Inspirational. Birthday Quotes

A birth-date is a reminder to celebrate the life as well as to update the life.

Your daughter is ugly. She knows loss intimately, carries whole cities in her belly. As a child, relatives wouldn’t hold her. She was splintered wood and sea water. They said she reminded them of the war. On her fifteenth birthday you taught her how to tie her hair like rope and smoke it over burning frankincense. You made her gargle rosewater and while she coughed, said macaanto girls like you shouldn’t smell of lonely or empty. You are her mother. Why did you not warn her, hold her like a rotting boat and tell her that men will not love her if she is covered in continents, if her teeth are small colonies, if her stomach is an island if her thighs are borders? What man wants to lay down and watch the world burn in his bedroom? Your daughter’s face is a small riot, her hands are a civil war, a refugee camp behind each ear, a body littered with ugly things but God, doesn’t she wear the world well.

This isn’t lust. Lust wants, does the obvious, and pads back into the forest. Love is greedier. Love wants round-the-clock care; protection; rings, vows, joint accounts; scented candles on birthdays; life insurance. Babies. Love’s a dictator.

Not one day in anyone’s life is an uneventful day, no day without profound meaning, no matter how dull and boring it might seem, no matter whether you are a seamstress or a queen, a shoeshine boy, or a movie star, a renowned philosopher or a Down’s-syndrome child. Because in every day of your life, there are opportunities to perform little kindnesses for others, both by conscious acts of will and unconscious example. Each smallest act of kindness—even just words of hope when they are needed, the remembrance of a birthday, a compliment that engenders a smile—reverberates across great distances and spans of time, affecting lives unknown to the one whose generous spirit was the source of this good echo, because kindness is passed on and grows each time it’s passed, until a simple courtesy becomes an act of selfless courage years later and far away. Likewise, each small meanness, each thoughtless expression of hatred, each envious and bitter act, regardless of how petty, can inspire others, and is therefore the seed that ultimately produces evil fruit, poisoning people whom you have never met and never will. All human lives are so profoundly and intricately entwined—those dead, those living, those generations yet to come—that the fate of all is the fate of each, and the hope of humanity rests in every heart and in every pair of hands. Therefore, after every failure, we are obliged to strive again for success, and when faced with the end of one thing, we must build something new and better in the ashes, just as from pain and grief, we must weave hope, for each of us is a thread critical to the strength—to the very survival of the human tapestry. Every hour in every life contains such often-unrecognized potential to affect the world that the great days and thrilling possibilities are combined always in this momentous day.

I don't mind getting older; it's a privilege denied to so many!

Inspiration is very nice when you get it. It's like being given a present you weren't expecting. You don't hand the present back and say, 'My birthday's not till November.' You take it and run.

Don't celebrate how old you are, celebrate the years you survived.

The circumstances surrounding your birth is not as important as the opportunity to live life.

The universe wanted you to celebrate and appreciate your life so every year she gave you a birthday.

A good man measures his life not in the number of his years but in the quality of his friends.

There's an old Hindu saying that goes, 'In the first 30 years of your life, you make your habits. For the last 30 years of your life, your habits make you.' Come help me celebrate mine.

The circumstances surrounding your birth are not as important as the opportunity to live life.

Death has become so predictable that I have neither the youthful reverence of it nor the middle-age fear.

On her eighteenth birthday, my mother had disposed of a man-eating tiger that had ravaged the villages in the hills north of Hanoi. Now, without a moment's hesitation, she raised my father's gun, took aim and put a single, irreproachable bullet through my husband's head.

I know I don’t always show it, but you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Let’s make your birthday the very special celebration it should be, and I’ll remind you of just how much you mean to me. I love you!

A birthday is a glorious day filled with good laughter, gladness and great memories.

Celebrate your birthday with the greatest joy for the priceless gift of life, be filled with joy that brings renewed strength.

A happy birthday is measured not in the amount of gifts one gets, but in the amount love one receives.

Birthdays are special days. It reminds us of that day when the heavens gave miracles our way. You are a MIRACLE. Bless yourself. Bless others. Be a blessing.

I celebrate life with holy thanks.

Today is a special day that will go by very fast, so let’s take every second to make the most out of every moment.

Live your life so you don´t have to have any regrets when you throw your 70 year old birthday party

I've been trying for years, it seems, to be the kind of woman I admire, and all of a sudden I feel like I am that woman. I know I'm worth it. You're just not.

I wish you a vivacious day of love, laughter, and joy. Have an awesome birthday!

You will get what you wish to have.

The ecstatic beauty and soulful grace of Rumi’s poetry inspires human hearts to believe in possibilities beyond the predictably fatal.

And dieting, I discovered, was another form of disordered eating, just as anorexia and bulimia similarly disrupt the natural order of eating. "Ordered" eating is the practice of eating when you are hungry and ceasing to eat when your brain sends the signal that your stomach is full. ... All people who live their lives on a diet are suffering. If you can accept your natural body weight and not force it to beneath your body's natural, healthy weight, then you can live your life free of dieting, of restriction, of feeling guilty every time you eat a slice of your kid's birthday cake.

Your birthday is your personal New Year's Day.

We can't predict what's going to happen, but having love is worth the risk.

It is great to celebrate birthday, but you know what is the greatest?, is to remember our mother who sacrified to gave us birth

Decorate your birthday with love and memories not with years.

Today, I celebrate my Mother. Strong, passionate, stubborn and proud. An educator, and wife. She was both fearless and vulnerable, unashamed of either. She demanded the best, especially of me. I dedicate my life to exceeding her highest expectations. This is how I honor my Mother, my friend, my inspiration. In spirit she forever guides me. Thank you momma, for I am never lost.

On the occasion of Mahatma Gandhi's birthday, I salute every individual who honors the core values of his legacy, making him proud of humanity.

May your birthday be as pleasant and awesome as you always are.

All the world's a birthday cake, so take a piece but not too much.

I thought Beatrice Keedsler had joined hands with other old-fashioned storytellers to make people believe that life had leading characters, minor characters, significant details, insignificant details, that it had lessons to be learned, tests to be passed, and a beginning, a middle, and an end. As I approached my fiftieth birthday, I had become more and more enraged and mystified by the idiot decisions made by my countrymen. And then I had come suddenly to pity them, for I understood how innocent and natural it was for them to behave so abominably, and with such abominable results: They were doing their best to live like people invented in story books. This was the reason Americans shot each other so often: It was a convenient literary device for ending short stories and books. Why were so many Americans treated by their government as though their lives were as disposable as paper facial tissues? Because that was the way authors customarily treated bit-part players in their madeup tales. And so on. Once I understood what was making America such a dangerous, unhappy nation of people who had nothing to do with real life, I resolved to shun storytelling. I would write about life. Every person would be exactly as important as any other. All facts would also be given equal weightiness. Nothing would be left out. Let others bring order to chaos. I would bring chaos to order, instead, which I think I have done. If all writers would do that, then perhaps citizens not in the literary trades will understand that there is no order in the world around us, that we must adapt ourselves to the requirements of chaos instead. It is hard to adapt to chaos, but it can be done. I am living proof of that: It can be done.

This moment is spectacular!

The easiest way to remember your future wife’s birthday is to marry her on Super Bowl Sunday.

The Birthday travels patiently and silently to inspire and aspire happiness, with the gifts of surprise and love of family and friends.

Is it possible that the Pentateuch could not have been written by uninspired men? that the assistance of God was necessary to produce these books? Is it possible that Galilei ascertained the mechanical principles of 'Virtual Velocity,' the laws of falling bodies and of all motion; that Copernicus ascertained the true position of the earth and accounted for all celestial phenomena; that Kepler discovered his three laws—discoveries of such importance that the 8th of May, 1618, may be called the birth-day of modern science; that Newton gave to the world the Method of Fluxions, the Theory of Universal Gravitation, and the Decomposition of Light; that Euclid, Cavalieri, Descartes, and Leibniz, almost completed the science of mathematics; that all the discoveries in optics, hydrostatics, pneumatics and chemistry, the experiments, discoveries, and inventions of Galvani, Volta, Franklin and Morse, of Trevithick, Watt and Fulton and of all the pioneers of progress—that all this was accomplished by uninspired men, while the writer of the Pentateuch was directed and inspired by an infinite God? Is it possible that the codes of China, India, Egypt, Greece and Rome were made by man, and that the laws recorded in the Pentateuch were alone given by God? Is it possible that Æschylus and Shakespeare, Burns, and Beranger, Goethe and Schiller, and all the poets of the world, and all their wondrous tragedies and songs are but the work of men, while no intelligence except the infinite God could be the author of the Pentateuch? Is it possible that of all the books that crowd the libraries of the world, the books of science, fiction, history and song, that all save only one, have been produced by man? Is it possible that of all these, the bible only is the work of God?

To the delicate, You will fall for the rough ones. the cold ones. the ones filled with apathy. you will spend your time counting their affection in change. you will stuff your pockets with silence. you will settle for second hand love. Delicate, you will be fashioned in the art of forgiveness. you will love like it’s a religion. you will memorize birthdays, phone numbers, and the moments you’ve heard goodbye. and when life becomes unyielding, and the burden too heavy, you will fault yourself. blame the material you are made of. say that you rip too easy, expect too much, give too often. you are a well that keeps on leaking. but even if you overflow, even if the thunder finds your home, you must remain soft. and if they have broken your heart, allow it to make you softer. kinder. do not imitate the cruel. do not allow yourself to take the shape of those who hurt you.

I think it is a sad tragedy that in this world, we so many times forget a person when they are alive and only remember them when they are gone. Far better to remember them when you can see their face and hear their voice and cherish the person rather than just cherish a memory.

Josiah became King of Judah at the age of eight. Joan of Arc led the French Army at nineteen. King Tut led all of Egypt at age nine. Age isn't everything you think it is. Your heart and your spirit speak more than a simple candle count on your birthday cake. ~Tony (Exposing ELE)

Celebration is the sparkle in the eye of the one who glows. It is the song that plays in the house of freedom. Celebration is the dance of life, it’s the one dancing to the drumbeat of the heart, it’s your birthday cake, it’s you blowing out the trick candles, it’s you delighting in the fire of life.

The things that people were the most grateful for were the ordinary things in life. The sound of your spouse’s laugh, the smell of morning coffee, the echo of children playing in the yard. The little things. In waiting for the big moments—the vacations, the retirements, the birthdays—we risk missing the experiences of life most worthy of celebrating.

The sacred gift of parenthood is inscribe in the universal words ‘Papa’ and ‘Mama’.

People keep celebrating their birthdays on the WRONG date. Our birthdays change each year, but most people do not know — because they only know the Western system of life.

I Know When I Was Born But I Don't Know When I Will Go. No Matter What, I Thank God.

A dedication to my child. Thank you for inspiring me to reach the depths and the highs of life. I love you forever.

How can you get older when you only get wiser?

Every birthday comes with a great purpose and without our knowledge, it makes us wiser.

Living isn't always red bows and birthday balloons.

When you cease to make a contribution you begin to die. Therefore, I think it a necessity to be doing something which you feel is helpful in order to grow old gracefully and contentedly.

It was Don Paolo's birthday and all the people of the village were gathered in the piazza to celebrate him. The band played, the wine flowed, the children danced, and, as he stood for a moment alone under the pergola, a little girl approached the the beloved priest. "But Don Paolo, are you not happy?" she asked him. "Of course I am happy," he assured the little girl. "Why, then, aren't you crying?

This year I turn 40, still single, but filled with a sense of wholeness and completeness that I have never felt before. I am unafraid to chase my passions, pursue my dreams, and conquer even the tallest of mountains.

I want to thank each and every one of you for thinking of me on my birthday. I am ecstatic to be surrounded by your love, kindness, and blessings. I really appreciate the love and affection of friends like you. I wish you joy.

I have another scan this week," I say lightly, hoping to reassure my loved ones that it is safe to rejoin my orbit. There is always another scan, because this is my reality. But the people I know are often busy contending with mildly painful ambition and the possibility of reward. I try to begrudge them nothing, except I'm not alongside them anymore. In the meantime, I have been hunkering down with old medical supplies and swelling resentment. I tried— haven't I tried? — to avoid fights and remember birthdays. I showed up for dance recitals and listened to weight-loss dreams and kept the granularity of my medical treatments in soft focus. A person like that would be easier to love, I reasoned. I try a small experiment and stop calling my regular rotation of friends and family, hoping that they will call me back on their own. _This is not a test. This is not a test._ The phone goes quiet, except for a handful of calls. I feel heavy with strange new grief. Is it bitter or unkind to want everyone to remember what I can't forget? Who wants to be confronted with the reality that we are all a breath away from a problem that could alter our lives completely? A friend with a very sick child said it best: I'm everyone's inspiration and and no one's friend. I am asked all the time to say that, given what I've gained in perspective, I would never go back. Who would want to know the truth? Before was better.

Kami meyakini bukan permata yang mengabadikan para perempuan hebat, hanya aksara yang mampu mengabadikannya. Mulai dari Kartini, Emma Goldman, Hanna Arendt, Simone de Beauvoir, Madonna, hingga Malala, --tak terkecuali-- juga Bunda Zulfa deret-deret aksaralah yang bisa mengabadikan kisahnya.

For quite a long time I have been examining myself concerning the pertinence of Birthdays, while the date and time is linear, What is the point of celebrating it every year over and over once more, and afterward I understand we invested the vast majority of our energy in attempting to substantiate ourselves the best on the boundaries, all set by others, be it kids, soul mate, guardians, companions, seniors and so forth, and in this journey we will generally fail to remember what initially we needed with ourselves. Birthday is one day which offers us a chance to make a huge stride towards the directions we at any point needed to set out for ourselves. It ought to be made consistently, as the principal right stride, towards your own objectives to provide guidance to every single further advance. I pray that you will actually assemble your entire existence today to take a step towards your own objectives, without blending your objectives in with the objectives of others. Enjoy more than ever and never later. Have an Extraordinary Birthday!!!

Each year, Flore and I celebrate our wedding anniversary on 20 April - Hitler's birthday. We are still here; Hitler is down there. Sometimes, when we are sitting in the evening in front of the television with a cup of tea and a biscuit, I think, aren't we lucky? In my mind, this is really the best revenge, and it is the only revenge I'm interested in - to be the happiest man on earth.

Each year, Flore entice celebrate our wedding anniversary on 20 April - Hitler's birthday. We are still here; Hitler is down there. Sometimes, when we are sitting in the evening in front of the television with a cup of tea and a biscuit, I think, aren't we lucky? In my mind, this is really the best revenge, and it is the only revenge I'm interested in - to be the happiest man on earth.

Monsoon Love is a love story with a few comic twists. The idea for this story came to me when I went into the local town of Pokhara with a friend to buy his son a birthday present. We had just arrived at the shops when a heavy down pour began, and as we had arrived on his motorbike and didn’t have raincoats or umbrellas so we had to wait for the rain to stop. We were standing under a awning watching the street while we waited, and I noticed this very beautiful young woman walk past me dressed in a t-shirt and jeans with the cuffs rolled half up her legs, but the way she held her umbrella made it impossible to see her face, though with the nice body she had her face must have been just as lovely. Then I though, imagine some guy stuck working in an office, and seeing a view like that every day of the same woman, and falling in love with her despite not seeing her face.

The road to spiritual growth remains long and ever-changing, especially when it comes to the subtle ways we tend to learn, forgive, or select in the ebb and flow of life. But the experiences already lived and those years that seem to accumulate give us wisdom. I wish you a wonderful life ahead and remember that one more year of life is just additional empowerment that embraces us with the power and determination that will inspire us to do better while becoming it.

Maybe that’s too big of a question. Let’s back up. May Ling has been with you for fourteen months now? What have you done, in the time she’s been with you, to connect her to her Chinese culture?” “Well.” Another pause, a very long one this time. Mr. Richardson willed Mrs. McCullough to say something, anything. “Pearl of the Orient is one of our very favorite restaurants. We try to take her there once a month. I think it’s good for her to hear some Chinese, to get it into her ears. To grow up feeling this is natural. And of course I’m sure she’ll love the food once she’s older.” Yawning silence in the courtroom. Mrs. McCullough felt the need to fill it. “Perhaps we could take a Chinese cooking class at the rec center and learn together. When she’s older.” Ed Lim said nothing, and Mrs. McCullough prattled nervously on. “We try to be very sensitive to these issues wherever we can.” Inspiration arrived. “Like for her first birthday, we wanted to get her a teddy bear. One she could keep as an heirloom. There was a brown bear, a polar bear, and a panda, and we thought about it and decided on the panda. We thought perhaps she’d feel more of a connection to it.

A day of listening. In this really packed world, our considerations, activities and even dreams are encircled by a ton of voices that we frequently don't get a possibility, nor do we understand that our own voice is unheard from long. On this birthday quiet every one of the voices aside from the voice of your own heart, when you do that, you don't feel diverted and you fill your day with stuff you wish to do, be it dancing, singing, voyaging, reading, sleeping, eating, assuming it is flawed, let it be. In the event that it is moronic, let it be. Wish you a totally Self Absorbed Celebration. Happy Birthday !!!

Kristen and I always have a lot to celebrate at the end of June. First there’s Father’s Day, followed by our wedding anniversary and my birthday. But prior to the Best Practices this two-week season of parties didn’t inspire much of a celebratory mood. It always felt strange celebrating Father’s Day, given that my parenting skills had been something of a disappointment for the first three years, and the tears that Kristen had shed on our third wedding anniversary spoke rather poignantly to the fact that our marriage hadn’t been much to celebrate, either. That left my birthday, a day that was all about toasting the birth of the very person who had made Kristen’s life miserable.

I wondered if we would have to choose music for his funeral or would we get to celebrate his high school graduation, his wedding, or even his next birthday." "I needed to focus on the daily victories without peering too far ahead to a potential dismal future for my beautiful boy." "God didn’t do this to us, but I do know He was using it for His glory." "Yes, there has been loss, but right behind it come gifts we would never have expected amid such trials: peace in the midst of chaos, joy within sorrow, and even a path of light surrounded by darkness." "I was not happy, but still, I had a great deal of joy." "When I focus on all He has given me, it’s difficult to see what I don’t have." "As uncomfortable as I often am through this journey, I welcome the chance to honor God through it." "I am so thankful God meets us where we are, then walks us the rest of the way." "While I wholeheartedly believed God would put the pieces back together, I also knew He might not put them together the same way they were before.

As for denying the existence of fairies, good and bad, you have to be blind not to see them. They are everywhere, and naturally I have links of affection or dislike with all of them. The wealthy, spendthrift ones squander fortunes in Venice or Monte Carlo: fabulous, ageless women whose birthdays and incomes and origins nobody knows, putting charms on roulette wheels for the dubious pleasure of seeing the same number come up more often than it ought. There they sit, puffing smoke from long cigarette-holders, raking in the chips, and looking bored. Others spend the hours of darkness hanging their apartments in Paris or New York with Gothic tapestries, hitherto unrecorded, that drive the art-dealers demented-gorgeous tapestries kept hidden away in massive chests beneath deserted abbeys and castles since their own belle epoque in the Middle Ages. Some stick to their original line of country, agitating tables at seances or organizing the excitement in haunted houses; some perform kind deeds, but in a capricious and uncertain manner that frequently goes wrong, And then there are the amorous fairies, who never give up. They were to be seen fluttering through the Val Sans Retour in the forest of Broceliande, where Morgan la Fee concealed the handsome knight Guyomar and many lost lovers besides, or over the Isle of Avallon where the young knight Lanval lived happily with a fairy who had stolen him away. Now wrinkled with age, the amorous ones contrive to lure young men on the make who, immaculately tailored and bedecked with baubles from Cartier, escort them through the vestibules of international hotels. Yet other fairies, more studious and respectable, devote themselves to science, whirring and breathing above tired inventors and inspiring original ideas-though lately the unimaginable numbers,the formulae and the electronics, tend to overwhelm them. The scarcely comprehensible discoveries multiply around them and shake a world that is not theirs any more, that slips through their immaterial fingers. And so it goes on-all sorts and conditions of fairies, whispering together, purring to themselves, unnoticed on the impercipient earth. And I am one of them.

As a campaigner, said Dee Dee Myers, who served as Bill's press secretary, Hillary made the mistake of telling audiences what she felt rather than showing them. "The presidency," said Meyers, "isn't all that powerful, except as the bully pulpit. It comes down to your ability to get people to follow you, to inspire. You have to lead. Can Hillary get people to come together, or does she remain such a polarizing figure?" For an answer to that question, all you had to do was ask half the voters in the United States, who didn't like Hillary. In total contrast to Hillary, Bill was brilliant at politics because (1) he liked people, (2) they liked him, and (3) he treated all politics, -- even presidential politics -- like local politics. He'll show up at your birthday party in suburban Cleveland if he thinks you can be useful to him down the pike," said one of his closest advisers. "Can you imagine the impact that has -- his showing up at a middle-class home out of nowhere? You never forget it, and you tell everybody you know about it. These other guys in politics don't get the power of that kind of thing. The ripple effect it has politically over the long term. Bill does. He's been doing that since he was in high school.

O that today you would hearken to his voice! —Psalm 95:7 (RSV) MARIA, INSPIRATION BEHIND HOLY ANGELS HOME Maria was nine in 1965 when I first wrote about her, a bright, little girl with an impish smile. Born hydrocephalic, without legs, a “vegetable” who could not survive, she’d dumbfounded experts and become the inspiration behind a home for infants with multiple handicaps. Now I was back at Holy Angels in North Carolina to celebrate Maria’s fiftieth birthday. I had to trot to keep up with Maria’s motorized wheelchair through a maze of new buildings, home now for adults as well as infants. At each stop, Maria introduced me to staff and volunteers who simply exuded joy. And yet the people they were caring for had such cruel limitations! How could everyone seem so happy, I asked, working day after day with people who’ll never speak, never hold a spoon, never sit up alone? “None of us would be happy,” Maria said, “if we looked way off into the future like that.” Here, she explained, they looked for what God was doing in each life, just that one day. “That’s where God is for all of us, you know. Just in what’s happening right now.” How intently one would learn to look, I thought, to spot the little victories. In my life too…. What if I memorized just the first stanza of Millay’s “Renascence”? What if I understood just one more function on my iPhone? What if just one morning I didn’t comment about my husband’s snoring? “Thank you, Maria,” I said as we hugged good-bye, “for showing me the God of the little victories.” Through what small victory, Father, will You show me Yourself today? —Elizabeth Sherrill Digging Deeper: Ps 118:24; Mt 6:34

Weston, having been born in Chicago, was raised with typical, well-grounded, mid-western values. On his 16th birthday, his father gave him a Kodak camera with which he started what would become his lifetime vocation. During the summer of 1908, Weston met Flora May Chandler, a schoolteacher who was seven years older than he was. The following year the couple married and in time they had four sons. Weston and his family moved to Southern California and opened a portrait studio on Brand Boulevard, in the artsy section of Glendale, California, called Tropico. His artistic skills soon became apparent and he became well known for his portraits of famous people, such as Carl Sandburg and Max Eastman. In the autumn of 1913, hearing of his work, Margrethe Mather, a photographer from Los Angeles, came to his studio, where Weston asked her to be his studio assistant. It didn’t take long before the two developed a passionate, intimate relationship. Both Weston and Mather became active in the growing bohemian cultural scene in Los Angeles. She was extremely outgoing and artistic in a most flamboyant way. Her bohemian sexual values were new to Weston’s conventional thinking, but Mather excited him and presented him with a new outlook that he found enticing. Mather was beautiful, and being bisexual and having been a high-class prostitute, was delightfully worldly. Mather's uninhibited lifestyle became irresistible to Weston and her photography took him into a new and exciting art form. As Mather worked and overtly played with him, she presented a lifestyle that was in stark contrast to Weston’s conventional home life, and he soon came to see his wife Flora as a person with whom he had little in common. Weston expanded his horizons but tried to keep his affairs with other women a secret. As he immersed himself further into nude photography, it became more difficult to hide his new lifestyle from his wife. Flora became suspicious about this secret life, but apparently suffered in silence. One of the first of many women who agreed to model nude for Weston was Tina Modotti. Although Mather remained with Weston, Tina soon became his primary model and remained so for the next several years. There was an instant attraction between Tina Modotti, Mather and Edward Weston, and although he remained married, Tina became his student, model and lover. Richey soon became aware of the affair, but it didn’t seem to bother him, as they all continued to remain good friends. The relationship Tina had with Weston could definitely be considered “cheating,” since knowledge of the affair was withheld as much as possible from his wife Flora May. Perhaps his wife knew and condoned this new promiscuous relationship, since she had also endured the intense liaison with Margrethe Mather. Tina, Mather and Weston continued working together until Tina and Weston suddenly left for Mexico in 1923. As a group, they were all a part of the cozy, artsy, bohemian society of Los Angeles, which was where they were introduced to the then-fashionable, communistic philosophy.

A few years ago, a couple of young men from my church came to our home for dinner. During the course of the dinner, the conversation turned from religion to various world mythologies and we began to play the game of ‘Name That Character.” To play this game, you pick a category such as famous actors, superheroes or historical characters. In turn, each person describes events in a famous character’s life while everyone else tries to guess who the character is. Strategically you try to describe the deeds of a character in such a way that it might fit any number of characters in that category. After three guesses, if no one knows who your character is, then you win. Choosing the category of Bible Characters, we played a couple of fairly easy rounds with the typical figures, then it was my turn. Now, knowing these well meaning young men had very little religious experience or understanding outside of their own religion, I posed a trick question. I said, “Now my character may seem obvious, but please wait until the end of my description to answer.” I took a long breath for dramatic effect, and began, “My character was the son of the King of Heaven and a mortal woman.” Immediately both young men smiled knowingly, but I raised a finger asking them to wait to give their responses. I continued, “While he was just a baby, a jealous rival attempted to kill him and he was forced into hiding for several years. As he grew older, he developed amazing powers. Among these were the ability to turn water into wine and to control the mental health of other people. He became a great leader and inspired an entire religious movement. Eventually he ascended into heaven and sat with his father as a ruler in heaven.” Certain they knew who I was describing, my two guests were eager to give the winning answer. However, I held them off and continued, “Now I know adding these last parts will seem like overkill, but I simply cannot describe this character without mentioning them. This person’s birthday is celebrated on December 25th and he is worshipped in a spring festival. He defied death, journeyed to the underworld to raise his loved ones from the dead and was resurrected. He was granted immortality by his Father, the king of the gods, and was worshipped as a savior god by entire cultures.” The two young men were practically climbing out of their seats, their faces beaming with the kind of smile only supreme confidence can produce. Deciding to end the charade I said, “I think we all know the answer, but to make it fair, on the count of three just yell out the answer. One. Two. Three.” “Jesus Christ” they both exclaimed in unison – was that your answer as well? Both young men sat back completely satisfied with their answer, confident it was the right one…, but I remained silent. Five seconds ticked away without a response, then ten. The confidence of my two young friends clearly began to drain away. It was about this time that my wife began to shake her head and smile to herself. Finally, one of them asked, “It is Jesus Christ, right? It has to be!” Shaking my head, I said, “Actually, I was describing the Greek god Dionysus.

The holy time establish the holy-event.

It took me 25 years for me to realize who I am. Now I'm going to use the next 75 years to focus on how I want to be remembered. One quarter down, three to go!

It is the afternoon of my birthday, but still the morning of my life.

Tree was lonesome, and the adjustment to campus life was not proving to be an easy one for her. She missed the intimacy of her neighborhood back in Columbia, where she knew everyone she passed on the street. She had the typical freshman sensation of being overwhelmed. The lectures were hard to follow, a lot of the terms and subjects were new to her, and she struggled to take notes at the collegiate pace. She tried to keep up as best she could, but it seemed like she was always behind. She studied for two weeks for her first biology test. She was afraid of failing. Semeka Randall, in the next bed, heard Tree weeping. Semeka slid out of bed and padded back to Tamika and Ace’s room—she was about to cry herself. She said, “Tree’s crying and it’s her birthday. We have to do something.” The three of them spent all afternoon planning a surprise. They bought a vanilla cake with white icing; they blew up eighteen balloons and decorated the back bedroom with them; they strung crepe paper, and ordered pizzas. Word got back to me that Tree was having a hard day. In the afternoon, I called the freshmen suite. I sang “Happy Birthday” to Tree, in my voice that was hoarse from yelling at her. That cheered her up some. That evening, Ace, Semeka, and Tamika acted like it was just another night in their dorm room. They talked about going out, and decided against it. Semeka said, “Let’s just eat pizzas.” Tree thought, “There goes my birthday.” When the pizza arrived, Tamika told Tree to stay in the front room. After a minute, they called Tree into the back. She walked into a room darkened except for a flaming birthday cake. It was the final icebreaker. Tree beamed. The three freshmen circled Tree, and began to sing. Semeka started first. But she didn’t sing “Happy Birthday.” She sang their favorite song from the film Waiting to Exhale. As Semeka sang a verse, the others joined in. “Count on Me,” they sang. Tree, touched, started crying again.

Hope is the assurance of positive expectations.

he was also banned even from engaging in conversation with two or more persons. He could not legally go to a child’s birthday party any more than he could attend political rallies

We celebrate the Birthday of the Body. But, in reality, "We" are not the Body. We are the Soul, the Atman. Therefore, Celebrate every day, as We are Immortal.

Relax' is a real tough one for me. Another tough one is 'smile.' 'Smile' doesn't really work either. Telling me to relax or smile when I'm angry is like bringing a birthday cake into an ape sanctuary. You're just asking to get your nose and genitals bitten off.

Celebrate to Celebrate Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever. —PSALM 107:1     I’ve often been accused of celebrating just to celebrate. I guess that’s correct, because I’ve built a ministry on telling women how to develop a close-knit family. My experience has shown that healthy families love to celebrate—you name it; they celebrate. Make celebrations a tradition in your family! Why not? Life is for living, and in the living there’s always something to celebrate. Celebrate everything—good days, bad days that are finally over, birthdays, and even half birthdays. Get your children involved preparing for a dinner celebration. Make it special. Let them make place cards, set the table, help you cook, create a centerpiece. Our children were always assigned to greet our guests at the door—a wonderful opportunity for teaching hospitality and manners. Let your sharing extend beyond your family. Several times a year, create a “love basket” filled with food for a family in need. Try spending part of your holidays helping out at a shelter or a mission. This has been one of our most rewarding celebrations. Present your own version of a You Are Special plate to a special guest, and have her use it for her meal. Let the recipient know that she is special and is loved by all. Go around the table and tell that special person why she is so special. Have a box of Kleenex ready—the tears will flow. In some cases it will be the first time she has been told that she is special and loved at the same time. Don’t be limited. Look for ways to celebrate life and those you love! Prayer: Father God, there are a lot of reasons to celebrate today. Let me be a helper for those who want to celebrate but don’t know how. Amen.   Action: Plan a celebration for someone you love.  

We normally know we're getting older, when the only thing we want for our birthday, is not to be reminded; unless you're a cancer survivor, then we love being reminded!

The birth of a child is supernatural spiritual event.

Your ‘thoughts’ convert to words, words become your actions; your actions are transformed into habits, and habits form your values – which make your destiny. M.Gandhi Thoughts are our destiny, it is the reality of the life, Mahatma Gandhi (151st birthday today) is being celebrated in India and many more countries of the world. Such and many more inspirational thoughts have been elaborated in the book 'Through The Lens - Santosh Chadha)

ichariba chode, a local expression that means “treat everyone like a brother, even if you’ve never met them before.” It turns out that one of the secrets to happiness of Ogimi’s residents is feeling like part of a community. From an early age they practice yuimaaru, or teamwork, and so are used to helping one another. Nurturing friendships, eating light, getting enough rest, and doing regular, moderate exercise are all part of the equation of good health, but at the heart of the joie de vivre that inspires these centenarians to keep celebrating birthdays and cherishing each new day is their ikigai. The purpose of this book is to bring the secrets of Japan’s centenarians to you and give you the tools to find your own ikigai. Because those who discover their ikigai have everything they need for a long and joyful journey through life. Happy travels! Héctor García and Francesc Miralles

A googolplex of wishes, To my lovely, Caring, pride! From the first day of consciousness, She was always by my side. The one who always believed in me, No matter how much the world opposed. A very happy birthday to the one, Who inspired me the most.

Is that what we're doing?" I whisper as he slides in next to me. "Saving the world or saving ourselves?" "Maybe it's the same thing," he whispers back

Order in chaos. It was science’s oldest cliché. The idea of hidden unity and common underlying form in nature had an intrinsic appeal, and it had an unfortunate history of inspiring pseudoscientists and cranks. When Feigenbaum came to Los Alamos National Laboratory in 1974, a year shy of his thirtieth birthday, he knew that if physicists were to make something of the idea now, they would need a practical framework, a way to turn ideas into calculations.

What matters is, I will remember you, Cole. It can be hard to know how you impact people. Somewhere there might be entire kingdoms that will never forget you, where people young and old speak of you with awe and consider your birthday an important holiday.

As early as November 1966, the Red Guard Corps of Beijing Normal University had set their sights on the Confucian ancestral home in Qufu County in Shandong Province. Invoking the language of the May Fourth movement, they proceeded to Qufu, where they established themselves as the Revolutionary Rebel Liaison State to Annihilate the Old Curiosity Shop of Confucius. Within the month they had totally destroyed the Temple of Confucius, the Kong Family Mansion, the Cemetery of Confucius (including the Master’s grave), and all the statues, steles, and relics in the area... In January 1967 another Red Guard unit editorialized in the People’s Daily: To struggle against Confucius, the feudal mummy, and thoroughly eradicate . . . reactionary Confucianism is one of our important tasks in the Great Cultural Revolution. And then, to make their point, they went on a nationwide rampage, destroying temples, statues, historical landmarks, texts, and anything at all to do with the ancient Sage... The Cultural Revolution came to an end with Mao’s death in 1976. In 1978 Deng Xiaoping (1904–97) became China’s paramount leader, setting China on a course of economic and political reform, and effectively bringing an end to the Maoist ideal of class conflict and perpetual revolution. Since 2000, the leadership in Beijing, eager to advance economic prosperity and promote social stability, has talked not of the need for class conflict but of the goal of achieving a “harmonious society,” citing approvingly the passage from the Analects, “harmony is something to be cherished” (1.12). The Confucius compound in Qufu has been renovated and is now the site of annual celebrations of Confucius’s birthday in late September. In recent years, colleges and universities throughout the country—Beijing University, Qufu Normal University, Renmin University, Shaanxi Normal University, and Shandong University, to name a few—have established Confucian study and research centers. And, in the opening ceremonies of the 2008 Olympics, the Beijing Olympic Committee welcomed guests from around the world to Beijing with salutations from the Analects, “Is it not a joy to have friends come from afar?” and “Within the fours seas all men are brothers,” not with sayings from Mao’s Little Red Book. Tellingly, when the Chinese government began funding centers to support the study of the Chinese language and culture in foreign schools and universities around the globe in 2004—a move interpreted as an ef f ort to expand China’s “soft power”—it chose to name these centers Confucius Institutes... The failure of Marxism-Leninism has created an ideological vacuum, prompting people to seek new ways of understanding society and new sources of spiritual inspiration. The endemic culture of greed and corruption—spawned by the economic reforms and the celebration of wealth accompanying them—has given rise to a search for a set of values that will address these social ills. And, crucially, rising nationalist sentiments have fueled a desire to fi nd meaning within the native tradition—and to of f set the malignant ef f ects of Western decadence and materialism. Confucius has thus played a variety of roles in China’s twentieth and twenty-first centuries. At times praised, at times vilified, he has been both good guy and bad guy. Yet whether good or bad, he has always been somewhere on the stage. These days Confucius appears to be gaining favor again, in official circles and among the people. But what the future holds for him and his teachings is difficult to predict. All we can say with any certainty is that Confucius will continue to matter.

Christmas by Maisie Aletha Smikle Smiles gifts and laughter fill the air Families so dear Gather and share Love and happy cheer Mary gave birth to Christ Jesus Gloriously famed is He People are happy on His birthday They meet to celebrate this day On Christ's birthday There were gifts of myrrh Frankincense and gold Celebrating His birth that was foretold Christmas day is Christ’s birthday Once a year Christ is cheered For coming into the world Woes and foes Are forgotten And joy and peace Are release Lights blink Twinkle twinkle Beckoning good wishes To come in Snow falling on roof tops Cookies cooling on stove tops Smoke whistling from the chimneys Calling out to Santa on his sleigh Don't come down tonight It is frosty as frost bite If you come down the chimney You will be toasty as a toast So on and on Santa goes Round and round the globe Delivering good wishes and happy cheers And thanking God for Christ’s birth

I know progress is important but real progress is when you receive while disconnected from everything. I used to think it was a privilege to share a birthday with Einstein until I realized that I’m standing beneath him when it comes to the relative constant of our understanding! Poem - Bond. December 10, 2022.

Imagine if, at your birthday party, you sang to everyone in the room. And then listed two reasons to each person as to why you were grateful to have them in your life. Poem - The Birthday Test. December 13, 2022.

In 1984, the creator of Sam Adams beer, Jim Koch, was staring long and hard across the chasm. It was spring. It was the beginning of the baseball season in Boston, and it was about to be “morning in America.” Ronald Reagan was preparing for what would be a landslide reelection to the presidency, the economy had finally turned around after years in recession, the US Olympic team was about to run away from the competition at the Summer Games in Los Angeles, and Jim was in the middle of his sixth year as a management consultant for Boston Consulting Group (BCG), already earning $250,000 per year (that’s more than $600K in 2020 dollars) before his thirty-fifth birthday. By all accounts, Jim Koch had it made. His feet were planted securely on the terra firma of the business consulting world. “We flew first-class. You consulted with CEOs. Everyone treated you really well,” Jim recalled. These were interesting, heady times at BCG. The company had just become fully employee owned, complete with an employee stock ownership plan (ESOP) that forged a real path to truly significant wealth for consultants like Jim. At the same time, he had already worked alongside a quartet of future luminaries:

was in the middle of his sixth year as a management consultant for Boston Consulting Group (BCG), already earning $250,000 per year (that’s more than $600K in 2020 dollars) before his thirty-fifth birthday.

But he is still locked up.' 'Oh, child,' answered Mrs. Golden. 'That cage can't contain Sunny's spirit. It soars right out from behind those bars. That's what's important for all of us. To let our souls sing out.

A birthday is an annual reminder: embrace the past, relish the present, and envision the future.

One of these days, I’ll die and pass into a new kind of life. I’ll look again into the face of the One who has been my protection, my nutrition, my oxygen. Maybe, when that next birthday comes, I won’t be so afraid to say goodbye. Leaving the womb, after all, is just the beginning of the story.

Kate, I don’t think your boyfriend is my target audience, but I’m honored that you brought him into the book world with one I’ve written. His note, which I’m keeping to use as inspiration for when I need to write a very swoon-worthy teenage heartthrob, was absolutely precious. You’ve got yourself a good one. Happy eighteenth birthday! Best, Q. L. West P.S. He also wants to know if you’ll go to prom with him. (Say yes!!)

Health and sleep are more important than shopping for a birthday. Taking care of one's well-being and getting enough rest is crucial for overall health and quality of life, while shopping for a birthday is a discretionary activity that can be rescheduled or done at a later time if necessary.