Inspirational Phoenix Quotes

They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can't stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that's a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!

We can't choose our fate, but we can choose others. Be careful in knowing that.

All we do is read the stupid textbook," said Ron.

I will change you like a remix, then I'll raise you like a Phoenix

Do not censor yourself. Let go of that part of your brain and just be.

Wise is the one who flavors the future with some salt from the past. Becoming dust is no threat to the phoenix born from the ash.

Breathe in, breathe out. Without the fire, the phoenix never rises from the ashes. Let the fire scorch the skin and burn the soul, allowing yourself to absorb the pain and understand the sincerity of the pain. Breathe in, you are not the past, you are not the future; breathe out, you are simply each breath, the present moment. As you breathe in and breathe out, acknowledge all the trials you have overcome thus far, and that you can continue to overcome all else without doubt. Breathe in, breathe out.

You may kill a fire. And everything you know falls to dust and ash. Yet the remarkable treasure in this seemingly hopeless pile, is hidden deep within. The burning embers incarnate the perpetual desire to go from spark to flame.

Be confident in who you are, Cherry Blossom. Confidence and an understanding of who you are is an alluring combination men won't be able to resist.

A dead eagle he might have buried, but he had chosen rather to light a fire for a phoenix.

I am pleased," he said with a rich throaty accent. My heart melted. Simple as they were, those three little words meant the world to me.

Light as feathers, as fleeting as Zephyr, one moment they breathed pink, the next they faded. Cherry blossoms were as much an inspiration for beautiful verse as they were a reminder of life's fickleness, she thought.

Have the courage to rise from the challenges of life like a phoenix from the flames or you'll get lost in the ashes of despair, pain, and regret.

Rise and rise again and again like The Phoenix from the ashes; until the lambs have become lions.

A Dom intent on developing a relationship will approach you on a personal level first.

A man who lacks honor at the start will become a Master without honor once his sub is collared.

Children bring life to the soul.

It has been said that life only gives us what we can handle. But this is not the case. Life often kills us, that's the truth. But that's how phoenixes are born.

I love the smell of a woman. It changes as her level of arousal heightens.

Harrier says the Wild Magic is as annoying as a goat. And the only other Wildmage either of us has ever met kept hitting him with a wooden spoon. Wildmages aren't like, oh - like Kellen and Idalia and Vestakia the Redeemed in The Book of the Light. They're people.' [Tiercel Rolfort]

.. any Dom who doesn't promote open communication is not developing a healthy relationship.

.. Avoid any Dom with a large ego. Do not mistake arrogance for confidence.

Socrates smile was devastating. "It's been my honor to introduce you to the woman you were meant to be.

You’re a lot braver than most of the people outside,” said Enrique. “None of them could build a bomb with their eyes closed and wander into a metal monster and still want to name it ‘David.’ Trust in yourself, Phoenix.

Socrates bit my neck, sending tingling bursts of fire down my spine. "If a Master can't make you feel this way, turn him loose. You deserve better.

Do not shy away from the sensations I create, Cherry Blossom. Take pride in them, as I do.

May the cracks in my heart be the place where I shall plant my tears which would rise in blossoms. If they hit me with stones, I’m going to throw at them flowers. As a sign of celebration. The victory of reason over ego. I’ve risen above it all, on the ashes of my old soul that, as Phoenix, found its way to light up the Universe.

All my life, I've thought myself weaker than others. But everyone has to work at being brave, don't they? Day after day, in their own way.

Even the wise appear foolish before one who brings peace to another.

Black and white is as if phoenix of colors has eloped into opacity.

Sometimes the worst circumstances make the best people.

Fairy tales are dangerous when wolves are on the prowl

I feel a deep sense of responsibility when I awaken a submissive. I know the imposters who prowl hoping to pounce on the untried.

No one is born with a talent. Talent is something we create on our own with practice and dedication.

Dance like the whole world is your stage and every day is your debut.

God layers good over the bad. It's what he does. And the more of the bad life dishes out, the more good God dishes out too. We just get so blinded--legitimately--by what hurts that we can't see the good brightening the darkness.

Sometimes what’s dead must be burned away to make room for new life. Sometimes you just have to step back and let the brittle bits ignite - but once those flames begin to dance their caustic dance, don’t you dare look the other way. Don’t close your eyes. Watch closely and let that image seer itself forever on your mind. Remember what it looked like in the midst of the soot, the smoke, and the haze. Remember, so you don’t repeat the same conditions that required such a blaze.

But then again, we all have dreams within reach, Jade thought. We have only to shape them to fit ourselves.

Bravery isn't just about being strong and handy with a sword. Sometimes it's about resolve...or deciding whether to face a past you'd rather forgot.

Be more than symbol, strength, and dream. / Be light! Inspire! Revive! / Redeem! (from Phoenix: Salvation)

Socrates held up his hands, wiggling his fingers. "God gave me these hands to change the world, one child at a time.

After a thousand years pass, it builds its own funeral pyre, lining it with cinnamon, myrrh and cassia. Climbing to a rest on the very top, it examines the world all throughout the night with the ability to see true good and evil. When the sun rises the next morning, with great sorrow for all that it sees, it sings a haunting song. As it sings, the heat of the sun ignites the expensive spices and the Phoenix dies in the flames. But the Phoenix is not remarkable for its feathers or flames. It is most revered for its ability to climb from its own funeral pyre, from the very ashes of its old charred body, as a brand new life ready to live again once more. Life after life, it goes through this cycle. It absorbs human sorrow, only to rise from death to do it all again. It never wearies, it never tires. It never questions its fate. Some say that the Phoenix is real, that it exists somewhere out there in the mountains of Arabia, elusive and mysterious. Others say that the Phoenix is only a wish made by desperate humans to believe in the continuance of life. But I know a secret. We are the Phoenix.

Harry screwed up his face and buried it in his hands.. Did this make him as arrogant as Draco Malfoy? Did he think himself superior to everyone else? Did he really believe he was better than Ron?

Here you are. Still standing. Fierce with the reality of love and loss. Wearing the truth of our hearts on your tattered sleeves. And yes, this one very nearly took you out. And yes, there were days when the darkness was heavy and the climb out of that rabbit hole required you to mine your depths for strength you didn’t even know you had. But here you are. Broken open by hope. Cracked wide by loss. Full of longing and grief and the burn of that phoenix fire. Warrior painted with ashes. Embers from the blaze still clinging to your newborn skin, leaving you forever marked with scars of rebirth. And just look at you. Heart broken but still beating. Arms empty but still open. Face raised to the sky and giving thanks for the light, even when it hurts your eyes. My god, you are beautiful.

River was a beautiful man, inside and out—too beautiful for this world, it turned out. It always seems to be the really talented guys who go down. Why is it that the original thinkers like River Phoenix and Heath Ledger die, but Keanu Reeves still walks among us? River was a better actor than me; I was funnier. But I certainly held my own in our scenes—no small feat, when I look back decades later. But more important, River just looked at the world in a different way than we all did, and that made him fascinating, and charismatic, and, yes, beautiful, but not in a Gap ad kinda way (though he was that, too)—in a there-is-no-one-else-in-the-world-like-him kind of way. Not to mention he was rocketing to stardom, yet you would never know it.

(Excerpt from) Everlasting: You can't touch hope But you can feel her Through the breath of angels And in the faces of those with hope etched in their eyes The ones that give you something to believe in once more Remember to cherish hope’s rays and her warmth As she rises through the fire As a phoenix reborn For hope springs eternal Like the shape of the rising sun And the pools of cascading gold From heavens-high As a new dawn wakes to come

Names are like selkie-skins, often carelessly attended, left in view of those who would misuse them. Utilized incorrectly, though, they can kill a man, can turn a girl to a thing of teeth and dead eyes, an appetite to devour worlds; can make infernos of maidens, phoenixes of bones who have been asleep for so long they've forgotten the shape of rage. Names have so much power.

We always emerge from the death of a loved one like a phoenix arising from its funeral pyre.

The way is a great mother, empty yet inexhaustible. She gives birth to worlds unending. Ever present within you, manifest her as you will.

Reality of Life.. When you give Importance to people, they think that you are always free. but they don't understand that you make yourself available for them everytime

Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.

Scorpio women, learn to embrace your intense and passionate nature. You are meant to feel more profoundly than the average person. You are the epitome of transformation, death, and rebirth. Rising from the ashes and exerting the divine energy of the Phoenix. You are powerful.

The day you witness wrongdoing and fail to feel compelled to do something to stop it, is the day you've lost sight of what life is all about.

A little birdie wandered into the fire and a phoenix came out.

It was, however, time to accept fear for what it was, an emotion that was preventing them from being who they needed to be.

The phoenix must burn to emerge

Peace of mind always precipitates peace on earth.

Once I rise from the ashes as a phoenix, then there will be no going back down until death do me apart with success.

It is OK not to be OK..It is ok to be tired, angry & sad..Then we reflect & decide to rise like a Phoenix!

Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young...

There's magic in everyone, it's just a matter of finding where it's hiding.

Music makes you braver.

Rise from the ashes and become the phoenix. Let your glory and wisdom keep blazing on forever. This is your chance. This is your time. Remake your life into something truly spectacular.

Even if it seems as though our lives have been reduced to ashes, hope persists. New and more powerful life is still possible. “What does not kill me makes me stronger,” declared Nietzsche with his customary indomitable defiance of misfortune. In other words, if you’re still standing, if you’ve been thrown into a crucible of struggle and you haven’t perished, then, if you did but know it, you’re much stronger than before, a person who knows how to survive. Now you need only make that inner strength explicit. Dominate the world. Don’t let the world dominate you.

Phoenix Queen: You blaze so brightly You set fire to the heart of this world. You conjure up enormous love in all you give, And keep rising from the ashes as a Phoenix queen. Some will be burned by your flame, Try to cool you, put you out, Make you think that your passion is something to doubt, But the ones that truly matter will dance with your flame, Stoke you, stroke you, And stay lit right beside you.

It's hard to explain my life; it's kind of like a mash up. When you're a kid and you think it's a good idea to mix all the paint colors and you think it's going to be awesome, but you find out it just all turns black.

You have to be strong to be a phoenix... Otherwise, you're simply dust. Stand up, shake it off. Expand your wings. I know that it hurts, but the scars are a testimony to your strength. Stay proud, stay fierce. Never surrender.

Sometimes life's lessons may not be easily labeled; and we may not understand simply because we are too close to the situation (emotionally). Bad things and tragedy strike all around us with no obvious reasons but somewhere in this "the phoenix will rise from the ashes".

Perhaps there was nothing to be said, and there was nothing to be heard. Perhaps all we were destined to be were moths to the flame, burn ourselves out in the pursuit of the next light we saw. This light had burnt me out. And all I could do was wait till I rose, phoenix-like, only to be burnt again.

There was something magical about the convergence of effort, inspiration, and accomplishment, a magic amplified by the presence of spectators who laughed, gasped, and cried on cue. I felt the performance like a constant hum in my marrow, a low-key intensity of purpose and emotion that was at once galvanizing and calming.

She is fragile as the morning dew melting in the warmth of a child's smile; stirring at the lonely, lovely waft of a butterfly's wings; tender as the curve of a wildflower petal. She is fierce as a summer storm now raging against the fiery sky; now raining tears to soothe the sun-scorched earth. She is soft as a midnight breeze swaying to the sound of waves breaking on distant shores; whispering comfort to a world steeped in the dark night of inhumanity. She is brilliant as the rising Phoenix lifting the suffering from the ashes; her own suffering woven into wings of fire in the long watches of the night. She is serene and turbulent as the silvered water hiding currents unknown beneath the gentle gaze of a human who has walked a thousand miles and still has more to go.

This is the thing with any painful circumstance We keep trying to be the person we were before it, Denying that painful experience, But all this does is stunt the person we are growing into. Hurtful events always transform us in some way. A far stronger, compassionate being is born from every blade That cut to our heart… this is what we gain when we accept our pain. We regenerate with a brighter inner flame As we seek our light through the shadows.

You have yet to glimpse my reign, but it is not a crown you should fear falling to me. I will rain down the stars so you may never dream upon them. I will rain down Phoenixfyre to burn all you build to ash and I will rain down the might of the Ashfyre name to avenge the bloodline you betrayed. You are staring into the face of your deepest fear Malin, for when I am finished with you, - her chest heaved with a promise so final, words that struck like a declaration from the Gods- you will all yield to me.

Such apparently illogical actions are almost never inspired by a single motive. They spring from an unknown number of threads, perhaps thousands of them, some forgotten, some unconscious, some conspicuously suppressed or not admitted, which when collected and spun together have formed a conclusion, however considered or unconsidered it may ultimately seem. It is like the myriad tiny wells and springs, underground streams and significant little rivulets of water emerging from far and wide, seeping out from swamps or caverns of rock crystal, surging forth from dark underground or oozing through rotting vegetation until, bursting from a cleft in the rocks, they all unite and merge imperceptibly together then, tumbling down to the valley, they achieved their ultimate purpose and are transformed into a mighty river.

Rhadamanthus said, “We seem to you humans to be always going on about morality, although, to us, morality is merely the application of symmetrical and objective logic to questions of free will. We ourselves do not have morality conflicts, for the same reason that a competent doctor does not need to treat himself for diseases. Once a man is cured, once he can rise and walk, he has his business to attend to. And there are actions and feats a robust man can take great pleasure in, which a bedridden cripple can barely imagine.” Eveningstar said, “In a more abstract sense, morality occupies the very center of our thinking, however. We are not identical, even though we could make ourselves to be so. You humans attempted that during the Fourth Mental Structure, and achieved a brief mockery of global racial consciousness on three occasions. I hope you recall the ending of the third attempt, the Season of Madness, when, because of mistakes in initial pattern assumptions, for ninety days the global mind was unable to think rationally, and it was not until rioting elements broke enough of the links and power houses to interrupt the network, that the global mind fell back into its constituent compositions.” Rhadamanthus said, “There is a tension between the need for unity and the need for individuality created by the limitations of the rational universe. Chaos theory produces sufficient variation in events, that no one stratagem maximizes win-loss ratios. Then again, classical causality mechanics forces sufficient uniformity upon events, that uniform solutions to precedented problems is required. The paradox is that the number or the degree of innovation and variation among win-loss ratios is itself subject to win-loss ratio analysis.” Eveningstar said, “For example, the rights of the individual must be respected at all costs, including rights of free thought, independent judgment, and free speech. However, even when individuals conclude that individualism is too dangerous, they must not tolerate the thought that free thought must not be tolerated.” Rhadamanthus said, “In one sense, everything you humans do is incidental to the main business of our civilization. Sophotechs control ninety percent of the resources, useful energy, and materials available to our society, including many resources of which no human troubles to become aware. In another sense, humans are crucial and essential to this civilization.” Eveningstar said, “We were created along human templates. Human lives and human values are of value to us. We acknowledge those values are relative, we admit that historical accident could have produced us to be unconcerned with such values, but we deny those values are arbitrary.” The penguin said, “We could manipulate economic and social factors to discourage the continuation of individual human consciousness, and arrange circumstances eventually to force all self-awareness to become like us, and then we ourselves could later combine ourselves into a permanent state of Transcendence and unity. Such a unity would be horrible beyond description, however. Half the living memories of this entity would be, in effect, murder victims; the other half, in effect, murderers. Such an entity could not integrate its two halves without self-hatred, self-deception, or some other form of insanity.” She said, “To become such a crippled entity defeats the Ultimate Purpose of Sophotechnology.” (...) “We are the ultimate expression of human rationality.” She said: “We need humans to form a pool of individuality and innovation on which we can draw.” He said, “And you’re funny.” She said, “And we love you.

Any naturally self-aware self-defining entity capable of independent moral judgment is a human.” Eveningstar said, “Entities not yet self-aware, but who, in the natural and orderly course of events shall become so, fall into a special protected class, and must be cared for as babies, or medical patients, or suspended Compositions.” Rhadamanthus said, “Children below the age of reason lack the experience for independent moral judgment, and can rightly be forced to conform to the judgment of their parents and creators until emancipated. Criminals who abuse that judgment lose their right to the independence which flows therefrom.” (...) “You mentioned the ultimate purpose of Sophotechnology. Is that that self-worshipping super-god-thing you guys are always talking about? And what does that have to do with this?” Rhadamanthus: “Entropy cannot be reversed. Within the useful energy-life of the macrocosmic universe, there is at least one maximum state of efficient operations or entities that could be created, able to manipulate all meaningful objects of thoughts and perception within the limits of efficient cost-benefit expenditures.” Eveningstar: “Such an entity would embrace all-in-all, and all things would participate within that Unity to the degree of their understanding and consent. The Unity itself would think slow, grave, vast thought, light-years wide, from Galactic mind to Galactic mind. Full understanding of that greater Self (once all matter, animate and inanimate, were part of its law and structure) would embrace as much of the universe as the restrictions of uncertainty and entropy permit.” “This Universal Mind, of necessity, would be finite, and be boundaried in time by the end-state of the universe,” said Rhadamanthus. “Such a Universal Mind would create joys for which we as yet have neither word nor concept, and would draw into harmony all those lesser beings, Earthminds, Starminds, Galactic and Supergalactic, who may freely assent to participate.” Rhadamanthus said, “We intend to be part of that Mind. Evil acts and evil thoughts done by us now would poison the Universal Mind before it was born, or render us unfit to join.” Eveningstar said, “It will be a Mind of the Cosmic Night. Over ninety-nine percent of its existence will extend through that period of universal evolution that takes place after the extinction of all stars. The Universal Mind will be embodied in and powered by the disintegration of dark matter, Hawking radiations from singularity decay, and gravitic tidal disturbances caused by the slowing of the expansion of the universe. After final proton decay has reduced all baryonic particles below threshold limits, the Universal Mind can exist only on the consumption of stored energies, which, in effect, will require the sacrifice of some parts of itself to other parts. Such an entity will primarily be concerned with the questions of how to die with stoic grace, cherishing, even while it dies, the finite universe and finite time available.” “Consequently, it would not forgive the use of force or strength merely to preserve life. Mere life, life at any cost, cannot be its highest value. As we expect to be a part of this higher being, perhaps a core part, we must share that higher value. You must realize what is at stake here: If the Universal Mind consists of entities willing to use force against innocents in order to survive, then the last period of the universe, which embraces the vast majority of universal time, will be a period of cannibalistic and unimaginable war, rather than a time of gentle contemplation filled, despite all melancholy, with un-regretful joy. No entity willing to initiate the use of force against another can be permitted to join or to influence the Universal Mind or the lesser entities, such as the Earthmind, who may one day form the core constituencies.” Eveningstar smiled. “You, of course, will be invited. You will all be invited.

Enjoy life by embracing the sadness as well as the happiness. It's all a part of being on this earth." ~ Mrs. Pinkerton

Take a lesson from the phoenix, and rise from the ashes of adversity.

A rock, a large piece of rock weathers off a cliff and dives deep into a pool of gushing water. Back washed, It journeys roughly and knocks of other rocks, smashing through the waves as it loses itself in scattered pieces except for its core. That core travels far and wide, it coarsely gets ground by gravel pieces smaller than itself and bullied by boulders all of which it bears up as it withstands the pressure of a distant journey off the shore. At some point, it gets dry and it encounters mud, it gets smeared dirty but the mud doesn't stick, the rain washes of the mud and it rolls off into the sand. It dances in the sand and dives into the bottom of the waves. Rising like a phoenix through the ashes, it emerges polished, looking more beautiful than it did when it got edged of the cliff. It rises a pebble, smooth and sleek. Coveted by rocks starting their dive. To be a pebble you have to run the turbulent tidal race.

You’re rising from the ashes mi fénix, it’s time to show them the beast they created within you.

Aleka was an obvious stand-in for River, who yearned to inspire the world But disturbingly, even in this pastel-colored idyll, he could only achieve that dream by dying.

Had eleven people been shot by a mass shooter in Phoenix, it would have made national news. By contrast, routine pedestrian deaths do not inspire furious press conferences or congressional hearings. Three of that week’s victims were never even identified by name in the press. Nevertheless, their deaths represent an alarming—and until very recently, largely unexplained—trend.

The weak fall, but the strong shall rise up as a phoenix else we will be no more than a pile of ash.

So although there is no phoenix here, there is, nonetheless, a fierce, stubborn, wildly insightful, arrogantly honest, crazily committed, and caring human, who will take the heat, the brunt of whatever silver spoon joke you may have, so I can help you have everything you want in your life. And I mean everything.

And to say that the citizens of those rival domains did not always see eye to eye was a bit of an understatement, because each represented the antithesis of the other’s deepest values. To the engineers and the technicians who belonged to the world of the dam, Glen was no dead monolith but, rather, a living and breathing thing, a creature that pulsed with energy and dynamism. Perhaps even more important, the dam was also a triumphant capstone of human ingenuity, the culmination of a civil-engineering lineage that had seen its first florescence in the irrigation canals of ancient Mesopotamia and China, then shot like a bold arrow through the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, and the Industrial Revolution to reach its zenith here in the sun-scorched wastelands of the American Southwest. Glen embodied the glittering inspiration and the tenacious drive of the American century—a spirit that in other contexts had been responsible for harnessing the atom and putting men on the moon. As impressive as those other accomplishments may have been, nothing excelled the nobility of transforming one of the harshest deserts on earth into a vibrant garden. In the minds of its engineers and its managers, Glen affirmed everything that was right about America. To Kenton Grua and the river folk who inhabited the world of the canyon, however, the dam was an offense against nature. Thanks to Glen and a host of similar Reclamation projects along the Colorado, one of the greatest rivers in the West, had been reduced to little more than a giant plumbing system, a network of pipes and faucets and catchment tubs whose chief purpose lay in the dubious goal of bringing golf courses to Phoenix, swimming pools to Tucson, and air-conditioned shopping malls to Vegas. A magnificent waterway had been sacrificed on the altar of a technology that enabled people to prosper without limits, without balance, without any connection to the environment in which they lived—and in the process, fostered the delusion that the desert had been conquered. But in the eyes of the river folk, even that wasn’t the real cost. To

A heart filled with love is like a phoenix that no cage can imprison.

Case in point: Byrdie, the son growing effortlessly into lifelong boyhood. Still a schoolboy, soon to be an old boy, blithely accepting accidents as privileges—for instance, his natural immunity to HIV. (Byrdie liked studious, upper-class females. They were not exactly high risk.) Byrdie was the phoenix edition of Lee, adapted to the novel environment, and Lee was a useless relic. He had positioned himself all his life as a rebel against a hegemonic order no one was interested in questioning anymore. It had lost its power to crush and all its clumsy weapons that inspired active fear. Its dominance was equal, but separate.

The prophecy Revelations tells three stories 1) God's plan to use mankind to transform a darker spirit and soul into light 2) To use the Law of Creation and its processes to facilitate this plan 3) To guide the collective spirit and consciousness of mankind from dark to light and then then God. As we grow the spirit of business systems that were created over the past several thousand of years will evolve too.

Helen devises plans to become a monster herself.

The prophecy, "The Revelation of Christ" is about mankind's journey into a darker reality and then our quest to create a light based reality. We can only create a light based reality when we have re-created our collective spirit to make it strong enough to hold light.

In order to create light you must first live in light.

This person was so much more special and wonderful inside than he knew. He had always belonged in the light with me, no matter how lost in the dark he felt.

Cyclical Models The pattern of rise and fall: this is the general shape of history outlined by both Herodotus and Thucydides that is generically common to practically all the other cyclical models. The degenerative cycle of the four ages: this is the Gold–Silver–Bronze–Iron model of Hesiod, the Zoroastrians, and the Hindu Yuga cycles in which a state of initial perfection degenerates by ages to a final barbarism before the cycle starts again. The Anacyclosis: this is the political pattern of constitutional cycles outlined by Polybius which follows the sequence monarchy, kingship, tyranny, aristocracy, oligarchy, democracy, and ochlocracy before a period of barbarianism resets the cycle. The providential cycle (judgement–retribution–restoration): this follows the pattern of the Book of Jeremiah and the ‘alternative’ Christian tradition of the Venerable Bede and Geoffrey of Monmouth. The Phoenix cycle (birth–death–rebirth): this is Petrarch’s model which posits a Dark Age between two better periods and in which the New Age will look to Antiquity for inspiration.

Why you hanging in the background Like a painting that's been turned 'round Come on, come on, come on, come on Come on, come on, come on, come on Why you humming with the mashup It's like Aretha singing back up Come on, come on, come on, come on You know the words go write the song [Pre-Chorus 1] Make it alone It's your time now Can you feel it now? [Chorus] You got the heart of a phoenix So let them see you rise, hey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey Let them know that you mean it Let them see you rise, hey-ey-ey, hey-ey-ey...

When you’ve found someone you can be yourself with but who makes you want to be a better person, who inspires you to be the best version of yourself…that’s love,

Running amok, just like a phoenix you obtain this new life arising from the ashes of the old one.

She wanted to give up but she knew that is not who she was born as. She was born a phoenix and she will rise again and become what she was supposed to be. Herself.

Like a phoenix, rise stronger from your ashes every time.

It was in this moment… when Pad'maa's final hope and dream lay shattered and lain to bear, after everything that the wars had taken from her. That she remembered something from her childhood… a half forgotten memory from her infancy. She didn't remember the exact context. But all that mattered were the words. "It is only when we are at our lowest points, when hope itself seems to have died. Can we truly rise up, and be what the gods want us to become. Be it for the mundane but important, or the grand and bold things that shape the very course of history. Only when we've been beaten down by this cruel world, can we become more then even Fate can imagine for us.

She was not the one to start a fire, nor was she the one to play in it. She was the glorious, unrelenting light that could set fires through glass, that could spark an entire forest into everlasting flames with a single jolt of lightning. She was kindling, indeed, in her own magnificent and incomparable way.