Nickname Inspiring Quotes

Most of us have nicknames—annoying, endearing, embarrassing. But what about your true name? It is not necessarily your given name. But it is the one to which you are most eager to respond when called. Ever wonder why? Your true name has the secret power to call you.

Assembling a coherent portrait of Muhammad’s life required piecing together scattered fragments and structuring them in an organized manner. What emerged from the reconstruction was the realization that Muhammad had endured terrible setbacks and traumatic suffering, only to turn his brokenness into an asset, unlocking latent abilities to improve the world around him. Moved by his own experience in overcoming challenges, Muhammad dedicated himself to inspiring others to see their imperfections as the very source of their potential. Despite all the pain, Muhammad refused to see himself as a victim. His nickname al- Badr Laylat At-Tamam (the fullest moon) referred to illumination of the darkness by his bright shining face.

That's what I've always found so pathetic about fans. They weep when they have a live glimpse of you, frame the fork you touched. Yet they're impervious to doing anything with that inspiration, like enriching their own lives. It drove Stanny-boy crazy. He used to say to me, 'Huey'—it was his nickname for me—'Huey, they see the films five times, write me fan letters, but the underlying meaning is lost on them. They take nothing away. Not heroism. Not courage. It's all just entertainment.

...Temperance, which they nickname Unmanliness...

I hear a lot of black dudes call each other niggers or nigga. Why? Then we as blacks are upset when another race calls us the ‘N’ word. Do we really have the right to be upset? No, we do not because we can’t expect other races not to call us the ‘N’ word if we call each other the ‘N’ word. So I say once again, and I cannot say this enough. We should respect ourselves and each other. We should be ashamed to use the word … the nickname if you will … that white people made up for us. It is not okay for a black person to use the word Nigger or Nigga so loosely!

I scan my apps to find a new notification—it’s from Instagram. One new follower. I gasp when I open it. Graeme Cracker_Collins has followed me. Graham Cracker. My own private nickname for him. My heart gallops and my chest aches. I click on the tiny photo of Graeme, his face smiling at me from underneath his windswept hair. He’s posted three photos from the Galápagos, and one of them is of me, although you can’t exactly tell. It’s the one he snapped in the highlands. A sunburst obscures most of my face, casting it in shadow, but the outline of my profile cuts a dramatic figure against the trees. I tap on the photo to read the caption. Graeme Cracker_Collins: To the woman who inspired me to rejoin the world, “thank you” will never be enough. Graeme already has more than two hundred followers, many of whom have left messages of love and welcome. Clearly, friends and extended family. Ryan_Collins206 commented on the photo of me: “Who is this woman? I need to give her a kiss.” I swallow past the painful lump in my throat. Graeme has officially returned to the world. Heart cracking, I follow him back.

The use of the term Dixie as a nickname for the South was inspired by the popularity throughout the United States of the Louisiana “Dix”, or $10 banknote, issued by New Orleans firms.

It’s no wonder that a majority of voters now believe Hillary is not “honest and trustworthy.” Americans won’t vote for a self-dealing phony who perfects her craft by learning from a husband whose well deserved nickname is “Slick Willie.” (Hillary may be relying on millennial voters not having a recollection of the Lincoln Bedroom-selling, foreign donation-receiving, intern-diddling sleaze-fest that was the Clinton presidency. But she won’t inspire young voters — who are particularly intolerant of hypocrisy — the way Barack Obama did.)

God loves each one of us in a unique and special way. And though we may not have a cute nickname for those close to us, we need to let them know that we treasure them as a one-of-a-kind.

The reason for her nickname is lost. The problem is that we don’t know what eighteenth-century sailors understood by ‘saucy’; if it’s similar to how we understand it, it may have had very important subtle variations.

Nicknamed Yildirim (“Thunderbolt”), Bayezid I inspired his subjects due to his brave, chivalrous, and charismatic

During the pause while I was changing my string, the frenzied audience would often break into a slow handclap, inspiring Giorgio to dream up the nickname of “Slow hand” Clapton.

A FRIENDSHIP LETTER It's true! Friends, we choose them! There are different types of friends: childhood friend, first friend, school friend, work pal, ... Sometimes, we even nickname them as (my love, my life, my one, my all, ...); and yeah, it is good. Unfortunately, as human beings, everything comes to an end. But let me remind you that there is an other kind of friendship, an everlasting friendship that we find in Jesus Christ. He proved his friendship by sacrificing his life on the cross for his unknown friends and He is the one who choose us first! As I conclude, I like how we do our best for our friends. But as a piece of advice I can give, never disappoint your Eternal Friend Jesus Christ by pleasing your temporary friend! And around the corner, the Eternal Friend is coming back. Maranatha.

The biggest challenge for communicators today is found in the story of the loneliest whale in the world. This whale—nicknamed Blue 52 by scientists in the early nineties—was discovered traversing the seas and singing on a unique frequency. Year after year, its migration pathway took it across several thousand miles but, no matter how many signals it sent out, those signals failed to evoke a response from any of its own kind.

Who would Betsy be?" "That's my truck," he said. "You named it Betsy?" she asked. "For real?" Sawyer waved what was left of his cookie at her. "You have ducks on your pj's, don't judge." "And she was inspired by who?" Sydney said with a smirk, her eyes dropping to his lips when he turned to her. "Your first love?" "If I would've done that," he said softly, "her name would have been Squeak." Bam. Sidney's heart felt like it reached out and slammed against every possible surface at once.

It gives the building a Gothic, cathedral-like appearance that’s inspired a similarly religious nickname—St. Bart’s.

Getting his job as president of Morgan Stanley had been a struggle, and Mack was there to stay. Years earlier, he had ousted former president Robert Greenhill in a palace coup while Greenhill was on the ski slopes entertaining clients. Greenhill had not been a pushover; his tightly knit group of loyalists had earned the nickname Branch Davidians. Nevertheless, after a bitter contest, Mack had won, and Greenhill’s group, like the Waco, Texas, cult, was out. Mack was a charismatic leader, charming as well as intimidating. One Morgan Stanley manager described him as “the best salesman I’ve ever seen.” He scheduled informal lunches with all of the lowest-level employees at Morgan Stanley, in groups. His office had two glass canisters filled with candies and a gumball machine, to encourage colleagues to stop by and chat. Mack was worshipped for his patriotic addresses to the firm as well as his inspiring locker-room pep talks. Even the most hard-hearted of Morgan Stanley’s managers were moved by Mack’s most stirring speeches. He had given many of them goosebumps, and even made a few cry. Mack seemed adept enough to resolve just about any conflict. When the trustees of socialite Doris Duke’s $1.2 billion estate needed someone to step in and settle the brawl over her estate, including accusations of murder, whom did they ask? John Mack.

dating question -What do you want from this world? -To have a wardrobe. In his first meeting with Katrina, she asked him a dating question, and his answer was unconventional, he wished he could buy a wardrobe, in which he put his belongings, a metaphor for the instability in his life, so how does he do this, while he is without a homeland, without a home, moving from place to another, carrying a bag containing a few of his personal belongings. About to cheat on Khadija, the curiosity in the intelligence man’s mind overpowered him, the desire for knowledge, exploration, information, and a thirst for more details, the smallest details. Plan the process with the mentality of a computer programmer, “I will leave them a loophole in the system, they will hack me through it, and to do this they have to open their doors to send their code, and at this very moment, I am sending my code in the opposite direction. The most vulnerable account devices to hack are the hackers themselves. They enter the systems through special ports, which are opened to them by the so-called Trojan horse, a type of virus, with which they target the victim, open loopholes for them, infiltrate through them, and in both cases, they, in turn, have to open ports on their devices to complete the connection, from which they can be hacked backward. Katrina is a Trojan horse, he will not close the ports in front of her, she must succeed in penetrating him, and she will be his bridge connecting them, he will sneak through her, to the most secret and terrifying place in the world, a journey that leads him to the island of Malta, to enter the inevitable den. This is how the minds of investigators and intelligence men work, they must open the outlets of their minds to the fullest, to collect information, receive it, and deal with it, and that is why their minds are the most vulnerable to penetration, manipulation, and passing misleading information to them. It is almost impossible to convince a simple man, that there is life outside the planet, the outlets of his mind are closed, he is not interested in knowledge, nor is he collecting information, and the task of entering him is difficult, they call him the mind of the crocodile, a mind that is solid, closed, does not affect anything and is not affected by anything, He has his own convictions, he never changes them. While scientists, curious, intellectuals, investigators, and intelligence men, the ports of their minds are always open. And just as hackers can penetrate websites by injecting their URL addresses with programming phrases, they can implant their code into the website’s database, and pull information from it. The minds of such people can also be injected, with special codes, some of them have their minds ready for injection, and one or two injections are sufficient to prepare for the next stage, and for some, dozens of injections are not enough, and some of them injected their minds themselves, by meditation, thinking, and focusing on details, as Ruslan did. Khadija did not need more than three injections, but he trusted the love that brought them together, there is no need, she knew a lot about him in advance, and she will trust him and believe him. Her mind would not be able to get her away, or so he wished, the woman’s madness had not been given its due. What he is about to do now, and the revenge videos that she is going to receive will remain in her head forever, and will be her brain’s weapon to escape, when he tries to get her out of the box. From an early age, he did not enjoy safety and stability, he lived in the midst of hurricanes of chaos, and the heart of randomness. He became the son of shadows and their master. He deserved the nickname he called himself “Son of Chaos.

Torloo wriggled closer, breathed deeply, and sighed his way to a smile. “Hello, Uncle Jackie.” “Hello, Petal Moon.” Blue eyes shone with delight over Jacques’ nickname for him. Such endearments were treasured by wolves, who valued them as a reflection of the bonds that inspired them. Lord. Why had he never come up with one for Sonnet?

A pen name is a nickname.

Meditation + Mental Strength An emotion is our evolved biology predicting the future impact of a current event. In modern settings, it’s usually exaggerated or wrong. Why is meditation so powerful? Your breath is one of the few places where your autonomic nervous system meets your voluntary nervous system. It’s involuntary, but you can also control it. I think a lot of meditation practices put an emphasis on the breath because it is a gateway into your autonomic nervous system. There are many, many cases in the medical and spiritual literature of people controlling their bodies at levels that should be autonomous. Your mind is such a powerful thing. What’s so unusual about your forebrain sending signals to your hindbrain and your hindbrain routing resources to your entire body? You can do it just by breathing. Relaxed breathing tells your body you’re safe. Then, your forebrain doesn’t need as many resources as it normally does. Now, the extra energy can be sent to your hindbrain, and it can reroute those resources to the rest of your body. I’m not saying you can beat whatever illness you have just because you activated your hindbrain. But you’re devoting most of the energy normally required to care about the external environment to the immune system. I highly recommend listening to the Tim Ferriss’s podcast with Wim Hof. He is a walking miracle. Wim’s nickname is the Ice Man. He holds the world record for the longest time spent in an ice bath and swimming in freezing cold water. I was very inspired by him, not only because he’s capable of super-human physical feats, but because he does it while being incredibly kind and happy—which is not easy to accomplish. He advocates cold exposure, because he believes people are too separate from their natural environment. We’re constantly clothed, fed, and warm. Our bodies have lost touch with the cold. The cold is important because it can activate the immune system. So, he advocates taking long ice baths. Being from the Indian subcontinent, I’m strongly against the idea of ice baths. But Wim inspired me to give cold showers a try. And I did so by using the Wim Hof breathing method. It involves hyperventilating to get more oxygen into your blood, which raises your core temperature. Then, you can go into the shower. The first few cold showers were hilarious because I’d slowly ease myself in, wincing the entire way. I started about four or five months ago. Now, I turn the shower on full-blast, and then I walk right in. I don’t give myself any time to hesitate. As soon as I hear the voice in my head telling me how cold it’s going to be, I know I have to walk in. I learned a very important lesson from this: most of our suffering comes from avoidance. Most of the suffering from a cold shower is the tip-toeing your way in. Once you’re in, you’re in. It’s not suffering. It’s just cold. Your body saying it’s cold is different than your mind saying it’s cold. Acknowledge your body saying it’s cold. Look at it. Deal with it. Accept it, but don’t mentally suffer over it. Taking a cold shower for two minutes isn’t going to kill you. Having a cold shower helps you re-learn that lesson every morning. Now hot showers are just one less thing I need out of life. [2] Meditation is intermittent fasting for the mind. Too much sugar leads to a heavy body, and too many distractions lead to a heavy mind. Time spent undistracted and alone, in self-examination, journaling, meditation, resolves the unresolved and takes us from mentally fat to fit.

Nachama, his parents, and two sisters would eventually be rounded up and transported to a concentration camp, Auschwitz, in the spring of 1943. All but Nachama were gassed, and he would spend the next two years of living hell surviving on his wits, charm, and his extraordinary singing voice. Prisoner 116155, as was tattooed on Nachama’s wrist, entertained the camp guards, inspired and revived his fellow prisoners with his unique and powerful baritone, his popular rendition of “’O Sole Mio” gaining him the nickname “the singer of Auschwitz.

A management team brought in by George to restructure Lucasfilm seemed concerned mostly with cash flow, and as time went on, they became openly skeptical that our division would ever attract a buyer. This team was headed by two men with the same first name, whom Alvy and I nicknamed “the Dweebs” because they didn’t understand a thing about the business we were in. Those two guys threw around management consulting terms (they loved to tout their “corporate intuition” and constantly urged us to make “strategic alliances”), but they didn’t seem at all insightful about how to make us attractive to buyers or about which buyers to pursue. At one point, they called us into an office, sat us down, and said that to cut costs, we should lay off all our employees until after our division was sold—at which point we could discuss rehiring them. In addition to the emotional toll we knew this would take, what bugged us about this suggestion was that our real selling point—the thing that had attracted potential suitors thus far—was the talent we’d gathered. Without that, we had nothing. So, when our two like-minded overlords demanded a list of names of people to lay off, Alvy and I gave them two: his and mine.

For some inexplicable reason, Trump supporters hanging out in political chatrooms began using a green cartoon frog named Pepe as their symbol, pumping out pro-Trump memes with the image. Many of them were also World of Warcraft fans who have long used the word “kek” in place of “lol” for reasons too obscure and nerdy to go into. Then, oddly enough, they found out that there actually was an Egyptian god named Kek who was depicted as a man with a frog’s head. Some thought it was a mystical coincidence that shouldn’t be ignored, or at least should be made into a delightfully kooky storyline. They decided that Trump was a living version of Kek, hence the nickname “God Emperor.” Mostly for fun, a canon was created around the Cult of Kek. Adherents claim heritage to an ancient kingdom called “Kekistan” that was overtaken by “Cuckistan” and “Normistan.” They created their own flag, inspired by the German Nazi war flag, which is sometimes spotted at pro-Trump events.

I am not here for the men of this world--not as a scapegoat or a baby-maker, and certainly not solely for their sexual satisfaction. My purpose is far greater than shallow bullshit.

Should I call you Autie?” I say her nickname out loud. It’s adorable. “Actually, you should call her Pumpkin,” Julie says, nudging Autumn in the side. She turns to me. “No. No, do not call me that.” I chuckle, gripping the warm cup. Her cheeks are bright red. “Have a good day, Pumpkin.” It comes out in a deep gruff and she chews on the corner of her lip. “You too,” she whispers as I turn and walk toward the door.