Love Rebound Quotes

Would you just stay with me? Stay with you? What for? Look at us! We're already fighting! Well that's what we do! We fight! You tell me when I'm being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you're being a pain in the ass! Which you are, 99% of the time. I'm not afraid to hurt your feelings, you have like a two-second rebound rate and you're back doing the next pain in the ass thing. So, what? So it's not gonna be easy, it's gonna be really hard. And we're gonna have to work at this everyday, but I wanna do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever. You and me. Everyday.

The cord pulled taut and she rebounded, flying back up before falling again. As her velocity slowed, she opened her eyes and found herself dangling at the end of the cord, about five feet above Jace. He was grinning. "Nice," he said. "As graceful as a falling snowflake." "Was I screaming?" She asked, genuinely curious. "You know, on the way down." He nodded. "Thankfully no one's home, or they would have assumed I was murdering you." "Ha. You can't even reach me." She kicked out a leg and spun lazily in midair. Jace's eyes glinted. "Want to bet?" Clary knew that expression. "No," she said quickly. "Whatever you're going to do-" But he'd already done it. When Jace moved fast, his individual movements were almost invisible. She saw his hand go to his belt, and then something flashed in the air. She heard the sound of parting fabric as the cord above her head was sheared through. Released, she fell freely, too surprised to scream- directly into Jace's arms. The force knocked him backward, and they sprawled together onto one of the padded floor mats, Clary on top of him. He grinned up at her. "Now," he said, "that was much better. You didn't scream at all." "I didn't get the chance." She was breathless, and not just from the impact of the fall. Being sprawled on top of Jace, feeling his body against hers, made her hands shake and her heart beat faster.

Life is but a carousel of four seasons. Unpredictable for the most part. Happy. Unhappy. Content. Searching. Mess up the order, and they still rebound at one point or another. I’ve learned that revolution can be inward or outward. A move across the country to gain perspective. A change of heart and mind to gain sanity. But the point is to revolt when the season changes. If only to quench your thirst, revolt.

I love you, too." Click. "But I'm terrified." He lowered the camera, eyes on me. "I didn't want to fall in love with you,' I said. He took a step closer. "If it makes you feel any better, you put up a very impressive fight." He didn't put the camera down when he stepped forward again to kiss me. He just moved his hand to the side and cupped my face with the other, pressing his mouth to mine. "I'm scared, too, Sara. I'm scared I'm your rebound. I'm scared we'll cock it up somehow. I'm scared you'll tire of me. But the thing is," he said, smiling, "I don't want anyone else. You've rather ruined me for other women.

I went out with Veronique to take my mind of you, and when I'm with you I don't feel like I'm on a rebound, I feel like I've come home. It's like my world is just different combinations of black and white, but when you're around everything goes Technicolor. You're still the coolest girl I know".

I think if we stop running towards broken arms, we’d all be just fine.

She remained silent. There was nothing left to say. He'd said it all the night before. He had to end it. He could never leave his wife. And, in fact, she had known this. Although she loved him - and truly she did - he wasn't hers. He belonged to his wife. She'd earned him. It didn't matter that he was her first love or that she was his passion. It didn't matter that they had loved one another for more than half their lives. It didn't matter that he had married his wife on the rebound. It didn't matter that he didn't love the woman. It didn't even matter that they had turned into some soap-opera cliche. He was married to someone else and that meant that she was leftovers and destined to remain on the periphery in the shadow of another woman's marriage. But no more. She was well and truly sick of it. 

Alec surprised Magnus and the werewolf both by breaking away and lunging at Marcy. Whatever he had been planning, it didn’t work: this time the werewolf’s swipe caught him full in the chest. Alec went flying into a hot pink wall decorated with gold glitter. He hit a mirror set into the wall and decorated with curling gold fretwork with enough force to crack the glass across. “Oh, stupid Shadowhunters,” Magnus moaned under his breath. But Alec used his own body hitting the wall as leverage, rebounding off the wall and up, catching a sparkling chandelier and swinging, then dropping down as lightly as a leaping cat and crouching to attack again in one smooth movement. “Stupid, sexy Shadowhunters.

... as a breath of wind or some echo rebounds from smooth, hard surfaces and returns to the source from which it issued, so the stream of beauty passes back into its possessor through his eyes, which is its natural route to the soul; arriving there and setting him all aflutter, it waters the passages of the feathers and causes the wings to grow, and fills the soul of the loved one in his turn with love.

It was the way he looked at me when he climbed on top of me that excited me the most. The look of pure dominance that told me that this was going to go his way and not mine made me so eager for it that I pulled him down gruffly toward me and kissed him deeply.

He loved her. He did. He fucking loved this woman. He loved her giggle when she couldn’t control it. He loved the mischief in her eyes when she was playful. He loved how her body stiffened and hands balled up and her gaze could eat through a grown man when she was mad. But none of that compared to how much he loved her sighs, the sound of his name when she screamed it, the way her mouth responded to his kisses, her scent—God he could bottle her juices and become a billionaire, but he would never because he couldn’t, in that moment, ever imagine another man with her. He would kill to keep her his, pay every cent of his fortune, destroy his career and never have another if it would keep her his. This was not a rebound, this was not infatuation, this was the end of his life as he knew it, and the realization hit that even if she didn’t want him, he would never ever find another woman like her, he would never ever get over her. He closed his eyes, felt her leg move against his, her chest heaving against his, her mouth by his neck, and he had never been so terrified.

Because forbidden love with a hot, mysterious vampire?” she said, gesturing to her paranormal romance section. “I’m not only the president of that club, I’m also a member.

Life is but a carousel of four seasons. Unpredictable for the most part. Happy. Unhappy. Content. Searching. Mess up the order, and they still rebound at one point or another.

The current girlfriend, boyfriend, wife, or husband is often an utterly unsuccessful attempt to stop missing or loving the previous one.

Courage was no that hard to come by for children. No matter the hardships they faced, given a little love and encouragement, their spirits rebounded and thrived. Adults were different. Their habits and experiences made them inflexible, welding their routines into place, cementing their joys and hurts to create expectations of life that were not in line with the new realities. All around her, Cass saw the dazed expressions and the blank weariness.

Heartbreak isn't as lethal as the name implies, you know. Maybe it feels that way at the time, but I swear it isn't. You've seen Gwen and me both rebound from it eventually. I don't regret anything leading up to it, and I doubt Gwen does either. It's life, Elaine. Getting hurt, picking yourself up, trying again. You're so focused on the ending sometimes that I don't think you know how to appreciate the during.

We seek for an explanation, crawling on this sacred Ground, that is crying for salvation, but not many hear the sound. We yield to regeneration, lost,we hope we could be found.. once exalted Gods creations, fallen,but not yet profound. Only Love,gives clear reflection, that can turn our fate around. Once we accept imperfection, to ourselves we'll be rebound.

Barfield understood his epochal experience are not as a rebound from love sickness, but as a spiritual epiphany that cured a spiritual illness.

I was feeling a bit overwhelmed earlier. Thinking - what if it doesn't work out this time... again. And then I remembered my rebound rate is pretty damn good. It's my super power.

And I love that you never needed me to save you, but holy shit, I needed you to save me.

Life is but a carousel of four seasons. Unpredictable for the most part. Happy. Unhappy. Content. Searching. Mess up the order, and they still rebound at one point or another. I’ve learned that revolution can be inward or outward. A

If you love somebody deeply and you lose that relationship - whether through death, rejection or separation - you will feel pain. That pain is called grief. Grief is a normal emotional reaction to any significant loss, whether a loved one, a job or a limb. There's no way to avoid or get rid of it - it's just there. And, once accepted, it will pass in its own time. Unfortunately, many of us refuse to accept grief. We will do anything rather than feel it. We may bury ourselves in work, drink heavily, throw ourselves into a new relationship 'on the rebound' or numb ourselves with prescribed medications. But no matter how hard we try to push grief away, deep down inside it's still there. And eventually it will be back. It's like holding a football underwater. As long as you keep holding it down, it stays beneath the surface. But eventually your arm gets tired and the moment you release your grip, the ball leaps straight up out of the water.

She had loved him, she thought now, because, just at that time, she had had to have something else, someone else, to love, a private place for wounded love to go. But that had been, as she had then suspected and now knew, a device, a dream.

Thankfully the song that’s now playing is some cheesy Beyoncé ballad that we don’t have to dance to—and you could not pay me enough to dance to this song. Ever. “Oh, I love this song!” she exclaims, turning to me. Her eyes are all lit up. “Can we slow-dance to this?!” “Okay!” Fuck.

I have suffered through enough illnesses, trauma and heartbreak to finally understand that life will keep moving forward inexorably, if terribly at times. I am starting to realize that it can be delightful too, if I let it. My love is not diminished if I let go of sorrow. I almost believe that.

Those who speak most deeply to our hearts in times of trouble are invariably those who have suffered. They have much to give. We recognize its authenticity and willingly receive it. They testify to the truth of Solomon’s wisdom, “He who refreshes others will himself be refreshed” (Prv 11:25). So the cycle continues—love’s sacrifice (not only of the disfigured leaves, but even of the fair, new petals), then the fruit of that sacrifice in the blessing of others, and that blessing rebounding to the refreshment of the one who sacrificed. “If a man will let himself be lost for my sake, that man is safe” (Lk 9:24).

Book-club night stopped abruptly when Caleb died. For almost a year and a half, as if by some type of tacit agreement, they all knew they couldn’t be in the same room at the same time. It was as if their collective grief would multiply, rebounding endlessly within any closed space like an image in a house of mirrors, until the pain would overcome them all.

But I'm not in danger of becoming "that girl." The one who throws away her college education in favor of marrying some guy right out of high school. The one who sacrifices everything she wants in order to make his dreams come true, to make him happy. The one who hangs on his every smile, his every word, bears his children, cooks his dinner, and snuggles up to him at night. Nope, definitely not in danger of becoming her. Because Galen doesn't want me. If that kiss were real, I might have thrown scholarships to the wind and followed him to our private island or his underwater kingdom. I might have even cooked him fish. Sure, Galen would love for me to do all those things. With his brother. So it's a good thing I'm being proactive about my own recovery by going on a date, even if it is a rebound-and even if I'm rebounding from a relationship that didn't actually exist. My feelings were real. That's all that matters, isn't it? There's no stipulation in the broken-heart rule book that states the relationship had to actually be authentic, right? Sure, I'm gray-shading the line that separates stable and crazy, but the point is, there is a line. And I haven't completely crossed over to lunatic.

Too bad, wasn't it?' Damerel said. 'Instead of dying heroically for love I was left disconsolate - though not, I must admit, for long!' She raised her eyes at that, and said warmly: 'I am excessively glad to hear that, and I do *hope* you next mistress was entertaining as well as pretty!' The sneer vanished from his face; the smile that lit his eyes was one of pure amusement. 'A charming little ladybird!' he assured her.

ছেড়ে যাওয়ার জন্য জড়িয়ে ধরাটা প্রয়োজন। যারা জড়ায়নি কখনো, তাদের একটা সময়ের পর ভুলে যাওয়াটা খুব সহজ, সাবানের গ্যাজার মতো। থিতিয়ে পড়লেই বুদবুদ শেষ, কিসসা খতম... যে গাছের উদ্ভাবনী ক্ষমতা কমে আসে, সে গাছের ডালে চিরকাল কাঠুরিয়া ঘর করে... আর যারা কসমসে জাপটে ধরে, তারা নির্মোহ ঘুমের ভেতর প্রচ্ছন্ন যন্ত্রনা হয়ে জেগে থাকে গোটা জীবন। যে ব্যথাটাকে তারিয়ে তারিয়ে উপভোগ করা যায়, অবসরে নখ দিয়ে খুঁটে ক্ষতটাকে গভীর করা যায়... আউলবাউল প্রেমের নেশায় ডুবতে থাকে শরীর, তোমরা ভাবো জ্বর, বুকের পারদ গললে পরেই, বুঝবে সবাই কেই বা আপন, কেই বা পর! ঘাড়ের ঠিক দুই ইঞ্চি নীচে গুণে গুণে পাঁচ মিনিট ধরে ফেলা কয়েকটা মুহূর্তের উষ্ণ নিঃশ্বাস, এই মরে মরে বেঁচে থাকা তুচ্ছ বেকার লাইফটাকে চির শ্বাশত করে দিয়ে যায়... কৃপা বসু

The maxim, by which we commonly conduct ourselves in our reasonings, is, that the objects, of which we have no experience, resemble those, of which we have; that what we have found to be most usual is always most probable; and that where there is an opposition of arguments, we ought to give the preference to such as are founded on the greatest number of past observations. But though, in proceeding by this rule, we readily reject any fact which is unusual and incredible in an ordinary degree; yet in advancing farther, the mind observes not always the same rule; but when anything is affirmed utterly absurd and miraculous, it rather the more readily admits of such a fact, upon account of that very circumstance, which ought to destroy all its authority. The passion of surprise and wonder, arising from miracles, being an agreeable emotion, gives a sensible tendency towards the belief of those events, from which it is derived. And this goes so far, that even those who cannot enjoy this pleasure immediately, nor can believe those miraculous events, of which they are informed, yet love to partake of the satisfaction at secondhand or by rebound, and place a pride and delight in exciting the admiration of others. 17 With what greediness are the miraculous accounts of travelers received, their descriptions of sea and land monsters, their relations of wonderful adventures, strange men, and uncouth manners? But if the spirit of religion join itself to the love of wonder, there is an end of common sense; and human testimony, in these circumstances, loses all pretensions to authority. A religionist may be an enthusiast, and imagine he sees what has no reality: He may know his narrative to be false, and yet persevere in it, with the best intentions in the world, for the sake of promoting so holy a cause: Or even where this delusion has not place, vanity, excited by so strong a temptation, operates on him more powerfully than on the rest of mankind in any other circumstances; and self-interest with equal force. His auditors may not have, and commonly have not, sufficient judgment to canvass his evidence: What judgment they have, they renounce by principle, in these sublime and mysterious subjects: Or if they were ever so willing to employ it, passion and a heated imagination disturb the regularity of its operations. Their credulity increases his impudence: And his impudence overpowers their credulity.

I press the blue glass triangle to my lips and smile for Matt, my best-friend-that’s-a-boy, my last goodbye to the brokenhearted promise I carried like my journal for so long. Somewhere below the black frothy ocean, a banished mermaid reads my letters and weeps endlessly for a love she’ll never know – not for a single moment. Before the trip, Frankie and I set out to have the Absolute Best Summer Ever, the summer of twenty boys. We’ll never agree on the final count – whether the boys from Caroline’s should be included in the tally, whether the milk-shake man was too old to be considered a “boy,” whether her tattooed rock star interlude was anything other than a rebound. But in the end, there were only two boys who really mattered. Matt and Sam. When I close my eyes, I see Sam lying next to me on the blanket that first night we watched the stars – the night he made me look at everything in a different way; the breeze on my skin and the music and the ocean at night. But I also see Matt; his marzipan frosting kiss. All the books he read to me. His postcard fairy tales of California, finally coming to life in Zanzibar Bay. When I kissed Sam, I was so scared of erasing Matt. But now I know that I could never erase him. He’ll always be part of me – just in a different way. Like Sam, making smoothies on the beach two thousand miles away. Like Frankie, my voodoo magic butterfly finding her way back home in the dark. Like the stars, fading with the halo of the vanishing moon. Like the ocean, falling and whispering against the shore. Nothing ever really goes away – it just changes into something else. Something beautiful.

I would remind my reader that Donal was a Celt, with a nature open to every fancy of love or awe -- one of the same breed with the foolish Galatians, and like them ready to be bewitched; but bearing a heart that welcomed the light with glad rebound -- loved the lovely, nor loved it only, but turned towards it with desire to become like it. Fergus too was a Celt in the main, but was spoiled by the paltry ambition of being distinguished. He was not in love with loveliness, but in love with praise. He saw not a little of what was good and noble, and would fain be such, but mainly that men might regard him for his goodness and nobility; hence his practical notion of the good was weak, and of the noble, paltry. His one desire in doing anything, was to be approved of or admired in the same -- approved of in the opinions he held, in the plans he pursued, in the doctrines he taught . . .

The court is my escape and my paradise. I love basketball. I love the way you can be exhausted and sweaty and running with nine other guys, and yet, at the risk of sounding overly Zen, you are still so wonderfully alone. On the court, nothing bothers me. I see things a few seconds before they actually happen. I love anticipating a teammate’s cut and then throwing a bounce pass between two defenders. I love the rebound, boxing out, figuring angles and positioning myself, willing the ball into my hands. I love dribbling without looking down, the feel, the sense of trust, of control, almost as though the ball were on a leash. I love catching the pass, locking my eyes on the front rim, sliding my fingers into the grooves, raising the ball above my head, cocking my wrist as I begin to leap. I love the feel as I release the shot at the apex of the jump, the way my fingertips stay on the leather until the last possible moment, the way I slowly come back to the ground, the way the ball moves in an arc toward the rim, the way the bottom of the net dances when the ball goes swish. I

Matt takes some time to settle himself before he speaks. When he does, he shares an anecdote about how Julie had written a book for him to have after she was gone, and she titled it, The Shortest Longest Romance: An Epic Love and Loss Story. He loses it here, then slowly composes himself and keeps going. He explains that in the book, he was surprised to find that near the end of the story—their story—Julie had included a chapter on how she hoped Matt would always have love in his life. She encouraged him to be honest and kind to what she called his “grief girlfriends”—the rebound girlfriends, the women he’ll date as he heals. Don’t mislead them, she wrote. Maybe you can get something from each other. She followed this with a charming and hilarious dating profile that Matt could use to find his grief girlfriends, and then she got more serious. She wrote the most achingly beautiful love letter in the form of another dating profile that Matt could use to find the person he’d end up with for good. She talked about his quirks, his devotion, their steamy sex life, the incredible family she inherited (and that, presumably, this new woman would inherit), and what an amazing father he’d be. She knew this, she wrote, because they got to be parents together—though in utero and for only a matter of months. The people in the crowd are simultaneously crying and laughing by the time Matt finishes reading. Everyone should have at least one epic love story in their lives, Julie concluded. Ours was that for me. If we’re lucky, we might get two. I wish you another epic love story. We all think it ends there, but then Matt says that he feels it’s only fair that Julie have love wherever she is too. So in that spirit, he says, he’s written her a dating profile for heaven. There are a few chuckles, although they’re hesitant at first. Is this too morbid? But no, it’s exactly what Julie would have wanted, I think. It’s out-there and uncomfortable and funny and sad, and soon everyone is laugh-sobbing with abandon. She hates mushrooms, Matt has written to her heavenly beau, don’t serve her anything with mushrooms. And If there’s a Trader Joe’s, and she says that she wants to work there, be supportive. You’ll also get great discounts. He goes on to talk about how Julie rebelled against death in many ways, but primarily by what Matt liked to call “doing kindnesses” for others, leaving the world a better place than she found it. He doesn’t enumerate them, but I know what they are—and the recipients of her kindnesses all speak about them anyway.

why do you love him? Her face softened. Because in a world that cares nothing for orphans like me, he cares- Cha’Rolette Ilrica fidgeted uncomfortably, but then opened up. “Because in a world full of betrayal, he is loyal Zurra wiped a tear from her eye. “Because in a world that punishes mistakes, he forgives Trahzi placed her hand over her heart. “Because in a world that is cruel to weak things, he protects them.” Kalia looked at her hands and smiled. “Because in a world that pronounces judgment, he offers mercy.” Lyssandra blushed and gave a timid little smile. “Because in a world full of apathy, he dares to act.

So,” the Emperor said, slapping his knee. “The Spy, the Mafiosa, the Traitor, the Demon, the Assassin, and the Pirate. That’s quite the harem you’ve got there.” “They are those things, your Highness. I won’t deny it. But they are not those things to me.” The Emperor stroked his beard. “Really? What are they to you?” Gerald’s expression became tender. “Ilrica is my hero, Cha’Rolette is my angel, Zurra is my true friend, Trahzi is my gentle goddess, Kalia is my protector, and Lyssandra is my champion.

As a basketball coach, I love to watch the player who rotates to provide defensive help, sets the proper angled screen to free up the three-point shooter, and blocks out the other team’s leading rebounder. Unfortunately, the majority of fans watching the game (and everybody reading the box score in the paper) miss these crucial elements in the win. Statistics just can’t properly measure the impact a player has on the game.

One day, I thought as I let my hands wander further down into his shirt. I think of one my favorite things about Nix was his slight tummy. I liked it so much because it made him real; not that weird fantasy that all women have of six pack abs that I never understood.

That we could be like normal people and live happily ever after. That a love like ours, while brief and intense, would really come only once in a lifetime.

Our team is young, but on the rise. Holly’s motto for them is “Same heart, same pride, same fight,” which I love. The kids, who include my last recruiting class, tell me they want to represent everything Tennessee has ever been about: hard work, defense, rebounding, and doing all the little things right.

I feel like an actress who’s losing her Schmidt while giving her Oscar acceptance speech: I have so many things to be thankful for! Thank you to the Academy of Hot Guy Arts and Sciences. For Vince Devlin’s penis. His mouth and hands and tongue. Thank you for his eyes and voice and the way he smells. For all the exciting places he’s been taking me—in New York and inside my own heart and mind. For giving me this opportunity to experience love in this new way. Also, I’d like to thank whoever invented multiple orgasms, because wow. My skin is amazing right now.

I keep wanting to say “love you, bye” like a total pussy. Or maybe I just never want to say good-bye to her. I look around to make sure no one’s watching me through the glass walls of my office before lowering my hand and checking to make sure I still have balls.

You only fall in love once, The rest are just endless rebounds.

I won’t be a rebound or one night stand. When I make love to you, yes I’m going to make love to you and not fuck you, I want you to come to me with everything. I want the entire package—not just your body. I want you to think about that and decide if you can get past whatever or whoever it is clouding your heart. I’m playing for keeps.

When you hit hard tough stuff, do you feel flattened because of it or rebound in a new direction to keep living, loving, moving, and growing? Improving your bounce-ability factor will help you rock your resilience to handle setbacks, adversity, and challenges with confidence.

In all their afflictions He was afflicted.” Then Christ bore the first stroke of this cross: it rebounded off Him upon you, and ye got it at the second hand, and He and ye are halvers in it. And I shall believe for my part, He mindeth to distil heaven out of this loss, and all others the like; for wisdom devised it, and love laid it on, and Christ owneth it as His own, and putteth your shoulder only beneath a piece of it.

A real man looks at your flaws and loves them because they’re a part of you. He doesn’t look at you just as a right now. He looks to the future.

I know – we all are experiencing a never ever seen global pandemic, tragic events all over, lack of governance, declining health, constant fear of loosing loved ones, loss of income & facing so many other severe challenges in our daily lives. Undoubtedly, this is a time of unprecedented struggle & upheaval for everyone. But darling, there are people who are genuinely coping up with troubling times. They are able to handle time of adversity in better way & are better at tolerating all the associated feelings of stress, anxiety & sadness. If you will notice, you will see that these people will also rebound from these setbacks much quickly & mostly will become much better than they were before these terrible days. Have you ever heard the phrase “Pressure Makes Diamonds?” That’s the secret. I want you to also hold on, become more resilient, maintain a positive outlook, feel strong, amazing & remind yourself that you too have the favor of God. So far you survived 100 percent of your worst days & you are doing reasonably okay! Remember strength does not come from what you can do. It comes from overcoming the things you once thought you couldn’t. If you can prepare & change your thoughts, attitudes, beliefs & philosophies, if you can do your best with whatever you have – for sure, you can grow as person, push the boundaries & experience a abundant & more fulfilling life. Let you reset, recharge & rewire your brain for excelling in life no matter what’s going on, reconnect to what gives you fulfilment & realign your life around your real priorities & purpose. I am praying God to strengthen you in all your tests, trials & tribulations. Let you get through these collective & personal tough times satisfyingly & most successfully. Blessings!

What an opportunity the senior Bachchan lost to make a difference to the prejudiced heads by making a statement against the mangalik nonsense. Oh how small really the Big B is, and how big the media made Diana the small. It’s incredible how her quest for lust was portrayed as her search for love! No faulting her taking a lover on the rebound as her man thrust a rival into her marital life but for the media to picture her bed hopping as her craving for love is galling indeed. Why in picturing Diana as the icon of love the media made lust a synonym of love and what’s worse, it made a villain out of her man who embodies the best of love that is constancy.

Love on the rebound is always suspect. Perhaps because, on the rebound, passion may not have the projectile capacity of the first bounce.

We pray that no one will go to Hell. The Catholic Church actively petitions for the salvation of all humanity. The Catholic must hold, under the threat of anathema, that God desires all to be saved, that he creates no being whom he wishes to be damned. While this saving action is the initiative of God alone, he undertakes this saving action in and through his Church, his body of believers on Earth. Saint Paul argues as much when he says that by his sufferings he is “filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ” (Colossians 1:24). If these premises are true, then the question of Hell always involves the questioner existentially, not simply because it is his eternal destiny that is discussed, but also because these premises make him coresponsible for the eternal destiny of others. A person’s prayers, fastings, and sufferings are effective participations in the cross of Christ. They are the manner in which God has chosen to enact his desire to save all of humanity. One may take this “effective participation” in terms of merit and intercession, as when one prays that a person will not go to Hell, but one may also take this in a more mundane manner. If I get up from writing this article, cross the hall, and begin speaking with a colleague about Jesus, this action may help him reach Heaven. Through that conversation and others, he may develop the courage required to love God rather than reject him. I am, through the practice of charity, “doing the work of Christ,” that is, participating in the salvific plan of God. The question of whether or not souls will suffer eternal torment rebounds upon the questioner, whose free actions join in the divine plan to save all souls from eternal torment. The argument can be summed up as follows: Q: How can a just God allow souls to suffer Hell? A: I don’t know, how can you?

You can’t make people love you. You can’t change people who don’t deserve the honor.

Don’t, Mum, it’s only temporary.” She pulled me in for a goodbye hug. “Sweetie, all the best love affairs are.

I look at you and all I see is the man I love. The man who took a chance on me when I had no idea what I wanted from him. I look at you and see a far better man than I could ever deserve.

Purified thought has an even more powerful effect. Spoken language uses sound which restricts its impact to our solar system (sound waves eventually dissipate), but language cloaked in thought travels at an almost inconceivable speed and literally rebounds off the walls of our universe (only pure love can rupture the walls of a universe — see the 25th Gene Key). Therefore a pure thought will affect all levels of creation and all beings within creation almost instantaneously.

And I hope one day, when you realise I’m right about this, that you lie awake in deep regret that those words were the last thing you ever said to me.

This guy isn’t offering you the world, he’s offering you the same thing he always has: the bare minimum. He’s holding you back and you know it. If you concede, you’ll resent him forever.

Being born is the greatest risk of all. We’re not sure how life will work out. But we’re here, and we have to try. Otherwise, all the karmic forces will send us rebounding back to Earth with no more consciousness than when we did our last round. We need to learn how to make our living, dying, and returning an entirely conscious, loving, and safe process.

One of the most common variations of breakup advice is to get back on the horse. Another version is when unimaginative people inform you of how many fish there are in the sea. The problem with these so-called “insightful” consultations is that they are far too preoccupied with animals when we need to be looking at humans here.

No one deserves to be a temporary fix, no one deserves to be the rebound, no one deserves to come second. No one deserves to be treated less than, no one deserves to be treated unfairly, no one deserves to be treated badly. No one should be bad in love, no one should be selfish in love, no one should be abusive in love

We all have our issues, it’s just some of us are better at hiding them from the world than others.

Reality rebounds, and things turn out the opposite of what they seem and what people expect. Strength becomes weakness; love becomes pornography; pleasure becomes boredom; and so on.

For the past three months I've been lodged in the staring-out-the-window-and burning-toast stage of grief. According to Dr. Rupert, I had a depressive breakdown brought on by grief...as though showing up at the office in your bathrobe is perfectly understandable. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of everyone else dying and leaving me behind. You don't feel as though you're having a conversation, ore as though you're listening to a book on tape, the title "Steve the Sales Guy Goes on a Dinner Date". Isn't there some way around having to start this new life without my husband? I can't return Crystal as though she's an appliance that broke before the warranty expired. I'm significant otherless. By the time he calls, maybe I'll be a ndw person with self-confidence and cute comebacks. Straight hair, a better job, a smaller waistline. How could I have managed to lose my husband, my job, my house, and my ass all in one year? I'm so eager for intimacy, I would date a tree. It's a myth that people experience grief for a certain amount of time and then they're over it. Nine of the fifteen pounds I want to lose cling to me like an overprotective mother who doesn't want me to take my pants off until I'm married again. Good-riddance list. It's a list of all the stuff you don't like about a guy. You're supposed to make it when you break up with someone. It's funny how you don't have to be related to someone to love them like family. Dangerous rebound guy. My grief is diminished, but it feels permanent, like a scar. Another grief gold star. Marion & Crystal moved in with me. How can I live happily ever after without loving someone again?

But there are human beings who, though of necessity single in body, are dual in character; — in whose breasts not only is evil always fighting against good, — but to whom evil is sometimes horribly, hideously evil, but is sometimes also not hideous at all. Of such men it may be said that Satan obtains an intermittent grasp, from which, when it is released, the rebound carries them high amidst virtuous resolutions and a thorough love of things good and noble. Such men, — or women, — may hardly, perhaps, debase themselves with the more vulgar vices. They will not be rogues, or thieves, or drunkards, — or, perhaps, liars; but ambition, luxury, self-indulgence, pride, and covetousness will get a hold of them, and in various moods will be to them virtues in lieu of vices.

Don't let fear ruin the chance at something beautiful. - Tirry Jelham

Neither knows the other yet. Hence they must tell each other: "This is what I am." This is narrative bliss, the kind which both fulfills and delays knowledge, in a word, restarts it. In the amorous encounter, I keep rebounding - I am light.

I’m not with anyone,” I say, the words thick on my tongue. Being in love with a man doesn’t count. He was my guardian, and briefly—so briefly it sometimes feels like a dream—my lover. “Oh good,” he says, flashing a mischievous smile. “I thought you might be with that strapping security guard out front. I left my entourage with him. In that case, you and I can have plenty of rebound sex to help you get over whoever it is you left behind.” “Do women actually say yes to this?” “I find the direct approach gets us to the destination faster.

The venomous words of evil men may pierce the air, but they will never penetrate the armor of a godly woman's faith. For she stands secure in the shadow of the Almighty, her defense is Jesus, and no weapon formed against her will prosper. Their manipulative lies and accusations will rebound upon their own heads, for the Lord is her refuge and her vindicator. She will not be shaken, for her roots run deep in the love of God, and her hope is anchored in the unshakeable rock of His promises. Isaiah 54:17 - "No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is from Me," says the Lord.