Mount Everest Inspirational Quotes

You need mountains, long staircases don't make good hikers.

I was inspired to write (Life Continues) to tell people dealing with MS or any other illness that if opening your eyes, or getting out of bed, or holding a spoon, or combing your hair is the daunting Mount Everest you climb today, that is okay.

Never let failure discourage you. Every time you get to the base of a mountain (literal or metaphorical), you're presented with a new opportunity to challenge yourself, to push your limits beyond what you thought possible, to learn from climbers on the trail ahead of you, and to take in some amazing views. Your performance on the mountain you climbed last week or last month or last year doesn't matter - because it's all about what you are doing right now.

Nikt nie wszedł na Mount Everest chodząc bez celu po okolicy

Nothing is impossible in this world, all you need is courage and hardwork.

The real flight of this hawk is impending. Still,this bird is yet to be tested for real. Though I have leaped over the seas, well,the entire sky is still remaining to fly. And make sure that ,i am gonna do it with all my heart and all my soul. #loveyoourlife #liveyourlife #hvFUN

Trekking means a travelling experience with a thrilling excitement.

To become a better 'player' of the game, it is very important to keep practicing and have self-control.

Well said!!! The best view comes after the hardest climb and to reach to the peak one has to cross many tiny foothills.

Seeing the name Hillary in a headline last week—a headline about a life that had involved real achievement—I felt a mouse stirring in the attic of my memory. Eventually, I was able to recall how the two Hillarys had once been mentionable in the same breath. On a first-lady goodwill tour of Asia in April 1995—the kind of banal trip that she now claims as part of her foreign-policy 'experience'—Mrs. Clinton had been in Nepal and been briefly introduced to the late Sir Edmund Hillary, conqueror of Mount Everest. Ever ready to milk the moment, she announced that her mother had actually named her for this famous and intrepid explorer. The claim 'worked' well enough to be repeated at other stops and even showed up in Bill Clinton's memoirs almost a decade later, as one more instance of the gutsy tradition that undergirds the junior senator from New York. Sen. Clinton was born in 1947, and Sir Edmund Hillary and his partner Tenzing Norgay did not ascend Mount Everest until 1953, so the story was self-evidently untrue and eventually yielded to fact-checking. Indeed, a spokeswoman for Sen. Clinton named Jennifer Hanley phrased it like this in a statement in October 2006, conceding that the tale was untrue but nonetheless charming: 'It was a sweet family story her mother shared to inspire greatness in her daughter, to great results I might add.' Perfect. It worked, in other words, having been coined long after Sir Edmund became a bankable celebrity, but now its usefulness is exhausted and its untruth can safely be blamed on Mummy.

There is a dark side to religious devotion that is too often ignored or denied. As a means of motivating people to be cruel or inhumane -- as a means of inciting evil, to borrow the vocabulary of the devout -- there may be no more potent force than religion. When the subject of religiously inspired bloodshed comes up, many Americans immediately think of Islamic fundamentalism, which is to be expected in the wake of the September 11 attacks on New York and Washington. But men have been committing heinous acts in the name of God ever since mankind began believing in deities, and extremists exist within all religions. Muhammad is not the only prophet whose words have been used to sanction barbarism; history has not lacked for Christians, Jews, Hindus, Sikhs, and even Buddhists who have been motivated by scripture to butcher innocents. Plenty of these religious extremists have been homegrown, corn-fed Americans. Faith-based violence was present long before Osama bin Laden, and it ill be with us long after his demise. Religious zealots like bin Laden, David Koresh, Jim Jones, Shoko Asahara, and Dan Lafferty are common to every age, just as zealots of other stripes are. In any human endeavor, some fraction of its practitioners will be motivated to pursue that activity with such concentrated focus and unalloyed passion that it will consume them utterly. One has to look no further than individuals who feel compelled to devote their lives to becoming concert pianists, say, or climbing Mount Everest. For some, the province of the extreme holds an allure that's irresistible. And a certain percentage of such fanatics will inevitably fixate on the matters of the spirit. The zealot may be outwardly motivated by the anticipation of a great reward at the other end -- wealth, fame, eternal salvation -- but the real recompense is probably the obsession itself. This is no less true for the religious fanatic than for the fanatical pianist or fanatical mountain climber. As a result of his (or her) infatuation, existence overflows with purpose. Ambiguity vanishes from the fanatic's worldview; a narcissistic sense of self-assurance displaces all doubt. A delicious rage quickens his pulse, fueled by the sins and shortcomings of lesser mortals, who are soiling the world wherever he looks. His perspective narrows until the last remnants of proportion are shed from his life. Through immoderation, he experiences something akin to rapture. Although the far territory of the extreme can exert an intoxicating pull on susceptible individuals of all bents, extremism seems to be especially prevalent among those inclined by temperament or upbringing toward religious pursuits. Faith is the very antithesis of reason, injudiciousness a crucial component of spiritual devotion. And when religious fanaticism supplants ratiocination, all bets are suddenly off. Anything can happen. Absolutely anything. Common sense is no match for the voice of God...

Contrary to popular belief, there are peaks higher than Mount Everest. These are the hurdles that lie within each of us. Thank you Stephen Hawking for showing us that they are not insurmountable

Beck Weathers was a Texan who worked studying diseases as a pathologist. He became fascinated with the act of mountaineering, or climbing tall mountains. He got really into it. Eventually, he found himself attempting to climb to the top of the tallest mountain on earth, Mount Everest. Unfortunately for Beck, he had eye surgery before his trip. As he kept getting higher and higher up the mountain, his vision kept getting worse. Although a blind person has made it to the top of Everest before, it’s really helpful to be able to see when you’re climbing mountains. Especially if everyone on your team isn’t expecting you to become blind up there. One wrong step can mean death on Everest. Rob Hall was a professional mountaineer. He was getting paid to take eight clients up the mountain and Beck was one of them. When you climb Everest, you do some of your climbing at night. As night fell, Beck’s vision got even worse. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to make it to the top. Rob told him that the safest thing to do was to wait where he was and the rest of the group would help him down after they had been to the top. They would meet back up with Beck on their way down. Beck was pretty grumpy about this but realized that he had no choice. His dream of getting to the top of the world’s tallest mountain would have to wait.

Through poorly managed drag or friction, we waste two-thirds of the energy we produce and, by so doing; we're destroying our environment and atmosphere three times the rate than if we didn't waste energy. The United States burns two billion dollars' worth of oil every day. The world burns four cubic miles of nonrenewable fossil fuels every year. That's a mound four miles long, four miles wide, and four miles high, equivalent to 21,120 feet-the highest mountain in the Andes or three-quarters the height of Mount Everest. We're very clever and resourceful extracting and processing more and more fossil fuels but we're pouring that energy into a bucket full of holes. We're wasting a large part of this energy by trying to force flow into straight lines.

Eventually, at 7:22 A.M. on the morning of May 26, 1998, with tears still pouring down my frozen cheeks, the summit of Mount Everest opened her arms and welcomed me in. As if she now considered me somehow worthy of this place. My pulse raced, and in a haze I found myself suddenly standing on top of the world. Alan embraced me, mumbling excitedly into his mask. Neil was still staggering toward us. As he approached, the wind began to die away. The sun was now rising over the hidden land of Tibet, and the mountains beneath us were bathed in a crimson red. Neil knelt and crossed himself on the summit. Then, together, with our masks of, we hugged as brothers. I got to my feet and began to look around. I swore that I could see halfway around the world. The horizon seemed to bend at the edges. It was the curvature of our earth. Technology can put a man on the moon but not up here. There truly was some magic to this place. The radio suddenly crackled to my left. Neil spoke into it excitedly. “Base camp. We’ve run out of earth.” The voice on the other end exploded with jubilation. Neil passed the radio to me. For weeks I had planned what I would say if I reached the top, but all that just fell apart. I strained into the radio and spoke without thinking. “I just want to get home.” The memory of what went on then begins to fade. We took several photos with both the SAS and the DLE flags flying on the summit, as promised, and I scooped some snow into an empty Juice Plus vitamin bottle I had with me.* It was all I would take with me from the summit. I remember having some vague conversation on the radio--patched through from base camp via a satellite phone--with my family some three thousand miles away: the people who had given me the inspiration to climb. But up there, the time flew by, and like all moments of magic, nothing can last forever. We had to get down. It was already 7:48 A.M. Neil checked my oxygen. “Bear, you’re right down. You better get going, buddy, and fast.” I had just under a fifth of a tank to get me back to the Balcony. I heaved the pack and tank onto my shoulders, fitted my mask, and turned around. The summit was gone. I knew that I would never see it again. *Years later, Shara and I christened our three boys with this snow water from Everest’s summit. Life moments.

Years ago, when I first started mountaineering, I was impetuous, heady, rash, impatient, prideful and arrogant. I in my mind, was both impervious and impregnable, "nothing could stop me," or so I thought. Then, I came face-to-face with Mount Everest for the first time, and she quickly humbled me. She forced me to do away with the false machismo, the fake toughness and the phony bravado, and in return, she blessed me with the gifts of comity, heightened inner-peace, calmness, and steadiness of both spirit and mind. Those blessings were gifts, gifts that rewrote my limbic system, and altered my pneuma. I now climb with laser clarity and aplomb. Less ardor, more piety born of apathetic ataraxia.