was he on shaking the foundations and the roofing of the social structure of our age. He challenged unequivocally the basic religious attitudes of our society, stressing the idea of personal experience of God through the pursuit of time-honored paths and techniques. He was also an advocate of the occasional use of the psychedelic drugs as giving one a foretaste of the kind of experience to be aimed

We have a deal.” “The hell you do!” Maria cried out, dashing into the room. She barely noticed that the others stayed behind in the hall. Nathan looked disconcerted by her appearance, and Oliver looked alarmed. “Leave this to me, Maria,” he said tersely. “The only way that scoundrel is getting your mother’s pearls,” she shot back,” is if I strangle him with them.” She marched up and snatched the box from Nathan. “Besides, you already have them to me.” “And you left them behind,” Oliver reminded her. “Gran said you refused to keep them.” “Well, I want them now.” “At the risk of being dragged through the courts?” he said, coming to her side. “Of having your name maligned by this vermin?” He lowered his voice. “Do you really want him examining every action you’ve taken in the past two weeks, having it all laid out before a judge?” She could tell he was thinking of her appearance at the brothel and the unpleasantness there, not to mention her public betrothal to him. “Let him do his worst.” She had an ace in the hole. She was about to call for Miss Kinsley when Oliver said, “Hyatt won’t let go of this matter without some financial consideration. With 125,000 pounds at stake-“ Nathan’s bark of laughter cut him off. “Is that what she’s told you her half of the company is worth, Lord Stoneville?” Nathan sneered. “Now I understand why a marquess is sniffing around her.” Oliver’s eyes turned a dangerous shade of black. He seized the man by the throat and slammed him against the wall. “I don’t give a damn what her half of the company is worth, you little worm. She could come to our marriage with nothing but the gown on her back and I wouldn’t care. She’s worth more to me than any amount of money. If you had an ounce of sense, she’d be worth more to you, too.” As Nathan clawed at Oliver’s hands, struggling for air, Maria hurried to lay her hand on Oliver’s arm. “You promised not to throttle him,” she reminded him, though she was rather enjoying it. After a second’s hesitation, he released Nathan with a look of disgust.