Kindly Donate Quotes

It's easy to run to others. It's so hard to stand on one's own record. You can fake virtue for an audience. You can't fake it in your own eyes. Your ego is your strictest judge. They run from it. They spend their lives running. It's easier to donate a few thousand to charity and think oneself noble than to base self-respect on personal standards of personal achievement. It's simple to seek substitutes for competence--such easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence.

It is a special kind of homelessness to be evicted from your dreams.

I wondered if it was possible to donate my body to science before I was actually dead. I wondered if a disease were to be named after me what the symptoms would be.

Love is donating a chunk of your life to patch up holes in the life of another.

The little I have, I share with you; the little you have, you also share with me. Together we all have a full share of everything. Share with me your Love as I share with you my Peace; together we have full share of Unity!

Why do I take a blade and slash my arms? Why do I drink myself into a stupor? Why do I swallow bottles of pills and end up in A&E having my stomach pumped? Am I seeking attention? Showing off? The pain of the cuts releases the mental pain of the memories, but the pain of healing lasts weeks. After every self-harming or overdosing incident I run the risk of being sectioned and returned to a psychiatric institution, a harrowing prospect I would not recommend to anyone. So, why do I do it? I don't. If I had power over the alters, I'd stop them. I don't have that power. When they are out, they're out. I experience blank spells and lose time, consciousness, dignity. If I, Alice Jamieson, wanted attention, I would have completed my PhD and started to climb the academic career ladder. Flaunting the label 'doctor' is more attention-grabbing that lying drained of hope in hospital with steri-strips up your arms and the vile taste of liquid charcoal absorbing the chemicals in your stomach. In most things we do, we anticipate some reward or payment. We study for status and to get better jobs; we work for money; our children are little mirrors of our social standing; the charity donation and trip to Oxfam make us feel good. Every kindness carries the potential gift of a responding kindness: you reap what you sow. There is no advantage in my harming myself; no reason for me to invent delusional memories of incest and ritual abuse. There is nothing to be gained in an A&E department.

This isn’t about karma. I’m not trying to rack up I’m-a-Good-Person points.” You shouldn’t donate to charity, help the elderly cross the street, or rescue puppies in the hopes you’ll be repaid later. I may not be able to cure cancer or end world hunger, but small kindnesses go a long way. Not that I’m saying any of this to Rufus, since all my classmates used to mock me for saying things like that, and no one should feel bad for trying to be good. “I think we made his day by not pretending he’s invisible. Thanks for seeing him with me.

The champagne had been donated by one of Gus's doctors - Gus being the kind of person who inspires doctors to give their best bottles of champagne to children.

He had a carrying, congressional sort of voice, the kind that sounded good saying things like Less of a tax burden on the middle class and Thank you for your donation and Honey, could you bring me my sweater with the duck on it?

It’s easier to donate a few thousands to charity and think oneself noble than to base self-respect on personal standards of personal achievement. It’s simple to seek substitutes for competence—such easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence.

If we imagine the action of a vaccine not just in terms of how it affects a single body, but also in terms of how it affects the collective body of a community, it is fair to think of vaccination as a kind of banking of immunity. Contributions to this bank are donations to those who cannot or will not be protected by their own immunity. This is the principle of herd immunity, and it is through herd immunity that mass vaccination becomes far more effective than individual vaccination.

This world is like a rainbow or flower garden. Each nation donate different colors . Tribe, religion, race, language, traditions and different cultures,etc. The differences make this life be more beautiful. What would happen if the earth only contains black or white only. Rainbow with one color. Flower gardens with one kind of flower. We are all the colors of life and we live together in harmony to make this world more beautiful and give happiness to everyone.

You don't have to be famous or rich to do a good deed. No matter how small it may seem, each kind deed sends a rippling action of kindness to humanity. Whether it is donating, helping the donor to implement or ensuring the donation recipients are treated right, each one of us has a role in philanthropy.

You shouldn’t donate to charity, help the elderly cross the street, or rescue puppies in the hopes you’ll be repaid later. I may not be able to cure cancer or end world hunger, but small kindnesses go a long way.

Pundits, opponents, and disillusioned supporters would blame Obama for squandering the promise of his administration. Certainly he and his administration made their share of mistakes. But it is hard to think of another president who had to face the kind of guerrilla warfare waged against him almost as soon as he took office. A small number of people with massive resources orchestrated, manipulated, and exploited the economic unrest for their own purposes. They used tax-deductible donations to fund a movement to slash taxes on the rich and cut regulations on their own businesses. While they paid focus groups and seasoned operatives to frame these self-serving policies as matters of dire public interest, they hid their roles behind laws meant to protect the anonymity of philanthropists, leaving more folksy figures like Santelli to carry the message.

This isn’t about karma. I’m not trying to rack up I’m-a-Good-Person points.” You shouldn’t donate to charity, help the elderly cross the street, or rescue puppies in the hopes you’ll be repaid later. I may not be able to cure cancer or end world hunger, but small kindnesses go a long way.

To be poor in a rich city brings all kinds of ironies, perhaps none greater than this: The donated clothing is top shelf. Used purple uggs and pantagonia fleeces cover thinning socks and fraying jeans. A Phil & Teds rain shell fished from the garbage protects the babys creaky stroller.

In 1999 the RAND Corporation published a report (the first and, so far, last of its kind) with a “conservative estimate” that more than 307 million tissue samples from more than 178 million people were stored in the United States alone. This number, the report said, was increasing by more than 20 million samples each year. The samples come from routine medical procedures, tests, operations, clinical trials, and research donations. They sit in lab freezers, on shelves, or in industrial vats of liquid nitrogen. They’re stored at military facilities, the FBI, and the National Institutes of Health.

You shouldn't donate to charity, help the elderly cross the street, or rescue puppies in the hopes you'll be repaid later. I may not be able to cure cancer or end world hunger, but small kindnesses go a long way.

Don't be sunlight in someone's bright hours, try to be moonlight in someone's dark hours.

Kindness planned is no kindness, only kindness done is kindness.

Kindness is the key that opens the door of favour and beautiful surprises.

I can support Al-Qaeda, the Ku Klux Klan, buy weapons and drugs and all kinds of porn with my Visa card. There is nobody investigating this, but I cannot support a human rights organisation which is fighting for freedom of expression, - Olafur Sigurvinsson, supporter of wikileaks, taken from article by RT discussing a court battle over freedom to donate money to wikileaks.

Our ancestors have taught us in the Vedas that one should, Donate with kind words. Donate with happiness. Donate with sincerity. Donate only to the needy. Donate without expectation because it is not a gift. It is a duty. Donate with your wife’s consent. Donate to other people without making your dependents helpless. Donate without caring for caste, creed and religion. Donate so that the receiver prospers.

Hundreds of our old neighbors, friends, coworkers, and teachers are new insomniacs. They file for dream bankruptcy, appeal for Slumber Corps aid, wait to be approved for a sleep donor. It is a special kind of homelessness, says our mayor, to be evicted from your dreams. I believe our mayor is both genuinely concerned for his insomniac constituency, and also pandering to a powerfully desperate new voting block.

I don’t just have one mustache, I have two. You can hardly notice them, though, because I wear them in place of my eyebrows, which I shaved off and donated to charity. I’m just a generous, kind-hearted guy, I guess.

I also keep a jar full of raven feathers in the storeroom, kindly donated by the ravens once a year during their molt, and which I occasionally like to distribute to deserving/well-behaved/lucky visitors. If I’m doing a Tower tour, for example, and I discover that a couple just got married or engaged, I like to give them a pair of feathers—a primary and a secondary, since without one the other is no good. I’m an old romantic at heart.

We, human beings don't always need an intelligent mind that speaks, but a patient heart that listens. Supportive relationships are very much needed. Know that, the small acts of kindness can be as powerful as very big donations.

Know that, the small acts of kindness can be as powerful as very big donations. Look around, look within Be creative, Think positive. Speak gently, Learn daily. Be polite, Help others. Live, love and laugh & Most importantly 'Be Kind

Extend thoughts of kindness everywhere. Practice kindness toward Earth by picking up a piece of litter that’s on your path, or saying a silent prayer of gratitude for the existence of rain, the color of flowers, or even the paper you hold in your hand that was donated by a tree. The universe responds in kind to what you elect to radiate outward. If you say with kindness in your voice and in your heart, “How may I serve you?” the universe’s response will be, “How may I serve you as well?” It’s attractor energy. It’s this spirit of cooperation with all of life that emerges from the essence of intention. And this spirit of kindness is one that you must learn to match if connecting back to intention is your desire.

In my opinion, donating money is a wrong kind of help. It will make a person lose the motivation to be thrifty and diligent, and become lazy, unpredictable, and unaccountable. More importantly, when you give alms to a person, you deny his dignity, and if you deny his dignity, you take away his destiny, which is extremely immoral in my opinion. As a rich man, I have the responsibility to be a messenger for the benefit of mankind, but I cannot be the initiator of making lazy people.

Her carefully labeled samples, more than fifty years’ worth, was the longest-running, most complete collection of its kind. She had requested that it be donated to Archbald Lab, and someday he would do so, but parting with it now was unthinkable.

You can do something nice without posting it on social media. Give with heart. Share with authenticity. And help without the spotlight. It gets old fast with so many bragging, marketing and showcasing how giving they are. It also creates the perception that these individuals are doing this for their own promotion, marketing, and visibility, over genuinely trying to help another. There is something beautiful in giving a gift and just doing it to do it and not doing it to brag. The real honor of a person shines through so much brighter when they are not bragging about how much they do, how much they give and how much they care.

I hope you’ll take the next right step today and choose just one way to be kind. Then another. Then another. Then another. Here’s a few ideas to get you started. Write a thank-you note. Extend an invitation. Bring muffins to the office. Offer someone a ride to the airport. Donate blood. Challenge yourself to go a day without saying anything negative. Call your grandmother. Look at the month ahead for birthdays and plan something special for a friend or family member. Send a care package. Send congrats flowers for a friend who reached a new milestone. Make a double batch of soup and bring half to someone who just moved. Wave at kids on a school bus.

Your ego is your strictest judge. They run from it. They spend their lives running. It’s easier to donate a few thousands to charity and think oneself noble than to base self-respect on personal standards of personal achievement. It’s simple to seek substitutes for competence—such easy substitutes: love, charm, kindness, charity. But there is no substitute for competence.

They sorted it out so you could have a few years together before you began your donations.” There was now a strange atmosphere around the table, a kind of tingle going round...They'd heard of this Hailsham couple, the guy had only a few weeks left before he became a carer. And they went to see someone and got everything put back three years...Three years just to themselves, because they could prove they were properly in love.

Have you ever been in a place where history becomes tangible? Where you stand motionless, feeling time and importance press around you, press into you? That was how I felt the first time I stood in the astronaut garden at OCA PNW. Is it still there? Do you know it? Every OCA campus had – has, please let it be has – one: a circular enclave, walled by smooth white stone that towered up and up until it abruptly cut off, definitive as the end of an atmosphere, making room for the sky above. Stretching up from the ground, standing in neat rows and with an equally neat carpet of microclover in between, were trees, one for every person who’d taken a trip off Earth on an OCA rocket. It didn’t matter where you from, where you trained, where your spacecraft launched. When someone went up, every OCA campus planted a sapling. The trees are an awesome sight, but bear in mind: the forest above is not the garden’s entry point. You enter from underground. I remember walking through a short tunnel and into a low-lit domed chamber that possessed nothing but a spiral staircase leading upward. The walls were made of thick glass, and behind it was the dense network you find below every forest. Roots interlocking like fingers, with gossamer fungus sprawled symbiotically between, allowing for the peaceful exchange of carbon and nutrients. Worms traversed roads of their own making. Pockets of water and pebbles decorated the scene. This is what a forest is, after all. Don’t believe the lie of individual trees, each a monument to its own self-made success. A forest is an interdependent community. Resources are shared, and life in isolation is a death sentence. As I stood contemplating the roots, a hidden timer triggered, and the lights faded out. My breath went with it. The glass was etched with some kind of luminescent colourant, invisible when the lights were on, but glowing boldly in the dark. I moved closer, and I saw names – thousands upon thousands of names, printed as small as possible. I understood what I was seeing without being told. The idea behind Open Cluster Astronautics was simple: citizen-funded spaceflight. Exploration for exploration’s sake. Apolitical, international, non-profit. Donations accepted from anyone, with no kickbacks or concessions or promises of anything beyond a fervent attempt to bring astronauts back from extinction. It began in a post thread kicked off in 2052, a literal moonshot by a collective of frustrated friends from all corners – former thinkers for big names gone bankrupt, starry-eyed academics who wanted to do more than teach the past, government bureau members whose governments no longer existed. If you want to do good science with clean money and clean hands, they argued, if you want to keep the fire burning even as flags and logos came down, if you understand that space exploration is best when it’s done in the name of the people, then the people are the ones who have to make it happen.

The first time I met Dr. Tuttle, she wore a foam neck brace because of a “taxi accident” and was holding an obese tabby, whom she introduced as “my eldest.” She pointed out the tiny yellow envelopes in the waiting room. “When you come in, write your name on an envelope and fold your check inside. Payments go in here,” she said, knocking on the wooden box on the desk in her office. It was the kind of box they have in churches for accepting donations for candles. The fainting couch in her office was covered in cat fur and piled on one end with little antique dolls with chipped porcelain faces. On her desk were half-eaten granola bars and stacked Tupperware containers of grapes and cut-up melon, a mammoth old computer, more National Geographic magazines.

Why do we focus on certain things at the expense of others? We will risk our lives to save a person from drowning, yet not make a donation that could save dozens of children from starvation. We install solar panels when their impact on CO2 emissions is minimal - and indeed may have a net negative effect if manufacturing and installation are taken into account - rather than contributing to more efficient infrastructure projects. I consider my own decision-making in these areas to be more rational than that of most people but I also make errors of the same kind. We are genetically programmed to react to stimuli in our immediate vicinity. Responding to complex issues that we can not perceive directly requires the application of reasoning, which is less powerful than instinct.

One of the big problems in North Korea was a fertilizer shortage. When the economy collapsed in the 1990s, the Soviet Union stopped sending fertilizer to us and our own factories stopped producing it. Whatever was donated from other countries couldn’t get to the farms because the transportation system had also broken down. This led to crop failures that made the famine even worse. So the government came up with a campaign to fill the fertilizer gap with a local and renewable source: human and animal waste. Every worker and schoolchild had a quota to fill. You can imagine what kind of problems this created for our families. Every member of the household had a daily assignment, so when we got up in the morning, it was like a war. My aunts were the most competitive. “Remember not to poop in school!” my aunt in Kowon told me every day. “Wait to do it here!” Whenever my aunt in Songnam-ri traveled away from home and had to poop somewhere else, she loudly complained that she didn’t have a plastic bag with her to save it. “Next time I’ll remember!” she would say. Thankfully, she never actually did this. The big effort to collect waste peaked in January, so it could be ready for growing season. Our bathrooms in North Korea were usually far away from the house, so you had to be careful that the neighbors didn’t steal from you at night. Some people would lock up their outhouses to keep the poop thieves away. At school the teachers would send us out into the streets to find poop and carry it back to class. So if we saw a dog pooping in the street, it was like gold. My uncle in Kowon had a big dog who made a big poop—and everyone in the family would fight over it. This is not something you see every day in the West.

This kind of parenting was typical in much of Asia—and among Asian immigrant parents living in the United States. Contrary to the stereotype, it did not necessarily make children miserable. In fact, children raised in this way in the United States tended not only to do better in school but to actually enjoy reading and school more than their Caucasian peers enrolled in the same schools. While American parents gave their kids placemats with numbers on them and called it a day, Asian parents taught their children to add before they could read. They did it systematically and directly, say, from six-thirty to seven each night, with a workbook—not organically, the way many American parents preferred their children to learn math. The coach parent did not necessarily have to earn a lot of money or be highly educated. Nor did a coach parent have to be Asian, needless to say. The research showed that European-American parents who acted more like coaches tended to raise smarter kids, too. Parents who read to their children weekly or daily when they were young raised children who scored twenty-five points higher on PISA by the time they were fifteen years old. That was almost a full year of learning. More affluent parents were more likely to read to their children almost everywhere, but even among families within the same socioeconomic group, parents who read to their children tended to raise kids who scored fourteen points higher on PISA. By contrast, parents who regularly played with alphabet toys with their young children saw no such benefit. And at least one high-impact form of parental involvement did not actually involve kids or schools at all: If parents simply read for pleasure at home on their own, their children were more likely to enjoy reading, too. That pattern held fast across very different countries and different levels of family income. Kids could see what parents valued, and it mattered more than what parents said. Only four in ten parents in the PISA survey regularly read at home for enjoyment. What if they knew that this one change—which they might even vaguely enjoy—would help their children become better readers themselves? What if schools, instead of pleading with parents to donate time, muffins, or money, loaned books and magazines to parents and urged them to read on their own and talk about what they’d read in order to help their kids? The evidence suggested that every parent could do things that helped create strong readers and thinkers, once they knew what those things were. Parents could go too far with the drills and practice in academics, just as they could in sports, and many, many Korean parents did go too far. The opposite was also true. A coddled, moon bounce of a childhood could lead to young adults who had never experienced failure or developed self-control or endurance—experiences that mattered as much or more than academic skills. The evidence suggested that many American parents treated their children as if they were delicate flowers. In one Columbia University study, 85 percent of American parents surveyed said that they thought they needed to praise their children’s intelligence in order to assure them they were smart. However, the actual research on praise suggested the opposite was true. Praise that was vague, insincere, or excessive tended to discourage kids from working hard and trying new things. It had a toxic effect, the opposite of what parents intended. To work, praise had to be specific, authentic, and rare. Yet the same culture of self-esteem boosting extended to many U.S. classrooms.

The problem was that I have never been able to do harm to a book. Even books I don’t want, or books that are so worn out and busted that they can’t be read any longer, cling to me like thistles. I pile them up with the intention of throwing them away, and then, every time, when the time comes, I can’t. I am happy if I can give them away or donate them. But I can’t throw a book in the trash, no matter how hard I try. At the last minute, something glues my hands to my sides, and a sensation close to revulsion rises up in me. Many times, I have stood over a trash can, holding a book with a torn cover and a broken binding, and I have hovered there, dangling the book, and finally, I have let the trash can lid snap shut and I have walked away with the goddamn book—a battered, dog-eared, wounded soldier that has been spared to live another day. The only thing that comes close to this feeling is what I experience when I try to throw out a plant, even if it is the baldest, most aphid-ridden, crooked-stemmed plant in the world. The sensation of dropping a living thing into the trash is what makes me queasy. To have that same feeling about a book might seem strange, but this is why I have come to believe that books have souls—why else would I be so reluctant to throw one away? It doesn’t matter that I know I’m throwing away a bound, printed block of paper that is easily reproduced. It doesn’t feel like that. A book feels like a thing alive in this moment, and also alive on a continuum, from the moment the thoughts about it first percolated in the writer’s mind to the moment it sprang off the printing press—a lifeline that continues as someone sits with it and marvels over it, and it continues on, time after time after time. Once words and thoughts are poured into them, books are no longer just paper and ink and glue: They take on a kind of human vitality.

This pageantry involved the British not merely exalting the principle of hierarchy in ensuring reverence for their own queen, but extending it to India, honouring ‘native princes’, ennobling others and promoting the invention of ersatz aristocratic tradition so as to legitimize their rule. Thus the British created a court culture that the princes had to follow, and a hierarchy that sought to show the Crown as successors of the Mughal emperor. The elaborately-graded gun salutes, from nine guns to nineteen (and in only five cases, twenty-one)6, depending on the importance, and cooperativeness, of the ruler in question; the regulation of who was and was not a ‘Highness’, and of what kind (the Nizam of Hyderabad went from being His Highness to His Exalted Highness during World War I, mainly because of his vast donation of money to the war effort); the careful lexicon whereby the ‘native chiefs’ (not ‘kings’), came from ‘ruling’, not ‘royal’, families, and their territories were ‘princely states’ not ‘kingdoms’—all these were part of an elaborate system of monarchical illusion-building.

Your grandfather should not be allowed on social media,” Caroline went on. “He just did a quick and dirty post asking if anyone wanted to go owling with him, and never noticed that autocorrect changed ‘owling’ to ‘bowling.’ And before I noticed it and posted a correction, several dozen people signed up.” “Good grief,” I muttered. “And once I corrected it, we started hearing from any number of people saying how deeply disappointed they were about our canceling the bowling—as if you could cancel something that wasn’t even scheduled in the first place. So he told me to go ahead and organize some kind of bowling event. Open to anyone in the Brigade, no cost, but donation to one of the Blake Foundation’s environmental projects suggested. Brigade members love events like that. We’re sure to get way more donations than it costs to rent a few bowling lanes. Now I just need to figure out how to deal with his other typo, which won’t be quite as easy.” “Why?” I asked. “What was the other typo?” “He intended to say that we’d wrap up the event by singing around a campfire,” Caroline said. “I have no idea why autocorrect changed ‘campfire’ to ‘vampire.’ Or why anyone would suppose he’d be planning to serenade one. Am I really expected to provide a vampire on top of the bowling?

Fortunate beyond measure… wise and provident in counsel, well-learned in law, history, humanity and divinity. He understood Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, and High and Low-Dutch, besides his native language. He was of quick apprehension, judicious and skillful in nature, elegant in speech, sweet, familiar and affable in behaviour; stern to the obstinate, but calm and meek to the humble. Magnanimous and courageous above all the princes of his days; apt for war but a lover of peace; never puffed up with prosperity nor dismayed at adversity. He was of an exalted, glorious, and truly royal spirit, which never entertained anything vulgar or trivial, as may appear by the most excellent laws which he made, by those two famous jubilees he kept, and by the most honourable Order of the Garter, which he first devised and founded. His recreations were hawking, hunting and fishing, but chiefly he loved the martial exercise of jousts and tournaments. In his buildings he was curious, splendid and magnificent, in bestowing of graces and donations, free and frequent; and to the ingenious and deserving always kind and liberal; devout to God, bountiful to the clergy, gracious to his people, merciful to the poor, true to his word, loving to his friends, terrible to his enemies… In short he had the most virtues and the fewest vices of any prince that ever I read of. He was valiant, just, merciful, temperate, and wise; the best lawgiver, the best friend, the best father, and the best husband in his days.5

The traditional reluctance in this country to confront the real nature of racism is once again illustrated by the manner in which the majority of American whites interpreted what the Kerner Commission had to say about white racism. It seems that they have taken the Kerner Report as a call merely to examine their individual attitudes. The examination of individual attitudes is, of course, an indispensable requirement if the influence of racism is to be neutralized, but it is neither the only nor the basic requirement. The Kerner Report took great pains to make a distinction between racist attitudes and racist behavior. In doing so, it was trying to point out that the fundamental problem lies in the racist behavior of American institutions toward Negroes, and that the behavior of these institutions is influenced more by overt racist actions of people than by their private attitudes. If so, then the basic requirement is for white Americans, while not ignoring the necessity for a revision of their private beliefs, to concentrate on actions that can lead to the ultimate democratization of American institutions. By focusing upon private attitudes alone, white Americans may come to rely on token individual gestures as a way of absolving themselves personally of racism, while ignoring the work that needs to be done within public institutions to eradicate social and economic problems and redistribute wealth and opportunity. I mean by this that there are many whites sitting around in drawing rooms and board rooms discussing their consciences and even donating a few dollars to honor the memory of Dr. King. But they are not prepared to fight politically for the kind of liberal Congress the country needs to eradicate some of the evils of racism, or for the massive programs needed for the social and economic reconstruction of the black and white poor, or for a revision of the tax structure whereby the real burden will be lifted from the shoulders of those who don't have it and placed on the shoulders of those who can afford it. Our time offers enough evidence to show that racism and intolerance are not unique American phenomena. The relationship between the upper and lower classes in India is in some ways more brutal than the operation of racism in America. And in Nigeria black tribes have recently been killing other black tribes in behalf of social and political privilege. But it is the nature of the society which determines whether such conflicts will last, whether racism and intolerance will remain as proper issues to be socially and politically organized. If the society is a just society, if it is one which places a premium on social justice and human rights, then racism and intolerance cannot survive —will, at least, be reduced to a minimum. While working with the NAACP some years ago to integrate the University of Texas, I was assailed with a battery of arguments as to why Negroes should not be let in. They would be raping white girls as soon as they came in; they were dirty and did not wash; they were dumb and could not learn; they were uncouth and ate with their fingers. These attitudes were not destroyed because the NAACP psychoanalyzed white students or held seminars to teach them about black people. They were destroyed because Thurgood Marshall got the Supreme Court to rule against and destroy the institution of segregated education. At that point, the private views of white students became irrelevant. So while there can be no argument that progress depends both on the revision of private attitudes and a change in institutions, the onus must be placed on institutional change. If the institutions of this society are altered to work for black people, to respond to their needs and legitimate aspirations, then it will ultimately be a matter of supreme indifference to them whether white people like them, or what white people whisper about them in the privacy of their drawing rooms.

For me, that translated into fund-raising. I knew that I could and I would raise any amount of money to get that job done. Fund-raising to end hunger wasn’t just a job or a fad or a political statement for me. It was an expression of my own soulful commitment, and as such, I could only do it in a way that would call on people to reconnect with their own higher calling, or soulful longing, to be the kind of people they wanted to be, the kind of difference they wanted to make, and see how they could express that with their money. So rather than feeling that fund-raising was a matter of twisting arms for a donation or playing on emotions to manipulate money from contributors, it became for me an arena in which I was able to create an opportunity for people to engage in their greatness. It was in this soul-searching dimension of fund-raising, in these intimate conversations, that I discovered deep wounds and conflicts in the way people related to their money. Many people felt they had sold out and become someone they didn’t like anymore. Some were forcing themselves to do work that wasn’t meaningful. Many felt enslaved by their experience of being overtaxed by their government, or felt beaten down by their boss or by the burden of running a family business or employing others. Their relationship with money was dead—or, more accurately, dread—and there was hurt there. There was resentment. There were painful compromises, a kind of rawness. People were bruised and battered there. Not everyone, but many people were very unsettled and uncomfortable and just not their best selves in their relationship with money. They felt little or no freedom with money, no matter how much they had. This lackluster relationship with money wasn’t for lack of expert advice or practical tips. Money-management strategies were plentiful, but the concept of personal transformation was a stranger there. What became clear was that when people were able to align their money with their deepest, most soulful interests and commitments, their relationship with money became a place where profound and lasting transformation could occur.

Two men were advancing towards the car along the cross track. One man carried a short wooden bench on his back, the other a big wooden object about the size of an upright piano. Richard hailed them, they greeted him with every sign of pleasure. Richard produced cigarettes and a cheerful party spirit seemed to be developing. Then Richard turned to her. “Fond of the cinema? Then you shall see a performance.” He spoke to the two men and they smiled with pleasure. They set up the bench and motioned to Victoria and Richard to sit on it. Then they set up the round contrivance on a stand of some kind. It had two eye-holes in it and as she looked at it, Victoria cried: “It’s like things on piers. What the butler saw.” “That’s it,” said Richard. “It’s a primitive form of same.” Victoria applied her eyes to the glass-fronted peephole, one man began slowly to turn a crank or handle, and the other began a monotonous kind of chant. “What is he saying?” Victoria asked. Richard translated as the singsong chant continued: “Draw near and prepare yourself for much wonder and delight. Prepare to behold the wonders of antiquity.” A crudely coloured picture of Negroes reaping wheat swam into Victoria’s gaze. “Fellahin in America,” announced Richard, translating. Then came: “The wife of the great Shah of the Western world,” and the Empress Eugénie simpered and fingered a long ringlet. A picture of the King’s Palace in Montenegro, another of the Great Exhibition. An odd and varied collection of pictures followed each other, all completely unrelated and sometimes announced in the strangest terms. The Prince Consort, Disraeli, Norwegian Fjords and Skaters in Switzerland completed this strange glimpse of olden far-off days. The showman ended his exposition with the following words: “And so we bring to you the wonders and marvels of antiquity in other lands and far-off places. Let your donation be generous to match the marvels you have seen, for all these things are true.” It was over. Victoria beamed with delight. “That really was marvellous!” she said. “I wouldn’t have believed it.” The proprietors of the travelling cinema were smiling proudly. Victoria got up from the bench and Richard who was sitting on the other end of it was thrown to the ground in a somewhat undignified posture. Victoria apologized but was not ill pleased. Richard rewarded the cinema men and with courteous farewells and expressions of concern for each other’s welfare, and invoking the blessing of God on each other, they parted company. Richard and Victoria got into the car again and the men trudged away into the desert. “Where are they going?” asked Victoria. “They travel all over the country. I met them first in Transjordan coming up the road from the Dead Sea to Amman. Actually they’re bound now for Kerbela, going of course by unfrequented routes so as to give shows in remote villages.” “Perhaps someone will give them a lift?

When you have an honest heart, you do not get engaged nor get involved with any smear campaigns nor black propaganda! When you have an honest heart, you do not malign nor take advantage of generous people who helped and trusted you! When you have an honest heart, you do not shit on people whom you used and abused for three years! Do not fall into a political naïvety and become a victim or a doormat nor have your generosity and honest heart be used and abused by unscrupulous political movers, abusive, aggressive political harridans who scam gullible generous hearts by asking donations, funds, services, foods, urgent favours, and after using you and abusing your generosity, trust, and kindness; whereby these unscrupulous and deceptive political movers, abusive, aggressive political harridans intentionally and maliciously create forged screenshots of evidence convincing their audience or political groups that you are a mentally ill person, a brain-damaged person as they even brand you as "Sisang Baliw," or crazy Sisa, a threat, a risk, a danger, they maliciously and destructively red-tag your friends as communists, and they resort to calumny, libel and slander against you, to shame you, defame you, discredit you, blame you, hurt you, make you suffer for having known the truth of their deceptive global Operandi, and for something you didn’t do through their mob lynching, calumny, polemics mongering, forgery, and cyberbullying efforts. Their character assassination through libel and slander aims to ruin your integrity, persona, trustworthiness, and credibility with their destructive fabricated calumny, lies, identity theft, forged screenshots of polemics mongering, and framing up. Amidst all their forgery, fraud, libel and slander they committed: you have a right to defy and stop their habitual abuse without breaking the law and fight for your rights against any forms of aggression, public lynching, bullies, threats, blackmail, and their repetitive maltreatment or abuse, identity theft, forgery, deceptions fraud, scams, cyber libel, libel, and slander. When you defend human rights, you fight against corruption and injustice, help end impunity: be sure that you are not part of any misinformation, disinformation, smear campaigns and black propaganda. Do not serve, finance, or cater directly or indirectly for those dirty politicians. Those who are engaged in abusively dishonest ways do not serve to justify their end. Deceiving and scamming other people shall always be your lifetime self-inflicted karmic loss. Be a law-abiding citizen. Be respectful. Be honest. Be factual. Be truthful. You can be an effective human rights defender when you have clean and pure intentions, lawful and morally upright, and have an honest heart." ~ Angelica Hopes, an excerpt from Calunniatopia Book 1, Stronzata Trilogy Genre: inspirational, political, literary novel © 2021 Ana Angelica Abaya van Doorn

You can give so much in this life, and that offers you many opportunities to release the self. For example, you can give time, helpfulness, donations, restraint, patience, noncontention, and forgiveness. Any path of service—including raising a family, caring for others, and many kinds of work—incorporates generosity. Envy—and its close cousin, jealousy—is a major impediment to generosity. So notice the suffering in envy, how it is an affliction upon you. Envy actually activates some of the same neural networks involved with physical pain (Takahashi et al. 2009). In a compassionate and kind way, remind yourself that you will be all right even if other people have fame, money, or a great partner—and you don’t. To free yourself from the clutches of envy, send compassion and loving-kindness to people you envy.

they include other kinds of evangelical and “charismatic” groups, each with a typically self-proclaimed prophet or apostle, but quickly forming their own chapters and hierarchies. Many preach the so-called prosperity gospel, which holds that God smiles on the accumulation of wealth in this life and will reward material donations to the church with prosperity and miracles. Indeed, in a recent Pew survey of religious attitudes in the United States, where 50 of the largest 260 churches are now prosperity based, 73 percent of all religious Latinos agreed with the statement “God will grant financial success to all believers who have enough faith.”4

After all, one assumes that fundamentalist Christians and fundamentalist materialists alike are aware that Christians believe God is the creator of every person; but presumably none of them would be so foolish as to imagine that this means each person is not also the product of a spermatozoon and ovum; surely they grasp that here God’s act of creation is understood as the whole event of nature and existence, not as a distinct causal agency that in some way rivals the natural process of conception. Somehow, though, even in the minds of some Christians, God has come to be understood not as the truly transcendent source and end of all contingent reality, who creates through “donating” being to a natural order that is complete in itself, but only as a kind of supreme mechanical cause located somewhere within the continuum of nature. Which is only to say that, here at the far end of modernity, the concept of God is often just as obscure to those who want to believe as to those who want not to. Ours is in many ways a particularly unsubtle age.

Give out of your surplus; support someone who's lacking. Give out a little even when lacking; it'll make someone lucky... Have no excuse not to give!

It is a special kind of homelessness, says our mayor, to be evicted from your dreams.

The bar/restaurant was still open, and there was some kind of forgettable baseball game featured there, on the large screen, with no one watching, and you could see this from the uninhabited and threadbare lobby. The young man at the front desk looked like there was no sorrow he had not experienced, and you could imagine that the pariahs of Waterbury - the convicted frauds and disgraced politicians, the collectors of serial-killer memorabilia, the embezzlers of church donations, those found guilty of exposing themselves, the mortuary assistants with suppressed necrophiliac tendencies, the sadistic gym teachers and embittered traffic cops - all settled here when they were in search of the loneliest night imaginable, and nothing made them feel better than exceedingly loud smoove playing in the lobby. If you were experiencing catecholaminergic polymorphic ventricular tachycardia, some flügelhorn soloing just might do the trick, could render you functionally unconscious in that way that hotel life can often do, unaware of any aspect of civilization that involves continuity, stability, devotion. However, it's also possible that smoove could be seen as a music that requires absolute submission to the American economy, to the need to buy and consume, and, as such, it is straight out of the robber-baron playbook, the music that can and must drive you to your knees so that you can do nothing but purchase plastic trinkets of Southeast Asian manufacture.

They who wanted office were accustomed to bribe influential men among the people to support them, sometimes by promising them subordinate offices, and sometimes by the direct donation of sums of money; and they would try to please the mass of the people, who were too numerous to be paid with offices or with gold, by shows and spectacles, and entertainments of every kind which they would provide for their amusement. This

In the meanwhile, much Company effort was diverted to the East India School. This free school, planned to have dependence on Henrico College, was projected for Charles City. Although emphasis was on the education of the Indian, it seems clear that the colonists' children were likewise a consideration. There is specific comment on this as it related to the East India School. Donations in money and kind such as books and communion service continued to be forthcoming in England. An audit of the Company books early in 1622 showed college receipts to the extent of £2,043 and expenditures of £1,477. In Virginia, George Thorpe continued to encourage peace and friendship with the Indians setting an excellent personal example in this. He did what he could, too, to develop the College lands even planting vines to the number of 10,000.

Delivering Comfort and Kindness. Kindsox was founded on a simple premise: With every pair you purchase, Kindsox will donate a free pair of socks to the homeless community. One for One.

Whenever a human being gives any help to another human being without greed, in which there is no greed hidden by him, which can prove to be an example for the society and he stands for it, then we call that human being as a human being. There have been many such people in the world who come forward to help other poor poor people without greed, they give importance to humanity with their help and keep themselves excited in doing such work. Many times such incidents happen in front of us, in which importance is given to humanity, in which one person helps other humans. And there is no greed for the person for whom he is showing humanity with others. Till now, there have been many such opportunities in which one person has to help other people. One such example is in front of us when we go to the blood bank to donate our blood, we do not know to whom our blood will be given. We only do such work by giving importance to humanity so that the person can be saved. We give importance to humanity even when there is some kind of danger or threat to humanity. There are many other examples that we can tell. While giving importance to humanity in different places, people are ready to help each other, we must have heard many names that have helped other destitute humans without greed while giving importance to humanity and we should always think that Anytime someone needs us in any way and we can easily fulfill his need, then we should stand for him so that we can give importance to humanity as a human being. Many times a person also has a big heart for animals and also plays an important role to save their life or to eat their food. We should also learn from those humans that humanity is in all of us, just that it should come out Let us not kill the person inside us and we can walk on the path of humanity.

Perform a random act of kindness. Whether you mow the neighbor’s lawn or donate pet food to a local animal shelter, doing a good deed can help bring more meaning to your day.

To be poor in a rich city brings all kinds of ironies, perhaps none greater than this: The donated clothing is top shelf. Used purple Uggs and Patagonia fleeces cover thinning socks and fraying jeans. A Phil & Teds rain shell, fished from the garbage, protects the baby’s creaky stroller.

Thus the British created a court culture that the princes had to follow, and a hierarchy that sought to show the Crown as successors of the Mughal emperor. The elaborately-graded gun salutes, from nine guns to nineteen (and in only five cases, twenty-one*), depending on the importance, and cooperativeness, of the ruler in question; the regulation of who was and was not a ‘Highness’, and of what kind (the Nizam of Hyderabad went from being His Highness to His Exalted Highness during World War I, mainly because of his vast donation of money to the war effort); the careful lexicon whereby the ‘native chiefs’ (not ‘kings’), came from ‘ruling’, not ‘royal’, families, and their territories were ‘princely states’ not ‘kingdoms’—all these were part of an elaborate system of monarchical illusion-building.

It’s hard to feel sorry for yourself when you’re serving hungry people in a soup kitchen or spending time with elderly residents in a nursing home. •​Perform a random act of kindness. Whether you mow the neighbor’s lawn or donate pet food to a local animal shelter, doing a good deed can help bring more meaning to your day. •​Do something active. Physical or mental activity will help you focus on something other than your misfortune. Exercise, sign up for a class, read a book, or learn a new hobby, and your behavior change can help shift your attitude.

pants, or “huggable” velvet hangers, rather than cheap wire ones, will keep clothing in top-notch shape and avoid tangles. It’s okay to use more than one kind of hanger to help clothing keep its shape. For example, padded hangers should be used for any hanging sweaters, but other kinds of shirts would be fine with tube or huggable hangers. Just keep them consistent in each section of the closet. And always hang clothes in the same direction. This will help reduce visual clutter and allow you to review your clothes at a glance. For shoes, there are a multitude of storage options. Inexpensive clear plastic shoe boxes keep shoes dust-free and easily viewed. Or use overdoor shoe bags, hanging canvas shoe bags, or a neat tiered shoe rack or shoe tree on the floor. Make sure to use ALL closet space. Underneath short- hanging garments, place a low trunk full of sweaters, a set of plastic drawers, or a simple wooden dresser filled with lingerie, swimsuits, and socks. 6. CLEAN UP & MAINTAIN Put the donation boxes in the car or near the exit so they leave the home immediately. Take out the trash. Grab the relocation box and redistribute all of its contents appropriately. Review the contents of the fix-it box and determine if the cost of the repairs is worth saving the items. If so, make a plan to get them to the

The MDP proved wildly successful. It’s currently the longest-running disease-specific drug donation programme of its kind. It’s delivered 3.4 billion treatments to 29 African countries, 6 Latin American countries and Yemen in the Middle East, and now reaches 300 million people per year.

As Stanford researcher Philip Zimbardo wrote, “A remarkable thing about cult mind control is that it’s so ordinary in the tactics and strategies of social influence employed. They are variants of well-known social psychological principles of compliance, conformity, persuasion, dissonance,…emotional manipulation, and others that are used on all of us daily to entice us: to buy, to try, to donate, to vote, to join, to change, to believe, to love, to hate the enemy…Cult mind control is not different in kind from these everyday varieties, but in its greater intensity, persistence, duration, and scope.

I love the church. I like the waxed candles that remind me people think of people. I love the bouquet of flowers on the altar that a group of grandmas grow in their gardens and pridefully donate every week. I admire the wooden statues of craftsmanship, of a mother staring at you with the kind of pure, loving look I forgot to ask from mine. I like the skinny man nailed to the cross reminding me that people are capable of sacrificial love. I like to stare at the art on the stained-glass windows, of angels, of lambs, and of fruit. I love running my hands over mosaics and tracing the lips of saints. I love the hymns and joy of the choir, who sing regardless if you’re too scared. I love watching the collective sway of bodies subconsciously comforted by their environment after finally saying “Peace be with you.” And most of all, I love being surrounded by people trying. They wear Christ around their neck and squeeze a rosary for dear life, admitting their weaknesses and sins. Tell me, where do you find that? There is an honesty in the church, spilling from kneeling persons, that gives me the hope humans can take care of each other and our planet can be a good one. Where else can I be exposed to the practice of morality on such an emotional level? I love everything about the church—the shiny pews, the smoky incense, the Bible and its purpose – because when all is considered, it makes sense. It is a template of discipline and thoughtfulness. Why call religious people idiots when they’re the few paying attention to their own lives? And there are other ways to be moral of course, but not many ways to practice. I’ve learned that to believe in God doesn’t subtract any life from you. It is additional. It is the world and God. If someone wears a jacket over their shirt, they aren’t naked. They’re double-layered.

Whether it’s by delivering a compliment, sending a nice text to a friend when you think of them, taking care of a chore for someone, or donating to charity—do it right when you have the thought to do so. We might delay doing the thing today, but don’t delay kindness. Do it before the moment passes. After all, isn’t it the people in our lives rather than the things that are of the utmost importance? Perhaps that’s one way we can all be day artists—we may not be able to shape our day entirely

With full awareness that food is still lacking for many families, knowing also there is no shortage of solidarity in families on the outskirts, I see a large number of people taking non-perishable foods to churches to be donated to required people. Gradually, with very little, in the middle of ocean of difficulties a droplet sprouts in each heart. I can see an inexhaustible source of kindness and love in helping others.

I told him I wanted separate checking accounts, but since he makes more money than me, he has to buy me lots of presents all the time to keep me happy. He agreed. He made me promise him I’d never become vegan. That was a simple promise. I love cheese too much. I told him we had to start some kind of charity, or at least donate to the ones Marshall and Allysa like.

We reward companies that run antiracist marketing campaigns without recognizing how these campaigns can distract from those companies’ abysmal labor practices, as if shortchanging workers isn’t often itself a kind of racism. (The economists Valerie Wilson and William Darity, Jr., have shown that the Black-white pay gap has increased since 2000, and today, the average Black worker makes roughly 74 cents for every dollar the average white worker does.) We recognize the kind of coffee we should drink or the kind of shoes we should wear to signal our political affiliations, but we are often unaware of what difference that makes for the workers themselves, if it makes a difference at all. My family stopped shopping at Home Depot after learning about the company’s hefty donations to Republican lawmakers who refused to certify the results of the 2020 presidential election. We have yet to inquire about the pay and benefits offered at Ace Hardware.

This wasn’t, of course, something exclusive to ARMY when it came to fandom in K-pop. The K-pop fandoms that came before them were also proactive in their donating for all kinds of causes. But when BTS reached worldwide fame, other K-pop fandoms around the world began to echo this tendency. Through the particular form of unity that K-pop fandoms have, fans would express their identities and also speak out on various political and social issues outside of K-pop.

This wasn’t, of course, something exclusive to ARMY when it came to fandom in K-pop. The K-pop fandoms that came before them were also proactive in their donating for all kinds of causes. But when BTS reached worldwide fame, other K-pop fandoms around the world began to echo this tendency. Through the particular form of unity that K-pop fandoms have, fans would express their identities and also speak out on various political and social issues outside of K-pop. And today, it has become the norm for any K-pop fandom to express their positions on not only the issues of the countries they live in but issues the world has in common.

Constantine outlawed it in the world he oversaw some time after A.D. 315, but when Charles le Bon, Charles the Good, count of Flanders, was assassinated in the church of St. Donat in Bruges in 1127, Bertholde, the murderer, was ordered to be crucified by the French king Louis VI, called Louis the Fat.

You can spend thousands of dollars on the shallow, Still it won't be enough to light up their eyes. But spend a single wise cent on someone in need, It'll fill their heart with new vigor of life.

The idea that zen, spirituality, or even any religion must live off the donations of their members and communities, lacks creativity. If these organizations do so well at helping people but aren't able to create a sustainable model for themselves, what kind of example is that?

The Senate report laid out a basic picture of the money trail: (1) Koch Industries supported the Economic Education Trust; (2) that trust gave cash to Triad; (3) Triad gave the cash to campaign groups like Citizens for Reform, which, in turn, (4) pumped money into elections to defeat Koch Industries’ opponents. (Koch Industries also gave at least $2,000 directly to Triad.) Triad was a new kind of campaign finance machine. It acted as a third party that didn’t directly donate money to politicians. Triad hired consultants who created attack ads for Republicans in tight races. Triad was careful in its language. It never used words like “vote for,” “support,” or “defeat” that might have triggered oversight from campaign regulators like the Federal Election Commission.

What kind of person protects his ex and his little brother from the consequences of their own fucked-up selfish choices? Thinks of his family’s feelings before he thinks of his own. Anonymously donates a kidney to a stranger. Zander had said Jacob would give you the shirt off his back and that whole analogy seemed wildly inadequate now that I knew what Jacob was really like.

My Book event was kindly arranged by Brendon books of Bath Place, Taunton on 14th March 2024 I concluded my talk with a verse :- The tropical island of Sri-Lanka was surrounded by a flood Which swept a train right off its rails and buried it in mud We had always loved the place and made there many friends So I went on a kind of pilgrimage to help them make amends I took with me my Brother's french Wife and Arthur's Brother Fred I wanted to help not just myself but friends in need instead Asked Arthur C. who I should help, aware there'd be corruption There are always unscrupulous people in disasters and disruption He put us on to Valerie, Wife of Hector Arthur's SCUBA diver We thus found someone trustworthy instead of some conniver She introduced us to Stefan Birckmann a German fellow there Who was working hard to help children and others in despair In Hospitals and Orphanages, German Stefan staged events Of traditional Puppets he'd revived in villages of tents The puppets were a psychological boost were so short of resource So I donated a thousand dollars to keep them on their course The Unicef stepped-in to keep them entertaining I found helping so rewarding and then came home to find it raining So spare a thought for others when they're in their hour of need Stop thinking of only yourself and banish selfishness and greed.

My dad wasn’t unkind, he was just absent. I knew him from a distance, and he probably felt the same way about me. I was sure he loved me, but it wasn’t the cozy, wrap-yourself-up-in-it kind of love. He’d most likely donate a kidney to me if I needed it, but he wouldn’t rush out of work to attend an art show I was exhibiting in—that I knew for a fact.

A click of a smile donates the sweetness of love and beautifies the world.” “A smile is not a sign of consent; it’s just the goodness and charity of one’s lips.” “Smiling is free healing power for oneself and others.” “A smile hides the pain that one bears.” “The smile of a common one gives pleasure, but the smile of a special one becomes the treasure of life.” “Smiling makes you beautiful; if you are beautiful, that makes you brilliant.” “Don’t look at my smile; realize the pain that I never tell” “The smile constitutes harmony; conversely, love embraces peace since that both aspires and inspires positive power and notion.” “Smile is a beautiful beauty of one’s character and heart since that inspires love.” “There are always reasons to smile; any pleasure and love are the main reasons. Sometimes, sadness, madness, worries, critique, and defeat make you also smile. Although the smile, with love, gives happy feelings, it also hurts people if it is in a way of insulting.” “Crying or Smiling is a universal language; every human understands and experiences that.” “Smiling is sometimes a sign of invitation, but do not take it seriously if it is only someone’s habit.” “Keep smiling; it’s a peaceful defeat of your opponents and a victory for the universe of your inner self.” “Smile fragrances one’s reflection of the inner, which inspires others’ pleasure feeling.” “No matter if you remain hurting, hating, and insulting me, I will always give you my love and smile without expecting any kind of best return.” Disguise of Smile *** Tears are my life And life is my tears I cover and bear The disguise of a smile To hide my pain I know the world is More painful than my tears Pain Behind The Smile *** What would I say, What is behind the whispering lips? No one knows how much pain I carry and bear behind the smile Life has become tired of tiredness Something is behind that journey sound. Smile and Tears *** In the gatherings, I smile for my friends But in solitude, I drop tears on my destiny

A woman answered. She asked if we wanted to hear a story. My skin prickled. She was already talking when she picked up. It was like walking into a middle of a conversation. Then Becca said hello and she stoped. That's when she asked us, "Do you want to hear a story?" "Tell me you said yes." I gave him, a look, "Of course we did. Don't ask me what it was about though. I can't remember." It was true. Her story hit our brains like rain on dry dirt - cool and sweet, then gone. I wanted to write stories like that, tales that filled people up like a meal or a song they loved. The good kind of lie. The woman on the phone had inspired an entry in our goddess series. Me lying on a white-sheeted bed, surrounded by old phones we picked up at donation shops and thrift stores. My body would around with their cords, a book of fairy tales open in my arms. The goddess of open endings. James made a face, "Palmetto is a strange town, more than you think for a place that has two Chili's.

Perform random acts of kindness, these are selfless acts that you can carry out. Although there may be no reason for you to make another person smile, or be happier, the action helps to remove your karmic blockages. Your action can be as simple as smiling at someone, saying hello, or offering to help with something. An act of kindess isn't necessarily a grand gesture or a huge donation.

Neighborhood In the broadest sense, the neighborhood is a friendly atmosphere of security that lies between two or more human virtues and nobility. Therefore, the neighborhood is also spread out prevalently from human kindness and sympathy. Neighborhood is not something “scientific”, resembling a “scientific fact” that has the date of its discovery. The neighborhood, therefore, can not be defined as same way we define chemical formula. Neighborhood is not an object or concept that is somewhere in the institute's cabins made and then is applied to us. The neighborhood is above all the giving of to other people and creatures with spiritual tranquility and physical security, to live with them. The neighborhood firstly encompass us, not we him. The neighborhood, therefore, is the spiritual, psychological and physical space emerged from the whole set of moral relations among people. There is a moral neighborhood between us and our neighbor. The neighborhood is here, like the air here or the ground under the feet. The neighborhood reside in pious freedom of personal decision to live inpeace in with other people. Also: neighborhood is not a dictation law, similar to the dictation of the laws of modern parliaments. In the neighborhood establishment there is no “stronger” and “weaker” sides. Neighbors donate the neighborhood institution with their own goodness and that so they are enobling. Therefore, the neighborhood is not a prevalent rational project such as, for example, the construction of a hydroelectric power plant a project! Neighborhood is a spiritual institution that grounds itself, under condition that moral people provide a chance for that institution. Neighborhood is not led or moderated by any of the participants in it. In addition, the neighborhood is a consequence of moral courtesy, moral education. Our upbringing and our morale dams protect others from us. Furthermore, it is like a free and dignified conversation. A dignified conversation leads itself. If any interlocutor begins to dominate the conversation, then the conversation turns into something like a police interrogation. The neighborhood, of course, can be intimidated, but it is not a family alliance. Namely, our neighbor is not necessarily our cousin. Neighborhood is neither a material benefit nor a business, because the true neighborhood does not thickens anyone bank accounts. But the true neighborhood contributes to many prosperity, and among others to the material, of course. Although the neighborhood has nothing against the rules of “house rules”, the neighborhood is far more than that. The neighborhood is a moral characteristic of the neighbor, and the neighbor is here as someone who is “sown on Earth”, where are “sown” we too, his neighbors. The neighbor is in the midst of our vicinity, in the middle of the same street, in the middle of a common city, homeland and country. Further, the neighborhood is a moral responsibility. The neighbor is there to meet, to exchange greetings, to shake hands, to talk, to eat sometimes together, to exchange views, opinions about world and life. By our conversation with us, our neighbor moves in our time with non-violent footsteps, enters our language, steps into our spiritual mood, enters “our space”. We do the same with his time, language, spiritual mood, “his space”. But this participation in the space and the spirit of the neighborhood does not mean occupation. On the contrary, the neighborhood is participation without seizure without deprivation, as billions of fish participate in one ocean, but it is impossible to say that each other occupies their space ...

And what is your assessment of Lady Rosslyn?” Rafe blurted out without thinking. The vampire remained silent as he took the seat opposite Rafe. Finally, he looked up, eyes intent. “You can’t kill her. She would be too much of an asset to our people. Imagine having our own doctor for our kind. She might be able to fix Mary’s leg.” He smiled. “And I think she’s completely smitten with you.” Rafe doubted that, as much as the thought still made his chest tight. “Does your offer still stand to Change her?” Anthony’s smile dimmed. “It would, if I had not grown so weakened donating blood for your surgeries. By the time I regain my strength, the deadline for the Elders’ decree will have passed.” Rafe slammed his fist on the table. “Damn it! I should have had William open a vein before I dismissed him. At least then he could have been useful for once.” “He wouldn’t have done it. He would have quit before lifting a finger to help anyone but himself.

PARTNERS IN CRIME HOW THE CLINTONS WENT FROM DEAD BROKE TO FILTHY RICH And the money kept rolling in from every side. —Song from the musical Evita The quotation above refers to the Juan and Evita Peron Foundation, established in 1948 by Evita Peron for the purpose of helping Argentina’s poor. Evita professed to be a champion of the campesinos—the wretched workers who lived in shanties on the outskirts of Buenos Aires—and they trusted Evita. She had, after all, risen up herself from poverty and obscurity. Her fame was the result of her marriage to the general who became the military leader of the country, Juan Peron. Long before the Clintons, Argentina had its own power couple that claimed to do good and ended up doing very well for themselves. There are, obviously, differences between the Clintons and the Perons. Despite her personal popularity, Evita remained an appendage of her husband, seeking but never obtaining political office. At one point, Evita had her eye on an official position, but the political establishment vigorously opposed her, and her husband never supported her in this effort. Hillary, by contrast, was elected senator and now, having deployed her husband on the campaign trail, seeks election to the nation’s highest office previously held by him. The Perons also had a foundation that took in millions of pesos—the equivalent of $200 million—from multiple foreign sources, Argentine businesses, as well as contributions from various individuals and civic groups. With its 14,000 employees, the foundation was better equipped and more influential than many agencies within the Argentinian government. Evita and her cronies were experts at shaking down anyone who wanted something from the government; donations became a kind of tax that opened up access to the Peron administration. Trade unions sent large contributions because they saw Evita and her husband as champions of their cause. In 1950, the government arranged that a portion of all lottery, movie, and casino revenues should go to the foundation. While the foundation made symbolic, highly publicized gestures of helping the poor, in reality only a fraction of the money went to the underprivileged. Most of it seems to have ended up in foreign bank accounts controlled by the Perons, who became hugely wealthy through their public office profiteering. When Evita died in 1954 and the foundation was shut down, Argentines discovered stashes of undistributed food and clothing. No one from the foundation had bothered to give it away, so it sat unused for years. Helping the poor, after all, wasn’t the real reason Evita set up her foundation. No, she had a different set of priorities. Like so many Third World potentates, the Perons used social justice and provision for the poor as a pretext to amass vast wealth for themselves. The Clintons have done the same thing in America; indeed, Hillary may be America’s version of Evita Peron.

And how can evil be the mere absence of good? Is genocide the absence of something, of what? Of kindness? Were there no kind Nazis? Of love? Were there no Maoist revolutionaries who loved their families? Evil is an act, we commit evil proactively, it doesn't simply emerge in the absence of good. When you don't put a dollar in the donation tin in the front of the convenience store it doesn't mean that an ax murderer was created. We human beings have one set of actions described as "good" and another set described as "evil.

Donating a dollar from two dollars is bigger donation than donating a dollar from hundred dollars.

A hand loses nothing by holding other's hand.

I read everything I could find about the Congo, which wasn’t much. Americans had no connection with that place. At the top of the African continent stood some pyramids that might be worth a tourist’s while, and down at the bottom, a headline-grabbing political drama of apartheid was playing out. But the middle was a great blur. If Africa came up in conversation, it was framed by power imbalance: the Christian mission to help the unenlightened; the charitable donation to feed the wretched children. This kind of talk, with the attendant photos of pleading waifs, didn’t square with the spirited Congolese kids I’d once known, so dazzlingly proficient at the skills their lives required, so very plainly not trying to be like me. Absent from the haves-and-have-nots conversation was any notion of fully formed African cultures with their own laws and scriptures and ways of making food and homes and families. Cultures that might have been on the way to making their own history, but somehow had gotten arrested instead. Now they seemed to be marching in place, shut off from the rest of the world.

A large company with branches around the country, or around the world, can do all kinds of good works; can be sensitive to the environment and scrupulous in its ethics; can donate tremendous amounts of money to worthy causes; can sponsor dozens of charitable events. What such a company can’t do—and, more important, what its people can’t do—is interact with a particular community on a level that defines them both and provides a uniquely gratifying experience all around.

Despite an icy northeast wind huffing across the bay I sneak out after dark, after my mother falls asleep clutching her leather Bible, and I hike up the rutted road to the frosted meadow to stand in mist, my shoes in muck, and toss my echo against the moss-covered fieldstone corners of the burned-out church where Sunday nights in summer for years Father Thomas, that mad handsome priest, would gather us girls in the basement to dye the rose cotton linen cut-outs that the deacon’s daughter, a thin beauty with short white hair and long trim nails, would stitch by hand each folded edge then steam-iron flat so full of starch, stiffening fabric petals, which we silly Sunday school girls curled with quick sharp pulls of a scissor blade, forming clusters of curved petals the younger children assembled with Krazy glue and fuzzy green wire, sometimes adding tissue paper leaves, all of us gladly laboring like factory workers rather than have to color with crayon stubs the robe of Christ again, Christ with his empty hands inviting us to dine, Christ with a shepherd's staff signaling to another flock of puffy lambs, or naked Christ with a drooping head crowned with blackened thorns, and Lord how we laughed later when we went door to door in groups, visiting the old parishioners, the sick and bittersweet, all the near dead, and we dropped our bikes on the perfect lawns of dull neighbors, agnostics we suspected, hawking our handmade linen roses for a donation, bragging how each petal was hand-cut from a pattern drawn by Father Thomas himself, that mad handsome priest, who personally told the Monsignor to go fornicate himself, saying he was a disgruntled altar boy calling home from a phone booth outside a pub in North Dublin, while I sat half-dressed, sniffing incense, giddy and drunk with sacrament wine stains on my panties, whispering my oath of unholy love while wiggling uncomfortably on the mad priest's lap, but God he was beautiful with a fine chiseled chin and perfect teeth and a smile that would melt the Madonna, and God he was kind with a slow gentle touch, never harsh or too quick, and Christ how that crafty devil could draw, imitate a rose petal in perfect outline, his sharp pencil slanted just so, the tip barely touching so that he could sketch and drink, and cough without jerking, without ruining the work, or tearing the tissue paper, thin as a membrane, which like a clean skin arrived fresh each Saturday delivered by the dry cleaners, tucked into the crisp black vestment, wrapped around shirt cardboard, pinned to protect the high collar.

The dying mall has attracted some odd tenants, such as a satellite branch of the public library and an office of the State Attorney General's Child Predator Unit. As malls die across the country, we'll see many kinds of creative repurposing. Already, there are churches and casinos inside half-dead malls, so why not massage parlors, detox centers, transient hotels, haunted houses, prisons, petting zoos or putt-putt golf courses (covering the entire mall)? Leaving Santee, Chuck and I wandered into the food court, where only three of twelve restaurant slots were still occupied. On the back wall of this forlorn and silent space was a mural put up by Boscov, the mall's main tenant. Titled "B part of your community", it reads: KINDNESS COUNTS / PLANT A TREE / MAKE A DONATION / HELP A NEIGHBOR / VISIT THE ELDERLY / HOPE / ADOPT A PET / DRIVE A HYBRID / PICK UP THE TRASH / VOLUNTEER / CONSERVE ENERGY / RECYCLE / JOIN SOMETHING / PAINT A MURAL / HUG SOMEONE / SMILE / DRINK FILTERED WATER / GIVE YOUR TIME / USE SOLAR ENERGY / FEED THE HUNGRY / ORGANIZE A FUNDRAISER / CREATE AWARENESS / FIX A PLAYGROUND/ START A CLUB / BABYSIT These empty recommendations are about as effective as "Just Say No", I'm afraid. As the CIA pushed drugs, the first lady chirped, "Just say no!". And since everything in the culture, car, iPad, iPhone, television, internet, Facebook, Twitter and shopping mall, etc., is designed to remove you from your immediate surroundings, it will take more than cutesy suggestions on walls to rebuild communities. Also, the worse the neighborhoods or contexts, the more hopeful and positive the slogans. Starved of solutions, we shall eat slogans.

To forestall misunderstandings: there is value in creating and enjoying art. To many people, drawing, painting, sculpting, singing, and playing a musical instrument are vital forms of self-expression, and their lives would be poorer without them. People produce art in all cultures and in all kinds of situations, even when they cannot satisfy their basic physical needs. Other people enjoy seeing art. In a world in which everyone had enough to eat, basic health care, adequate sanitation, and a place at school for each of their children, there would be no problem about donating to museums and other institutions that offer an opportunity to see original works of art to all who wish to see them, and (more important, in my view) the opportunity to create art to those who lack opportunities to express themselves in this way. Sadly, we don’t live in that world, at least not yet.

And in 1513, the Spanish government created a kind of Miranda rights–style document that was to be read (in Spanish—incomprehensible to the indigenous peoples!) to those about to be conquered. It was the summary of the Gospel as they understood it; it was their core message, their “good news,” the metanarrative that legitimized their white Christian supremacy: On the part of the King, Don Fernando, and of Doña Juana I, his daughter, Queen of Castille and Léon, subduers of the barbarous nations, we their servants notify and make known to you, as best we can, that the Lord our God, Living and Eternal, created the Heaven and the Earth, and one man and one woman, of whom you and we, all the men of the world at the time, were and are descendants, and all those who came after and before us…. Of all these nations God our Lord gave charge to one man, called St. Peter, that he should be Lord and Superior of all the men in the world, that all should obey him, and that he should be the head of the whole Human Race…. One of these Pontiffs, who succeeded that St. Peter as Lord of the world, in the dignity and seat which I have before mentioned, made donation of these isles and Tierra-firme to the aforesaid King and Queen and to their successors, our lords…. Wherefore, as best we can, we ask and require you that you consider what we have said to you, and that you take the time that shall be necessary to understand and deliberate upon it, and that you acknowledge the Church as the Ruler and Superior of the whole world…. But, if you do not do this, and maliciously make delay in it, I certify to you that, with the help of God, we shall powerfully enter into your country, and shall make war against you in all ways and manners that we can, and shall subject you to the yoke and obedience of the Church and of their Highnesses; we shall take you and your wives and your children, and shall make slaves of them, and as such shall sell and dispose of them as their Highnesses may command.

Sam was struck by how good Mary looked. Weight loss. Probably from overwork. Or maybe she didn’t enjoy living on the kinds of canned food that, in the old pre-FAYZ days, people had donated to food drives.

Activists have not been passive. For decades, we have tried every tactic to shift the course of our governments. We have voted, written editorials and manifestos, donated money, held signs, protests in marches, blocked streets, shared links, signed petitions, held workshops, knitted scarves, learn to farm, turned off the television, programmed apps, engaged in direct action, committed vandalism, launched legal challenges against pipelines . . . and occupied the financial districts. All this has been for naught. A new approach to activism and a new kind of protest are desperately needed.

When the Jordans stepped to the footlights in the tag and spoke to us from the heart about buying war bonds or donating to a charity, the words carried a sincerity that could come only from our kind of people, not from stars reading a mimeographed sheet handed to them just before the broadcast.

My Lord, It was very kind of you to send the lovely gift which is very useful now that the weather has turned. I am pleased to relate that the cashmere absorbed an application of black dye quite evenly so that it is now appropriate for mourning. Thank you for your thoughtfulness. Lady Trenear “You dyed it?” Devon asked aloud, setting the note on his desk with mixture of amusement and irritation. Reaching for a silver penholder, he inserted a fresh nib and pulled a sheet of writing paper from a nearby stack. That morning he had already written a half-dozen missives to lawyers, his banker, and contractors, and had hired an outside agent to analyze the estate’s finances. He grimaced at the sight of his ink-stained fingers. The lemon-and-salt paste his valet had given him wouldn’t entirely remove the smudges. He was tired of writing, and even more so of numbers, and Kathleen’s letter was a welcome distraction. The challenge could not go unanswered. Staring down at the letter with a faint smile, Deon pondered the best way to annoy her. Dipping the pen nib into the inkwell, he wrote, Madam, I am delighted to learn that you find the shawl useful in these cooler days of autumn. On that subject, I am writing to inform you of my recent decision to donate all the black curtains that currently shroud the windows at Eversby Priory to a London charitable organization. Although you will regrettably no longer have use of the cloth, it will be made into winter coats for the poor, which I am sure you will agree is a far nobler purpose. I am confident in your ability to find other ways of making the atmosphere at Eversby Priory appropriately grim and cheerless. If I do not receive the curtains promptly, I will take it to mean that you are eager for my assistance, in which case I will be delighted to oblige you by coming to Hampshire at once. Trenear Kathleen’s reply was delivered a week later, along with massive crates containing the black curtains.

Life's every moment, hour and day is important. So, man must use it purposefully. For this, it is necessary that everyday he does self-study of a ved mantra, half a shloka, shlokansh or a word. If for any reason he is unable to do so, then he must donate. If it is not possible to donate, then he should perform an act of kindness or do a good deed during the day. People, who do not follow this, are wasting every moment of their life.