Inspirational Iceberg Quotes

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Build Icebergs, Not Skyscrapers
Miles Anthony Smith (Why Leadership Sucks™ Volume 1: Fundamentals of Level 5 Leadership and Servant Leadership)
Maybe everyone represents a piece of the puzzle. We all fit together to create this experience we call life. None of us can see the part we play or the way it all turns out. Maybe the miracles that we see are just the tip of the iceberg. And maybe we just don't recognize the blessings that come as a result of terrible things.
Amy Harmon (Making Faces)
When the management iceberg is shaped like a huge phallus, you know that there are a lot of tossers that the top penguin has had to climb over to reach the tip and that there is no shortage of the same caliber of penguin in the balls and shaft of the corporation, just waiting for their chance to get a spurt to the top. Should I sugar coat this a little more? or tell it like it is?
Daniel Prokop (Leaving Neverland: Why Little Boys Shouldn't Run Big Corporations)
Yesterday was just the tip of the iceberg of awesomeness. Things will get better. Keep smiling, don't give up just yet. Perseverance has an amazing gift for you, just wait you see.
Janna Cachola
People don’t seem to realize it that it is not like we’re on the Titanic and we have to avoid the iceberg. We’ve already hit the iceberg. The water is rushing in down below. But some people just don’t want to leave the dance floor; others don’t want to give up on the buffet. But if we don’t make the hard choices, nature will make them for u
Peter Adejimi
Me dou conta que as pessoas são como icebergs. Navegamos em meio a mares estranhos e desconhecidos, e aquilo que enxergamos quase sempre é o superficial. Nos reduzimos a acreditar na imagem evidente, fácil, quando o visível aos olhos, uma fração irrisória do todo, na verdade esconde um universo inteiro submerso.
Pedro Rhuas (Enquanto eu não te encontro)
iceberg reported ahead,behappy about titanic
Oshada
You know, you spend your childhood watching TV, assuming that at some point in the future everything you see there will one day happen to you: that you too will win a Formula One race, hop a train, foil a group of terrorists, tell someone 'Give me the gun', etc. Then you start secondary school, and suddenly everyone's asking you about your career plans and your long-term goals, and by goals they don't mean the kind you are planning to score in the FA Cup. Gradually the awful truth dawns on you: that Santa Claus was just the tip of the iceberg — that your future will not be the rollercoaster ride you'd imagined, that the world occupied by your parents, the world of washing the dishes, going to the dentist, weekend trips to the DIY superstore to buy floor-tiles, is actually largely what people mean when they speak of 'life'. Now, with every day that passes, another door seems to close, the one marked PROFESSIONAL STUNTMAN, or FIGHT EVIL ROBOT, until as the weeks go by and the doors — GET BITTEN BY SNAKE, SAVE WORLD FROM ASTEROID, DISMANTLE BOMB WITH SECONDS TO SPARE — keep closing, you begin to hear the sound as a good thing, and start closing some yourself, even ones that didn't necessarily need to be closed.
Paul Murray (Skippy Dies)
For all his faults, Leifs was a unique composer, driven by the ambition to create an Icelandic sound that might intrigue and inspire the world by bringing to life the country’s literature, landscape, and vernacular songs. His friend, the writer and diplomat Kristján Albertsson, who was unusually cognizant of the composer’s strengths and weaknesses, wrote that Leifs’s purpose had been to give Iceland “a voice among the musics of the world, to let the cool, strong gale of the Icelandic weather rush into the world’s music—and to remind ourselves who we are, what we are, can be or become if we choose to be ourselves, true to our origins and character—and not simply epigones in the world of art.” In his best works, Leifs achieved his goal. They are born of a deep personal conviction and epitomize the unique soundscape of his country: roaring ocean, erupting mountains, cracking icebergs, trembling earth.
Árni Heimir Ingólfsson (Jón Leifs and the Musical Invention of Iceland)
For all his faults, Leifs was a unique composer, driven by the ambition to create an Icelandic sound that might intrigue and inspire the world by bringing to life the country’s literature, landscape, and vernacular songs. His friend, the writer and diplomat Kristján Albertsson, who was unusually cognizant of the composer’s strengths and weaknesses, wrote that Leifs’s purpose had been to give Iceland “a voice among the musics of the world, to let the cool, strong gale of the Icelandic weather rush into the world’s music—and to remind ourselves who we are, what we are, can be or become if we choose to be ourselves, true to our origins and character—and not simply epigones in the world of art.” In his best works, Leifs achieved his goal. They are born of a deep personal conviction and epitomize the unique soundscape of his country: roaring ocean, erupting mountains, cracking icebergs, trembling earth.
Árni Heimir Ingólfsson (Jón Leifs and the Musical Invention of Iceland)
Because unconscious thoughts and muscle movements originate outside of conscious awareness, he argued, they feel alien and are readily interpreted as originating with spirits or other entities.19 The unconscious, as an “other” inside, is, when you think about it, really a very “occult” idea. Freud’s “hermeneutics of suspicion”20 naturally invited a suspicious rationalist skepticism in return. The philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, for one, could not abide an unconscious formation in the psyche. To him, it smacked of bad faith, inauthenticity, the failure to take responsibility for our actions. For instance, he pointed out the contradiction inherent in the idea of a “censor” in the mind that could be aware enough of what it was censoring to form a judgment yet also be completely alien to our conscious experience. The “resistance” that impedes patients from developing self-insight implies a similar non-aware awareness: “the patient shows defiance, refuses to speak, gives fantastic accounts of his dreams, sometimes even removes himself completely from the psychoanalytic treatment. It is a fair question to ask what part of himself can resist.”21 There is no unconscious, Sartre argued, just the avoidance of responsibility. Claims of an unconscious mind that could only be explored through a highly subjective process of interpretation also offended the philosopher of science Karl Popper, one of Freud’s harshest critics. How would you test claims about an unconscious? Psychoanalysis is not a science, Popper contended, not only because its claims cannot be falsified but also because the clinical situation, with suggestible patients in a kind of trance-like thrall to their doctor, is an echo chamber—a machine for producing evidence in support of its premises (the usual meaning of “self-fulfilling prophecy”).22 Although 20th-century psychological science and neuroscience rejected Freud (and ignored Freud’s contemporaries in psychical research), it ultimately came around to embracing some notion of an unconscious—or what came to be called “implicit processing”—as a domain of cognitive functioning that is hypersensitive to subliminal signals and much quicker at making inferences and judgments than the conscious mind. Abundant experimental evidence shows implicit processing’s overriding dominance over anything like conscious will. A large school of thought, much of it inspired by Benjamin Libet’s work described in the preceding chapter, holds that we are mere spectators of our lives and that conscious will is an illusion, a kind of overlay. If the unconscious was for Freud the submerged majority of the iceberg, for some contemporary cognitive scientists and neuroscientists, it is all submerged—the tip is a mirage. We are unaware of the bulk of what seems to occur in our heads—there is thinking, sensing, and feeling that is not thought, sensed, or felt, and our non-experience of this huge domain is much more than a matter of bad faith (although there is that also). As with Freud’s unconscious, you can only probe the implicit domain indirectly, obliquely, via tools and paradigms such as priming tasks, like the ones Daryl Bem inverted in some of his “feeling the future” experiments.
Eric Wargo (Time Loops: Precognition, Retrocausation, and the Unconscious)
True slavery begins in the mind. Change of paradigm, perception or mentality. What we see on the physical plane is just the tip of the iceberg.
Mwanandeke Kindembo
No hay mayor belleza en el mundo que la naturaleza viva en armonía con el ser pensante. Somos una raza especial, no por lo que sabemos o podemos hacer, sino por la suerte que tenemos de vivir en un mundo como este…
Guillermo Ávila Colina (Puntas de Iceberg: Cuentos (Spanish Edition))
LESSON 1: The Art of Commitment LESSON 2: From Difficult Situations, We Become Excellent LESSON 3: Questions Are Answers in Disguise LESSON 4: THE ICEBERG . . . Go for Deeper Meanings in Life LESSON 5: Staying Open-Minded LESSON 6: Health Is Better Than Wealth LESSON 7: Embrace Change or Become Stagnant LESSON 8: Determination LESSON 9: The *F* Word to Make You Rich LESSON 10: Role Model... The Father, Husband and Family Man LESSON 11: Some Excellent Traits for Your Career LESSON 12: It Is How You End It LESSON 13: The One-Size-Fits-All Cure...Meditation LESSON 14: The Mantra If All Else Fails CONCLUSION ONE LAST THING OTHER BOOKS
Ethan Ang (Lee Kuan Yew: Inspiring Life Changing Habits Of LKY)
Maybe there is a bigger purpose, a bigger picture that we only contribute a very small piece to. You know, like one of those thousand piece puzzles? There's no way you can tell by looking at one piece of the puzzle what the puzzle is going to look like in the end. And we don't have the picture on the outside of the puzzle box to guide us.” “Maybe everyone represents a piece of the puzzle. We all fit together to create this experience we call life. None of us can see the part we play or the way it all turns out. Maybe the miracles that we see are just the tip of the iceberg. And maybe we just don't recognize the blessings that come as a result of terrible things.
Amy Harmon (Making Faces)
J'ai de plus en plus, l'obsédante impression d'écrire pour les rescapés du futur : l'immense iceberg se profile à l'horizon, qui va croiser notre navire entouré de brume. Il y a quelques années encore, on pouvait croire à une organisation de combat ouverte et officielle, à la vertu immédiate de l'information, de la polémique, voire au vote pour tenter d'édifier un barrage contre le pire. C'est fini, aujourd'hui. D'ici une trentaine d'années, la plupart des matériaux indispensables à la continuité de notre civilisation industrielle vont manquer irréductiblement ; les riches sols d'Europe commencent à s'appauvrir sous l'effet de l'agriculture industrielle, et la pollution marine s'accumule, catastrophe après catastrophe, de marée noire en marée noire ; le Tiers Monde se désertifie et la famine y galope comme jadis les pestes ; le choix nucléaire va couvrir le monde de nos enfants d'un semis de pyramides obligatoirement épaissies tous les 25 ans à cause de leur danger radioactif, grâce à un matériau énergétique qui disparaîtra complètement à la veille de l'an 2000. Ce n'est pas un tableau poussé au noir ; c'est à peine un survol. Et vous croyez encore échapper à la catastrophe ? Si l'homme ne disparaît pas, victime de sa propre connerie, de sa pathologie du Pouvoir et de son sexisme, s'il reste, comme je veux le croire, des rescapé(e)s du Futur aux couleurs d'Apocalypse, peut-être quelques écrits comme celui-ci n'auront pas été tout à fait futiles. Si seulement, dès aujourd'hui, les femmes s'unissaient pour de bon ! Oui, si les femmes, les jeunes femmes d'aujourd'hui prenaient subitement conscience que le féminisme, c'est beaucoup plus que le féminisme, et que le cri le plus radicalement vrai est le féminisme ou la mort !
Françoise d'Eaubonne (Contre violence: ou La résistance à l'État)
Still, parents felt a bit awkward. “You don’t share food, except with your children” was a very, very old and established tradition. So the inspired youngsters made it clear that they would be extremely embarrassed unless (1) their parents came to Heroes Day, and (2) each mother and father brought two fish as the cost of admission. As soon as a few parents relented, announcing that they would be bringing fish, others decided they must also. Social pressure works as well in penguin colonies as in human colonies.
John P. Kotter (Our Iceberg Is Melting: Changing and Succeeding Under Any Conditions)
What happened to you?” Monica accused over a tray of leafy greens. “What?” Joy said. “Nothing.” “Well, that nothing has you eating your salad with a spoon.” Embarrassed, Joy switched utensils, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting her fingers linger there. She grinned again. “I’m just thinking,” she said, poking the lettuce, “about stuff.” “Thinking stuff.” Monica nodded and chewed. “Sounds dangerous.” “Not yet,” Joy chirped. Monica slapped both hands on her tray, “Okay, that’s it— spill.” “What?” “What ‘what?’ Don’t give me ‘what’ and expect me not to ask ‘what?’” Monica pointed her fork at Joy’s nose. “You’ve been a total nut job ever since that night at the Carousel, and what with breaking windows and random notes and skipping off after school, you think I don’t know there’s a ‘what?’” Monica sounded angry, which was her protective-sisterhood thing. Joy tried not to laugh. “Is it drugs?” Monica hissed over her salad. “Because if it’s drugs, so help me, I will beat your sorry pale pink butt from here to next Thursday. I will call your dad, I will call the cops and I will even call Gordon and cancel our date!” “Whoa.” Joy waved a napkin in surrender. “It’s not drugs. No drugs. I swear. Remember? No Stupid,” Joy said, but had to add, “But there is a someone.” “A someone?” “A someone.” “A guy?” Joy rolled her eyes. “Yes, a guy. There’s a guy. I like guys.” Monica pursed her lips. “There’s a guy and you like guys and you met a guy, this Someone-A-Guy?” Joy prodded her lunch, picking at the crust of her sandwich. “There’s a guy and I don’t know what I think about him. I’m just…thinking about him. A lot.” “Mmm,” Monica said noncommittally. “So does this guy have a name?” Joy considered the question. “Yes.” “Yes?” Monica prompted with a wave of speared iceberg lettuce. “And?” “And there’s not much to talk about.” Joy shrugged and took a wide bite of sandwich, filling her mouth. She couldn’t decide whether Indelible was his first name or Ink, but neither sounded particularly normal. As opposed to Gordon Wiener-Schnitzel. Still, it was a subject best avoided. “Uh-huh.” Monica joined Joy in a long bout of chewing. They exchanged glances and evasions like fencing partners until Monica swallowed. “Okay,” she said. “So, this mysterious Someone-A-Guy that you can’t stop thinking about— would I, as your best friend, theoretically speaking, give him a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down?” Two thumbs down, definitely, for mysteryguywhostabbedmeintheeye. Joy swallowed. “He’s not your type,” she said diplomatically. “But he’s your type?” Monica said. “And, what is your type, exactly?” “He’s…” Joy stumbled, trying to find the words. “Exciting. Intellectual. A little sad, which can be sweet.” The flash in her eye inspired her. “He’s an artist.” “An artist?” Monica sneered around cukes. “Please do not tell me that you’re going to go all emo on me. That’s worse than drugs.
Dawn Metcalf (Indelible (The Twixt, #1))
Q: What does Olaf eat for lunch? A: Icebergers.
THE CLOWN FACTORY (Frozen Jokes for Kids: The Funniest Frozen Inspired Jokes)
La gente juzga muy pronto a los demás sin conocerlos. Juzgan su presente y su pasado, pero muchas veces las sonrisas esconden un gran dolor. Lo que la gente muestra al mundo solo es una minúscula parte del iceberg que se oculta a la vista. Y es mucho más probable que ese iceberg esté lleno de grietas y cicatrices que surjan de lo más hondo del alma.
Sherrilyn Kenyon (Acheron (Dark-Hunter, #14))