Once Trust Is Broken Quotes

I'm not going to tell you to trust me, because that's a terrible idea.

For trust not him that hath once broken faith

Don't trust the person who has broken faith once.

Trust is like an antique, once it's broken, it can never be replaced

maybe trust is neither lost nor found, broken nor mended, but merely given.

Your eyes told me to trust you, your heart’s beat told me you were afraid of getting broken too, the only thing you didn’t tell me was how to let go once you were gone...

Once there was a boy,” said Jace. Clary interrupted immediately. “A Shadowhunter boy?” “Of course.” For a moment a bleak amusement colored his voice. Then it was gone. “When the boy was six years old, his father gave him a falcon to train. Falcons are raptors – killing birds, his father told him, the Shadowhunters of the sky. “The falcon didn’t like the boy, and the boy didn’t like it, either. Its sharp beak made him nervous, and its bright eyes always seemed to be watching him. It would slash at him with beak and talons when he came near: For weeks his wrists and hands were always bleeding. He didn’t know it, but his father had selected a falcon that had lived in the wild for over a year, and thus was nearly impossible to tame. But the boy tried, because his father told him to make the falcon obedient, and he wanted to please his father. “He stayed with the falcon constantly, keeping it awake by talking to it and even playing music to it, because a tired bird was meant to be easier to tame. He learned the equipment: the jesses, the hood, the brail, the leash that bound the bird to his wrist. He was meant to keep the falcon blind, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it – instead he tried to sit where the bird could see him as he touched and stroked its wings, willing it to trust him. Hee fed it from his hand, and at first it would not eat. Later it ate so savagely that its beak cut the skin of his palm. But the boy was glad, because it was progress, and because he wanted the bird to know him, even if the bird had to consume his blood to make that happen. “He began to see that the falcon was beautiful, that its slim wings were built for the speed of flight, that it was strong and swift, fierce and gentle. When it dived to the ground, it moved like likght. When it learned to circle and come to his wrist, he neary shouted with delight Sometimes the bird would hope to his shoulder and put its beak in his hair. He knew his falcon loved him, and when he was certain it was not just tamed but perfectly tamed, he went to his father and showed him what he had done, expecting him to be proud. “Instead his father took the bird, now tame and trusting, in his hands and broke its neck. ‘I told you to make it obedient,’ his father said, and dropped the falcon’s lifeless body to the ground. ‘Instead, you taught it to love you. Falcons are not meant to be loving pets: They are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed; it was broken.’ “Later, when his father left him, the boy cried over his pet, until eventually his father sent a servant to take the body of the bird away and bury it. The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he’d learned: that to love is to destroy, and that to be loved is to be the one destroyed.

Trust, is the stone thrown into the sea, sinking deep in all its murkiness, unable to see what it once lived and believed to be a promise.

It certainly is a puzzle.” He turned back to the broken road. “But sometimes to find the answer, you have to take a leap of faith.

I’m not going to tell you to trust me, because that’s a terrible idea. But you can believe that if I were going to have you harm Apollo, I wouldn’t be around when it happened.

Abandoned. The word alone sends shudders down a sensitive spine, troubling the thoughts of pained souls as their hurt swells in ripples. It is a sentence of undesired solitude often pronounced on the innocent, the trusting—administered without warning or satisfactory cause. One day the moon is yours, or so you believe. The next, his countenance transforms from Jekyll to Hyde with no intention of ever turning back, and you are left trampled upon in a deserted street, concealed by dirty fog that squelches all illumination or any hope for future rays of light. It is the worst of mysteries why a beast considered noble would forsake his duty, exhibiting a heart of stone. And all who once looked on him, now turn down their eyes and suffer, beguiled. Some poisons have no antidote, but are slow, silent, torturous ends that curl up the broken body swept into a cold, dark corner. There she is left to drown in her tears—a dying heart. Abandoned.

She opened her eyes and didn't wonder anymore. He tells her everyday how beautiful she is to him, that she is his favorite, his only his love. That when the sun comes up every morning he chooses her and that he always will. And today, for whatever reason she rested in his reassurance. She finally released all the broken promises in her past and believed she could trust her heart just this once more.

I told you once I would never let you fall, Aesa ... And you're falling. You just don't see it.' 'No, you're wrong,' I snapped ...'I've already fallen. You just don't want to see it.

Betraying someone once can be a mistake. Betraying someone twice is a choice.

Once trust is broken, it can never be replaced. That’s an important life lesson, Carl.

I trusted her not to be careless with my heart or with my feelings. I trusted her to understand and to accept what might be broken or imperfect. In some dusty corner there may be things I tossed away, forgotten, things that might once have shamed me. I trusted her with those things too. I trusted her to accept me as she found me and to love me as I was, as I loved her.

She wonders if trust, once lost, can ever truly be found again, and if she’s being a fool (...). She decides she doesn’t care, that maybe trust is neither lost nor found, broken nor mended, but merely given. Decided, despite the risk (...).

You've been my teachers, clergy, my fellow students, coworkers, bosses, principals, sometimes you were a former friend or even family I once trusted. You've taken things I told you in utter confidence, & twisted them into lies to be used against me. Without cause, you have told lies against me. You have refused to see me as a human being. You have kicked me when I was up & you have kicked me when I was down. But today, you will kick me no more, I will no longer be your verbal or physical punching bag, Today, I discovered the secret that will never allow you or friends, who will one day turn on you too, to hurt me again. Today as I lay broken & bleeding in that dark place I crawl into when I think I can't take it anymore, I found something extraordinary. My humanity. As my soul screamed in bleeding agony & I wanted to die rather than live one more day in a world where you exist, I realized that my tears & ability to feel pain without lashing out to return that hurt to someone else makes me human.

Sebastian tapped his index finger on the polished wood thoughtfully. Yes, it was a universal truth: some things once broken were broken forever—like trust. It might be patched up and smoothed over, but it would always be the thing that had once been shattered.

After all, belief was like glass - once broken it could be pieced back together but the fissures would always be there.

Trust is like a vase...once it's broken, though it can be fixed the vase will never be the same

Surely trust is never truly broken, but merely lost.” Beatrice’s lips twist. “And what is lost, that can’t be found?

trust is neither lost nor found, broken nor mended, but merely given.

Trust is like a china plate. If you break it once, with some care and attention you can put it back together again. But if you break it again, it splits into even more pieces and it takes far longer to piece together again. If you break it more and more times, eventually it shatters to the point where it’s impossible to restore. There are too many broken pieces, and too much dust.

Nina was in it with all of her heart now, as only those who have been hurt and learned to trust again truly can be. It is as if once your heart has been broken you will learn the deepest reserves it carries. And she had given up her reserves as well this time.

Get Comfortable Not Knowing There once was a village that had among its people a very wise old man. The villagers trusted this man to provide them answers to their questions and concerns. One day, a farmer from the village went to the wise man and said in a frantic tone, “Wise man, help me. A horrible thing has happened. My ox has died and I have no animal to help me plow my field! Isn’t this the worst thing that could have possibly happened?” The wise old man replied, “Maybe so, maybe not.” The man hurried back to the village and reported to his neighbors that the wise man had gone mad. Surely this was the worst thing that could have happened. Why couldn’t he see this? The very next day, however, a strong, young horse was seen near the man’s farm. Because the man had no ox to rely on, he had the idea to catch the horse to replace his ox—and he did. How joyful the farmer was. Plowing the field had never been easier. He went back to the wise man to apologize. “You were right, wise man. Losing my ox wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. It was a blessing in disguise! I never would have captured my new horse had that not happened. You must agree that this is the best thing that could have happened.” The wise man replied once again, “Maybe so, maybe not.” Not again, thought the farmer. Surely the wise man had gone mad now. But, once again, the farmer did not know what was to happen. A few days later the farmer’s son was riding the horse and was thrown off. He broke his leg and would not be able to help with the crop. Oh no, thought the man. Now we will starve to death. Once again, the farmer went to the wise man. This time he said, “How did you know that capturing my horse was not a good thing? You were right again. My son is injured and won’t be able to help with the crop. This time I’m sure that this is the worst thing that could have possibly happened. You must agree this time.” But, just as he had done before, the wise man calmly looked at the farmer and in a compassionate tone replied once again, “Maybe so, maybe not.” Enraged that the wise man could be so ignorant, the farmer stormed back to the village. The next day troops arrived to take every able-bodied man to the war that had just broken out. The farmer’s son was the only young man in the village who didn’t have to go. He would live, while the others would surely die. The moral of this story provides a powerful lesson. The truth is, we don’t know what’s going to happen—we just think we do. Often we make a big deal out of something. We blow up scenarios in our minds about all the terrible things that are going to happen. Most of the time we are wrong. If we keep our cool and stay open to possibilities, we can be reasonably certain that, eventually, all will be well. Remember: maybe so, maybe not.

My aunt used to tell me that trust was like a plate. Once it was broken, it didn’t matter how much glue you used to put it back together; it would never be the same.

Once trust is broken, it is difficult and sometimes impossible to rebuild.

My aunt used to tell me that trust was like a plate. Once it was broken, it didn’t matter how much glue you used to put it back together; it would never be the same. So here I am holding onto the broken fragments of our love—our marriage—trying not to cut myself with them. Some

Trust. It’s like glass. Once shattered, it is virtually impossible to rebuild. People in the past had broken my trust, but they were long gone now, and there was nothing left to rebuild.

He’d found another apple as she’d gotten dressed - it was unbitten and blue, and he tossed it in time with his merry song. “You’re staring.” “I was just wondering why you always carry apples.” Jacks chuckled under his breath. “Trust me Little Fox, you’re better off not knowing.

Nina was in it with all of her heart now, as only those who have been hurt and learned to trust again truly can be. It was if once your heart has been broken you learn of the deepest reserves it carries.

... Broken people just need piecing back together. For so long I'd carried the pieces of me. Every now and then I'd drop one like a breadcrumb. So I could find my way home. Then Ashley came along and gathered the pieces and somewhere between 11,000 fee and sea level, the picture began taking shape. Dim at first, then clearer. Not yet clear. But these things take time. Maybe each of us was once a complete whole. A clear picture. A single piece. Then something happened to crack and shatter us. Leaving us disconnected, torn and splintered. Some of us lie in a hundred pieces. Some ten thousand. Some are edged with sharp contrast. Some dim shades of gray. Some find they are missing pieces. Some find they have too many. In any case, we are left shaking our heads. It can't be done. Then someone comes along who mends a tattered edge, or returns a lost piece. The process is tedious, painful, and there are no shortcuts. Anything that promises to be one is not. But somehow, as we walk from the crash site - away from he wreckage - whole sections start taking shape, something vague we see out of the corner of our eye. For a second, we stop shaking our heads. We wonder. Maybe...just maybe. It's risky for both of us. You must hope in an image you can't see, and I must trust you with me. That's the piecing.

Grief is love’s souvenir. It’s our proof that we once loved. Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world: Look! Love was once mine. I loved well. Here is my proof that I paid the price. So I’ll just show up and sit quietly and practice not being God with her. I’m so sorry, I’ll say. Thank you for trusting me enough to invite me close. I see your pain and it’s real. I’m so sorry. The Journey of the Warrior. This is it. The journey is learning that pain, like love, is simply something to surrender to. It’s a holy space we can enter with people only if we promise not to tidy up. So I will sit with my pain by letting my own heart break. I will love others in pain by volunteering to let my heart break with theirs. I’ll be helpless and broken and still—surrendered to my powerlessness. Mutual surrender, maybe that’s an act of love. Surrendering to this thing that’s bigger than we are: this love, this pain. The courage to surrender comes from knowing that the love and pain will almost kill us, but not quite.

You wrote to me. Do not deny it. I’ve read your words and they evoke My deep respect for your emotion, Your trusting soul… and sweet devotion. Your candour has a great appeal And stirs in me, I won’t conceal, Long dormant feelings, scarce remembered. But I’ve no wish to praise you now; Let me repay you with a vow As artless as the one you tendered; Hear my confession too, I plead, And judge me both by word and deed. 13 ’Had I in any way desired To bind with family ties my life; Or had a happy fate required That I turn father, take a wife; Had pictures of domestication For but one moment held temptation- Then, surely, none but you alone Would be the bride I’d make my own. I’ll say without wrought-up insistence That, finding my ideal in you, I would have asked you—yes, it’s true— To share my baneful, sad existence, In pledge of beauty and of good, And been as happy … as I could! 14 ’But I’m not made for exaltation: My soul’s a stranger to its call; Your virtues are a vain temptation, For I’m not worthy of them all. Believe me (conscience be your token): In wedlock we would both be broken. However much I loved you, dear, Once used to you … I’d cease, I fear; You’d start to weep, but all your crying Would fail to touch my heart at all, Your tears in fact would only gall. So judge yourself what we’d be buying, What roses Hymen means to send— Quite possibly for years on end! 15 ’In all this world what’s more perverted Than homes in which the wretched wife Bemoans her worthless mate, deserted— Alone both day and night through life; Or where the husband, knowing truly Her worth (yet cursing fate unduly) Is always angry, sullen, mute— A coldly jealous, selfish brute! Well, thus am I. And was it merely For this your ardent spirit pined When you, with so much strength of mind, Unsealed your heart to me so clearly? Can Fate indeed be so unkind? Is this the lot you’ve been assigned? 16 ’For dreams and youth there’s no returning; I cannot resurrect my soul. I love you with a tender yearning, But mine must be a brother’s role. So hear me through without vexation: Young maidens find quick consolation— From dream to dream a passage brief; Just so a sapling sheds its leaf To bud anew each vernal season. Thus heaven wills the world to turn. You’ll fall in love again; but learn … To exercise restraint and reason, For few will understand you so, And innocence can lead to woe.

trust once broken can never be repaired.

Once someone loses trust, that’s it, Gerald. It’s gone. It’s broken. You can’t repair it with explanations. You can’t wheedle trust back from someone.

as only those who have been hurt and learned to trust again truly can be. It is as if once your heart has been broken you learn of the deepest reserves it carries.

Once again I chose to love you Though trust is broken To get my lost heart...

I forced down my fear and my doubt, until I could once again trust that the broken pieces of my life would fall into place one day.

In case you forget what the Prince of Hearts has done and you’re tempted to trust him again.

And he’d been so ready to believe that maybe he could trust himself, that he could trust anyone, that he wasn’t broken. That maybe giving into feeling, just once, wouldn’t be so bad.

Trust is like glass. It takes time to heat and temper, to make it transparent for both parties to see through. But once it’s shattered, there are so many broken pieces on the floor that it’s impossible to put back together. A year may pass, and you’ll step into the kitchen barefoot for a glass of water and get a shard in your heel. And you’ll remember how it got there.

Nina was in it with all of her heart now, as only those who have been hurt and learned to trust again truly can be. It is as if once your heart has been broken you learn of the deepest reserves it carries.

Trust is tough. Once trust has been broken by multiple people on multiple occasions, believing in anyone or anything becomes increasingly difficult. Much of the skepticism of our world can be traced back to broken trust.

Do you think what he's doing is a good idea?' The vampire rubbed the jaw of his helm. 'I think we should get going.' 'I'll take that as a no.' Chaos sighed, one part impatient, one part beleaguered. 'I don't ever think time travel is a good idea. I've lived long enough to know that the past doesn't like to be changed. Jacks believes his plan will work because he only wants to alter one thing. But Jacks' reason gets clouded when he wants something badly enough. I believe the only way that time travel works is if the past hadn't had time to settle. The further back you go, the more Time fights against changes. And given the vindictive nature of Time, even if Jacks succeeds in changing the past, Time will no doubt make sure he loses something else in order to pay for it. So you are correct, I think he's making a mistake.' 'Then help me change his mind!' Chaos shook his head ruefully. 'You're not good for him, either, Princess. This is a better mistake for Jacks to make than you. If he were to stay for you, he would kill you, and your death would kill him. Trust me, Evangeline. If you care about Jacks, the best thing you can do for him is let him go.' 'That doesn't feel like the best thing,' she said. But a part of her couldn't deny that maybe Chaos was right.

I shake my head. He doesn't understand. The same face that once pulled me in still holds that magnetism, but it's closely netted with despise. This mix of love and hate, this blend of trust and hurt I have for him is so confusing even I can't understand it. How do you explain to someone you love that you are repulsed by the thought of wanting them? I can't even begin to comprehend it myself.

But now, everything I once thought I liked about myself has been turned into a symptom of something wrong with me. I’m told over and over by addiction experts not to trust anything I say, think, or feel. They tell me I need to build self-esteem from within. Yet in order to do that, I have to accept that I’m broken, shattered, stigmatized, diseased, and traumatized—and all that does is make me want to throw myself off a rooftop so I can start all over again.

Cassie, stop. I can't do this." He pulls back to meet my hurt gaze. "I know why you're doing this." I draw a breath, letting it out on a long exhale. "You don't trust me with your heart. You're afraid if you give it to me there's a chance it could be broken again." "It's been shattered once. In afraid next time it won't get broken. It'll be obliterated," he says quietly. I press a single kiss to his lips. "You're my Superman. You're not supposed to be afraid of anything." "Even Superman had weaknesses.

Cassie, stop. I can't do this.' He pulls back to meet my hurt gaze. 'I know why you're doing this.' I draw a breath, letting it out on a long exhale. 'You don't trust me with your heart. You're afraid if you give it to me there's a chance it could be broken, again.' 'It's been shattered once. I'm afraid next time it won't get broken. It'll be obliterated,' he says quietly. I press a single kiss to his lip. 'You're my Superman. You're not supposed to be afraid of anything.' 'Even Superman had weaknesses.

I used to be like that once. I never gave anybody a second chance. It’s a very sad way to live your life.” “Do you believe the dragons should provide patternform technology to humans?” “Yes, I do. Denise is convinced that because we didn’t create it for ourselves we won’t be able to handle it properly, that it will be constantly misused. To me it’s completely irrelevant that we didn’t work out every little detail for ourselves.” “Why?” “Other than pride? We know the scientific principles behind technology. If we don’t understand this particular theory, I trust in us to learn it soon enough. There’s very little we can’t grasp once it’s fully explained and broken down into its basic equations. But that’s just the clinical analysis. From a moral point of view, consider this: when the Americans first sent a man to the Moon, there were people living in Africa and South America and Asia who had never seen a lightbulb, or known of electricity or antibiotics. There were even Americans who didn’t have running water to their houses, or an indoor toilet. Does that mean they shouldn’t have been given access to electricity or modern medicine, because they personally didn’t invent it? It might not have been their local community’s knowledge, but it was human knowledge. We don’t have a clue how to build the nullvoid drive that the Ring Empire’s Outbounds employed in their intergalactic ships, but the knowledge is there, developed by sentient entities. Why shouldn’t we have access to that? Because it’s a shortcut? Because we don’t have to spend centuries of time developing it for ourselves? In what way will using ideas other than our own demean and diminish us? All knowledge should be cherished, not denied.” “I believe you would make an excellent dragon, Lawrence.” A

I don’t trust you.” He stepped back, wounded. “Has your judgment become so compromised? If you truly do not believe the truth in my words, then you have no place here.” We stared at one another, fury swelling between us. The silence expanded, solidifying our words like manacles. “Once, I thought you loved me,” I said in a broken voice. “I refuse to live in your shadow for the rest of eternity.” His eyes widened, obsidian eyes searching and disbelieving. “Then leave!” he said, gesturing to the door angrily. So I did. I stepped into the reincarnation pool, letting the waters tease my life apart, inflicting upon myself the same curse that had forced me to undergo the agni pariksha. In the distance, Amar’s voice roared for me. Pleading. But it was too little. And far too late.

Ocean waves remind me of our laughter our first night out together, the first date beside the shore of the boulevard that was called to be the place of broken dreams. While some hearts are breaking, we tried to mend ours hoping we could make memories and we could prove that this place isn't always for broken dreams. Hoping that every step we took would never end that the smiles we shared will help us mend. It's never easy to trust again but I tried to gain some strength to try the luck in love once more. But you failed. It was always my love that stays. You failed the moment you choose to let go. You failed to prove that some hearts stay even if others don't. I was the only one holding, but not your heart this time. I kept our memories in me while I watched you lose your grasp of ours. It's never easy.

Mom would take me to church and say, Can you feel it, baby girl? Isn't it glorious? I tried to feel it. I did, I swear. I reached for it, squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could and begged for it. I pretended I was stretching my hands out into the darkness behind my eyelids, fingers splayed wide, trying to find even the barest touch of something out there in the abyss. To feel the warmth Mom always assured me was waiting once I accepted God into my heart. There was nothing. Always nothing. Maybe that's how it's supposed to be. Maybe you're not supposed to feel that touch-maybe it's always been a metaphor. God is an absent parent who demands loyalty despite never coming around, and I just have to keep throwing my prayers into nothing and trust He gets them. Or maybe I am just too broken to feel Him in the first place.

The smell of the sea swept over the wall and in through the empty window-hole, wide and wild with a million intoxicating secrets. I don’t trust that smell. It hooks us somewhere deeper than reason or civilization, in the fragments of our cells that rocked in oceans before we had minds, and it pulls till we follow mindlessly as rutting animals. When I was a teenager, that smell used to set me boiling, spark my muscles like electricity, bounce me off the walls of the caravan till my parents sprang me free to obey the call, bounding after whatever tantalizing once-in-a-lifetimes it promised. Now I know better. That smell is bad medicine. It lures us to leap off high cliffs, fling ourselves on towering waves, leave behind everyone we love and face into thousands of miles of open water for the sake of what might be on the far shore.

My heart, which I thought had been dead, stopped. Of course. I had been betrayed. My ex boyfriend had reneged on his promise to love me, and this odious event had a name: betrayal. Somehow, knowing this calmed me down. And I began to contemplate betrayal. My conclusion? It is the most difficult of all woundings. Betrayal comes in many forms. It's not just about being cheated on or left for another. It's about any promise, overt or implied, that has been broken without your participation in the decision, or even knowing that a decision was on the table. It's about believing something that you later find out is untrue. It's no wonder that the first response to betrayal is likely to be denial. It's an enormous shock to find out that a solid reality is not so solid after all. It can feel like the most deviant form of attack. When betrayal is at the root of your pain, something horrible is unleashed. Different and perhaps more horrible than the pain of disappointment, grief, or anger. With other causes of suffering, you can at least pretend you have some measure of control. You can blame the other person for disappointing you, you can read books that outline and predict the course of grief, and when you're angry you can always fall back on self-righteousness. But when you're betrayed, you have been blindsided and your vulnerability is confirmed. You lose a misplaced innocence that you really can never regain. Your ability to trust is basically obliterated. And not just your trust in your own perceptions and your trust in the person you loved. Once you lose trust in one person, your trust in all beings is undermined, making the future seem like a giant landmine.

An estate manager doesn't usually have to work alongside the tenants, does he?" she managed to ask. "He does if he wants to talk to them. These men and their wives don't have time to set aside their labors for a leisurely cup of tea at midmorning. But they're willing to have a conversation while I help repair a broken fence or take part in brickmaking. It's easier for them to trust a man with a bit of sweat on his brow and calluses on his hands. Work is a kind of language- we understand each other better afterward." Phoebe listened carefully, perceiving that not only did he respect the estate tenants, he sincerely liked them. He was so very different from what she'd expected. No matter what he had once been, the cruel and unhappy boy seemed to have made himself into someone capable of empathy and understanding. Not a brute. Not a bad man at all. Henry, she thought ruefully, our enemy is turning out to be awfully difficult to hate.

I don't give him a chance to argue, I just kiss him. Gently at first, but then I'm no longer able to hold back. He opens, granting me access to explore and tease his tongue with mine. Soon, he's giving as much as he takes, cupping my ass in his hands and lifting me until I straddle his waist. My lips begin to travel as I slowly rock my pelvis back and forth, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his neck, nipping and suckling from one side to the other. "Cassie, stop. I can't do this." He pulls back to meet my hurt gaze. "I know why you're doing this." I draw a breath, letting it out on a long exhale. "You don't trust me with your heart. You're afraid if you give it to me there's a chance it could be broken again." "It's been shattered once. I'm afraid next time it won't get broken. It'll be obliterated," he says quietly. I press a single kiss to his lips. "You're my Superman. You're not supposed to be afraid of anything." "Even Superman had weaknesses.

A quest of old must be taken, to seek the page now forsaken. If these words don’t find thee well, take the tunnel where Seelie dwell. By his hand time can be taken, her journey back must now awaken. But for this quest she walks alone, the Tower seeks the frozen throne. To play with rules that can’t be broken, for only one can claim the spoken. Cross the dark between the lines, roll the dice to read the signs. Seek the one who paid the price, change the name, she won’t play nice. But first a soul to seek in dire need, relieve the hole then take his lead. The road you walk is bleak and grim, when in doubt head back to him. But before thee go a ruse to make, by heir and Aether a perfect fake. Will of magic, strength in deed, to replace in kind for which you need. Once thee find the page in question, the Tower makes the last impression. So take her bag that holds it all, trust thy heart for what to haul. Upon thy arm my word shall come, to find the page crumb by crumb.

Covenant Woman Covenant woman got a contract with the Lord Way up yonder, great will be her reward Covenant woman, shining like a morning star I know I can trust you to stay where you are And I just got to tell you I do intend To stay closer than any friend I just got to thank you Once again For making your prayers known Unto heaven for me And to you, always, so grateful I will forever be I’ve been broken, shattered like an empty cup I’m just waiting on the Lord to rebuild and fill me up And I know He will do it ’cause He’s faithful and He’s true He must have loved me so much to send me someone as fine as you And I just got to tell you I do intend To stay closer than any friend I just got to thank you Once again For making your prayers known Unto heaven for me And to you, always, so grateful I will forever be Covenant woman, intimate little girl Who knows those most secret things of me that are hidden from the world You know we are strangers in a land we’re passing through I’ll always be right by your side, I’ve got a covenant too And I just got to tell you I do intend To stay closer than any friend I just got to thank you Once again For making your prayers known Unto heaven for me And to you, always, so grateful I will forever be

Once there was a boy. When the boy was 6 years old, his father gave him a falcon to train. Falcons are raptors - killing birds, his father told him, the Shadowhunters of the sky. The falcon didn't like the boy, and he didn't like it, either. Its sharp beak made him nervous, and its bright eyes always seemed to be watching him. It would slash at him with his beak and talons when he came near: For weeks his wrists and hands were always bleeding. He didn't know it, but his father had selected a falcon that had lived in the wild for over a year, and thus was nearly impossible to train. But the boy tried, because his father had told him to make the falcon obedient, and he wanted to please his father. He stayed with the falcon constantly, keeping it awake by talking to it and even playing music to it, because a tired bird was ment to be easier to tame. He leard the equipment: the jesses, the hood, the brail, the leash that bound the bird to his wrist. He was ment to keep the bird blind, but he couldn't bring himself to do it - instead he tryed to sit where the bird could see him as he touched and stroked its wings, willing it to trust him. He fed it from his hand, and at first it would not eat. Later it ate so savagely that the beak cut his palm. But the boy was glad, because it was progress, and because he wanted the bird to know him, even if it had to consume his blood to make that happen. He began to see that the falcon was beautiful, that its slim wings were built for the speed of flight, that it was strong and swift, fierce and gentle. When it dived to the ground, it moved like light. When it learned to circle and land on his wrist, he nearly shouted with delight. Sometimes the bird would hop to his sholder and but its beak in his hair. He knew his falcon loved him, and when he was certain that it was not just tamed but perfectly tamed, he went to his father and showed him what he had done, expecting him to be proud. Instead his father took the bird, now tame and trusting, in his hands, and broke its neck. 'I told you to make him obedient,' his father said, and dropped the falcon's lifeless body to the ground. "Instead, you taught it to love you. Falcons are not ment to be loving pets: They are fierce and wild, savage and cruel. This bird was not tamed; it was broken.' Later, when his father left him, the boy cried over his pet, until his father sent a servant to take the body of the bird away and bury it. The boy never cried again, and he never forgot what he'd learned: That to love is to destroy, and to be loved is to be the one destroyed.

Mr. President, Dr. Biden, Madam Vice President, Mr. Emhoff, Americans and the world, when day comes we ask ourselves where can we find light in this never-ending shade? The loss we carry asea we must wade. We’ve braved the belly of the beast. We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace. In the norms and notions of what just is isn’t always justice. And yet, the dawn is ours before we knew it. Somehow we do it. Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed a nation that isn’t broken, but simply unfinished. We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president only to find herself reciting for one. And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn’t mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect. We are striving to forge our union with purpose. To compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man. And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us, but what stands before us. We close the divide because we know to put our future first, we must first put our differences aside. We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another. We seek harm to none and harmony for all. Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true. That even as we grieved, we grew. That even as we hurt, we hoped. That even as we tired, we tried that will forever be tied together victorious. Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division. Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one shall make them afraid. If we’re to live up to her own time, then victory won’t lie in the blade, but in all the bridges we’ve made. That is the promise to glade, the hill we climb if only we dare. It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit. It’s the past we step into and how we repair it. We’ve seen a forest that would shatter our nation rather than share it. Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy. This effort very nearly succeeded. But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated. In this truth, in this faith we trust for while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us. This is the era of just redemption. We feared it at its inception. We did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour, but within it, we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves so while once we asked, how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe? Now we assert, how could catastrophe possibly prevail over us? We will not march back to what was, but move to what shall be a country that is bruised, but whole, benevolent, but bold, fierce, and free. We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation. Our blunders become their burdens. But one thing is certain, if we merge mercy with might and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children’s birthright. So let us leave behind a country better than one we were left with. Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one. We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the West. We will rise from the wind-swept Northeast where our forefathers first realized revolution. We will rise from the Lake Rim cities of the Midwestern states. We will rise from the sun-baked South. We will rebuild, reconcile and recover in every known nook of our nation, in every corner called our country our people diverse and beautiful will emerge battered and beautiful. When day comes, we step out of the shade aflame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it. For there is always light. If only we’re brave enough.

For those who worked at the reactor or in close proximity to it, what was most seriously affected – and this is very similar to the problems of those who work with missiles – was the genito-urinary system. Their masculinity. But Slavs just do not talk about these things. It’s unacceptable. I once accompanied an English journalist who had prepared some interesting questions on this very topic. He wanted to investigate the human dimension of the problem. When it’s all over, what happens to the human being when he goes back home, to his everyday life, to his sex life? He could find no one prepared to talk openly about it. For instance, he asked to meet the helicopter crews, to talk man-to-man. They duly came, some already retired at thirty-five or forty. One was brought along who had a broken leg caused by senile osteoporosis, because exposure to radiation causes bones to become brittle. The Englishman asked them how they were getting on in their families, with their young wives? The helicopter crews fell silent. They had come to talk about how they had flown five sorties a day, and here someone was asking them about their wives? About … He decided to try talking to them individually, in private. They all replied that their health was fine, the state valued them, and they had loving families. Not one of them would speak frankly. They left, and I could see he was distraught. ‘Now you see,’ he said to me, ‘why nobody trusts you. You deceive even yourselves.

I am the Dharma Raja for a reason. I would not have my own impartiality questioned by favoring you. Surely, you knew this.” “What would you have done if I failed?” “You couldn’t fail,” said Amar. “That’s why I did not worry. You were meant to be the queen of these lands. We were meant to rule together. For all of eternity.” “I would rather die than rule by the side of a coward.” Shadows curled away from Amar’s body. “Coward?” he hissed. “Cowardice is running from the difficult choices made by the ones that love you most. If I have been a coward, so have you, jaani. But we may start anew. Let us not speak of this time any longer.” He tried, once more, to tilt my face into a kiss, but I moved away. “I saw you spread the rumors yourself in the Otherworld. I watched you take solace in another’s arms. And if surviving the agni pariksha means spending eternity with you, then I would rather live life as a mortal.” The room became damp and sticky with darkness. “What lies you hurl at me,” he murmured. “I don’t trust you.” He stepped back, wounded. “Has your judgment become so compromised? If you truly do not believe the truth in my words, then you have no place here.” We stared at one another, fury swelling between us. The silence expanded, solidifying our words like manacles. “Once, I thought you loved me,” I said in a broken voice. “I refuse to live in your shadow for the rest of eternity.” His eyes widened, obsidian eyes searching and disbelieving. “Then leave!” he said, gesturing to the door angrily.

But it’s not about knowing. It is simply about going forward. The cureds want to know; we have chosen faith instead. I asked Grace to trust me. We will have to trust too—that the world won’t end, that tomorrow will come, and that truth will come too. An old line, a forbidden line from a text Raven once showed me, comes back to me now. He who jumps may fall, but he may also fly. It’s time to jump. “Let’s go,” I say to Grace, and let her lead me into the surge of people, keeping a tight hold on her hand the whole time. We push into the shouting, joyful throng, and fight our way toward the wall. Grace scrabbles up a pile of broken-down wood and shards of shattered concrete, and I follow clumsily until I am balancing next to her. She is shouting—louder than I have ever heard her, a babble-language of joy and freedom—and I find that I join in with her as together we begin to tear at chunks of concrete with our fingernails, watching the border dissolve, watching a new world emerge beyond it. Take down the walls. That is, after all, the whole point. You do not know what will happen if you take down the walls; you cannot see through to the other side, don’t know whether it will bring freedom or ruin, resolution or chaos. It might be paradise, or destruction. Take down the walls. Otherwise you must live closely, in fear, building barricades against the unknown, saying prayers against the darkness, speaking verse of terror and tightness. Otherwise you may never know hell, but you will not find heaven, either. You will not know fresh air and flying. All of you, wherever you are: in your spiny cities or your one-bump towns. Find it, the hard stuff, the links of metal and chink, the fragments of stone filling your stomach. And pull, and pull, and pull. I will make a pact with you: I will do it if you will do it, always and forever. Take down the walls.

Dear me, I am happy the way you have turned out. I am happy the way you have closed in all the broken parts of your self and made them look like waves cutting across the edges of a shore that seems so distant yet alive. I am happy the way you screamed at every gust and almost fell back with choked tears and yet walked on while your mind told you otherwise. I am happy the way you caressed the numb tears of your heart and poured it out unashamedly for they made you so much more than just a piece of Earth. I am happy the way you believed in Love even when your love left you empty with scars and wounds that are yet unhealed. I am happy the way you left your wounds untouched for you knew the value of Life and the reason to walk on this pit of fire. I am happy the way you learnt to sprinkle rays from your ashes and yet remain unabsorbed in the chained hollows of your once broken soul. I am happy the way you tried to listen to your heart's cry for that led you to a paradise of a world lulled by His Mercy and Love. I am happy the way you chose to rise from your corpse and know that Life means love and light not only for your self but for everyone around. I am happy that you finally realized that your life is complete within itself and you are perfect beyond all your imperfections. I am happy that you found your calling in the horizon of smiles that you leave behind each time you cross path with a fellow Traveller of this voyage called Life. I am happy that in your solitude you found the company of your best friend that lies within. I am happy that even in the night you shine bright with the sun of your soul that knows no bound and trusts no fear. I am happy that you keep trying and pushing off all that puts you behind and never cease to wonder at the marvel of Life. I am happy that you never stopped to gaze at what you lost but stayed amazed at what you gained. I am happy that you keep stumbling through Life, waiting for the light that runs through an endless tunnel of hope, counting through the ever falling leaf of a grey rose that murmurs through an unending story of Hope and Faith. I am happy that you are all that you have become. And I am happy the way you have turned out. - A flicker, that lies inside of you.

children from pain and loss and tragedy and illness. You cannot be sure that you will always be married, let alone happily married. You cannot be sure you will always be employed, or healthy, or relatively sane. All you can do is face the world with quiet grace and hope you make a sliver of difference. Humility does not mean self-abnegation, lassitude, detachment; it’s more like a calm recognition that you must trust in that which does not make sense, that which is unreasonable, illogical, silly, ridiculous, crazy by the measure of most of our culture; you must trust that you being a very good you matters somehow. That trying to be an honest and tender parent will echo for centuries through your tribe. That doing your chosen work with creativity and diligence will shiver people far beyond your ken. That being an attentive and generous friend and citizen will somehow matter in the social fabric, save a thread or two from unraveling. And you must do all of this with the sure and certain knowledge that you will never get proper credit for it, at all, one bit, and in fact the vast majority of the things you do right will go utterly unremarked; except, perhaps, in ways we will never know or understand, by the Arab Jew who once shouted about his cloak, and may have been somehow also the One who invented and infuses this universe and probably a million others—not to put a hard number on it or anything. Humility, the final frontier, as my late brother Kevin used to say. When we are young we build a self, a persona, a story in which to reside, or several selves in succession, or several at once, sometimes; when we are older we take on other roles and personas, other masks and duties; and you and I both know men and women who become trapped in the selves they worked so hard to build, so desperately imprisoned that sometimes they smash their lives simply to escape who they no longer wish to be; but finally, I think, if we are lucky, if we read the book of pain and loss with humility, we realize that we are all broken and small and brief, that none among us is actually rich or famous or more beautiful than another; and then, perhaps, we begin to understand something deep and true finally about humility. This is what I know: that the small is huge, that the tiny is vast, that pain is part and parcel of the gift of joy, and that there is love, and then there is everything else. You either walk toward love or away from it with every breath you draw. Humility is the road to love. Humility, maybe, is love. That could be. I wouldn’t know; I am a muddle and a conundrum, shuffling slowly along the road, gaping in wonder, trying to just see and say what is, trying to leave shreds and shards of ego along the road like wisps of litter and chaff.

We have continued to frame our politics in such a self-defeating terms simply because these are the only ones that make sense to us. Capitalism, according to common understanding, means free markets, and socialism means state central planning. If you want more socialism, you have to add more state, and if you want more capitalism, you need to extend markets. Yet the defining feature of capitalism is not the presence or absence of 'free markets', any more than the defining feature of socialism is the centralized planning of the economy. Markets existed long before the emergence of capitalism, and state planning existed long before the emergence of socialism. Aside from the fact that it's wrong and it doesn't work, there's an even more fundamental reason to avoid pitching leftist politics as one of the state versus market: it's disempowering. There is a big difference between approaching people with an offer of protection and approaching them with an offer of empowerment. The former encourages people to alienate their sense of political agency to a group of unaccountable representatives and bureaucrats who, at best, pay attention to their needs only once every four years. When these electoral promises are broken, people fall into despair and disillusionment, often giving up on politics altogether because 'politicians are all the same.' But when we frame our political project in terms of collective empowerment, we show that politics can't be reduced to elections -it's something we all do every day. Organizing with your colleagues to demand higher wages is politics, protesting climate breakdown in politics, even fighting alongside your neighbors to keep your local library open is politics. Socialism should not be based on asking people to trust politicians -it should be based on asking people to trust each other. The significance of the Lucas Plan is that it showed in very concrete terms exactly how people could work together to build a better world. People do not need to surrender their power to state institutions that can control and protect them. Nor do they need to surrender control to a market that is dominated by the powerful. Instead, we can work together to create the kind of world we want to live in. In place of domination, we can build society based on cocreation. In this chapter, we'll look at then real-world examples of attempts to do just this. Such a perspective might sound naive to those who are convinced that humans are naturally competitive beasts who need to be tamed by authoritarian social institutions. Liberal philosophy stretching all the way back to Hobbes has been grounded on the premise that without an all-powerful sovereign to control their competitive instincts, people would tear each other apart. There's just one problem with this argument: it's demonstrably untrue.

Dear Frodo, Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better leave Bag End soon, and get out of the Shire before the end of July at latest. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find that you are gone. Leave a message for me here, if you pass through Bree. You can trust the landlord (Butterbur). You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Strider. He knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you. Yours in haste GANDALF. PS. Do NOT use It again, not for any reason whatever! Do not travel by night! PPS. Make sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn. All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king. PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this promptly. A worthy man, but his memory is like a lumber-room: thing wanted always buried. If he forgets, I shall roast him. Fare Well!

I AM” for me is undoubtedly the most potent supernatural verb, for what I say about myself manifests in my reality. Healing is a journey that requires me to elevate and detach from the past. A journey that requires me to live in the now. A journey that requires me to believe in myself. A journey that requires total surrender to and trust in the process. A journey that requires me to become in alignment with the creator. The power that is higher than myself to lead my path.

trusting Jacks or running from him?

Unfortunately, building a track record for trust takes time—certainly a lot more time than it takes to break trust. And during that trust-building period, things are likely to be pretty shitty. So both people in the relationship must be conscious of the struggle they’re choosing to undertake. I use the example of cheating in a romantic relationship, but this process applies to a breach in any relationship. When trust is destroyed, it can be rebuilt only if the following two steps happen: 1) the trust-breaker admits the true values that caused the breach and owns up to them, and 2) the trust-breaker builds a solid track record of improved behavior over time. Without the first step, there should be no attempt at reconciliation in the first place. Trust is like a china plate. If you break it once, with some care and attention you can put it back together again. But if you break it again, it splits into even more pieces and it takes far longer to piece together again. If you break it more and more times, eventually it shatters to the point where it’s impossible to restore. There are too many broken pieces, and too much dust.

When you fall in every way- to me, it’s not about love… I have a hard time believing in something that I don’t find too real for me or can trust… like papa said- I should. Times have changed. To me, it’s trying to keep it, after the fact. That's the color of Jenny, her skin is never that natural looking. What was the look on her face all about? Maddie begins giggling hysterically until she doubles over and has to cover her mouth with both hands. I don’t know what she could find funny. Then I see Ray and Justen are love drinks doing it on the pole table, with my little sis just eyeing it all up. She knows- Ray is my guy, and Justen is her new bestie. ‘God save me if you can hear me!’ I am ready to rip someone’s head off and the skin that goes with it. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she- my sis says. ‘I can’t believe it.’ She looks back at me- like I know your heart has broken. Justen looked at her and said- ‘OH MY GOD’ get her out of here. She was her to dance not see this. I grab her by the back of her short dress and take her into the next room and said. ‘It’s okay, everything is going to be fine no damn it go home!’ She said- ‘Know it’s not… Kar-ley I did a No-no!’ (She still baby talks.) You’re never going to forgive me. I said- ‘I know you had sex, for the first time tonight.’ She said- ‘Yes, but…’ I said- ‘But… what… go on.’ She starts subbing. She said- ‘It was Ray that did it to me, up in the master bedroom. He said- ‘That you would think it would be okay because I knew him.’ ‘So, I believed him.’ She added- During sex I bleed a lot out of there (and the point) and it hurt so much Karly, I cried the whole time. But I felt close to him… How was it I ask? And then she dropped the shocker of a lifetime. She said- ‘I think I am in love with your boyfriend, yet Justen just ripped him away. She asks me the most complex question ever coming from the mind of a ten-year-old. ‘So, which of us girls do you think he loves the most? Is it me, you or her?’ I said- ‘I don’t know… she looks puzzled by that… just like I could not believe that I didn’t say- me.’ Kellie said- I feel a little sore but other than that I am a hundred percent perfectly fine emotion Madilyn and physically, up till this point at least.’ I whispered in her ear- ‘Aww sis, boys will say anything to get you to do what they want. She has her head on my chest. No, I am not mad at you. I’ll take care of this, ‘I am not mad’- I said once more. On the other hand, inside I was pissed, she had the night that I have been planning for a long time.

Life will break you. Life will make you. As we walk along this tide, sometimes our hearts get too entangled in the pit fire of wants, we don't even know what we seek in the mirage of our apparent want. We dress up in smiles everyday and every hour but never do we hold on to our laughters. Exceptions are there, of course. But I have realised that most of us often fall into this wound's kiss and fly off to our cocoon of solitude, to stay more safe in the comfort of not getting hurt. But is it really safe, to not feel? Is not getting hurt a part of feeling or experiencing life too? Doesn't our own wall of Solitude break us too with a yearning of our heart that wants to connect, to love, to grow? You have to love. You have to feel. That's the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart, after all you risked your soul to come onto this voyage in this spectrum of Unknown. You are here to be swallowed up, to save yourself with the poison of Love. And when you find yourself broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, then burn and be born of its ashes! And once in a while sit by an apple tree and as you watch the apples falling in heaps, remember how many of them are wasting their sweetness, just like that. Garner that Life, where you can tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could.

It takes a special kind of person to love someone who is broken. Because it isn’t simply loving them. It’s teaching them everything they’ve come to believe and being the exception. It’s teaching them they can trust someone other than themselves. In return, they’ll doubt you. They’ll question you and second-guess everything. They’ll want more than anything to run the other way. Don’t let them. Because once they trust you, they’ll love you harder than you thought anyone could. They will redefine what you thought love even meant. And you’ll never be the same again.

Trust, once broken, is only ever glued back together. It is never made whole.

That was the one thing she’d never tolerate in a relationship—cheating. It wasn’t about the physical act. It was about the trust. Once broken, it was hard, if not impossible, to mend.

Trust is such a fragile thing, isn’t it? Once it’s broken, there is no superglue in the world that can put it back together again. Perhaps with time I would come to trust my neo-ex-sister. Not yet.

Trust is like a vase; once it’s broken, you can fix it, but the vase will never be the same again.

She wonders if trust, once lost, can ever truly be found again, and if she’s being a fool (two-one-thousand). She decides she doesn’t care, that maybe trust is neither lost nor found, broken nor mended, but merely given. Decided, despite the risk (three-one-thousand).

He hated to do it, and he hated that things had come to this, that Evangeline’s lack of trust in him had forced him to take such drastic action. But he was doing the right thing. He was protecting his wife from everyone, including herself.

I was just wondering why you always carry apples.” Jacks chuckled under his breath. “Trust me, Little Fox, you’re better off not knowing.

The scars of broken trust often remind me to be cautious with whom to give my trust. At least from my mother's words, I learned this caveat: 'trust no one', even the devil was once an angel!

Someone's Double Shot of Whiskey [Verse] When the sun sets low on a Tennessee sky, And the world feels heavy, makes you wanna cry, You walk down that dirt road, kicking up dust, Thinking 'bout the past and who to trust. [Verse 2] The porch light's flickering, but no one's home, You're feeling like a stray dog, lost and alone, Nothing but the whispers of the evening breeze, And the sound of your boots on the fallen leaves. [Chorus] You may not be everyone's cup of tea, But believe me, honey, you're a sight to see. To someone out there, you're more than a dream, You're their double shot of whiskey, straight from the stream. [Verse 3] The radio plays those old-time songs, Reminding you of how far you've come along, Life ain't always bright, but it's not so bad, When you remember the good times you once had. [Verse 4] Folks might not understand your country ways, But there's someone out there prayin' for brighter days, For every broken heart and tear you cry, There's a love out there that won't pass you by. [Chorus] You may not be everyone's cup of tea, But believe me, honey, you're a sight to see. To someone out there, you're more than a dream, You're their double shot of whiskey, straight from the stream.

She stood now, stiffly, wincing slightly, arching her back the way cats do. “Sorry,” she said. “My back doesn’t allow me to sit for long periods anymore. From a lifetime of doing too much sitting. The most essential hour of my day is my noon yoga at the Equinox over on Dartmouth. It’s like I have a lunch date every day with my back.” “A friend of mine once said that a bad back is like having a second job,” I said.

I iced my knee while watching Maria Stephanos read the news on Channel 5, telling myself as always that Maria was speaking directly to me and, further, was ready to leave her family for me if Susan ever dumped me. I had mentioned having these thoughts about Maria to Susan once and she said, “You just keep thinkin’, Butch. That’s what you’re good at.

Once the bonds of trust were broken in a relationship it would never be the same.

Once a Leo is committed to a relationship, you are faithful. Should your heart or trust be broken you never forgive or forget. Leos can cut ties, but

Once a person falls in the fields of love, all the rules are already broken; the lover becomes open and exalted in ways that transcend the local issues as well as the commonly held beliefs. Love, like genuine devotion, will find a way. Where duty becomes replaced with love, a greater and deeper faith will blossom forth. For the deepest meaning of “belief” refers to being loyal to what the heart already loves. As people used to say, “What the heart loves is the cure.” The cure for healing the wounds and conflicts between faiths and systems of belief involves awakening to the unique ways that each heart carries devotion and love. When followed far enough, simple belief can transform into wisdom; raw passions can become a greater compassion that trusts what resides in one’s heart and even in the hearts of others. Until the heart opens and the eyes begin to see there is always the danger of blindness and narrowness and the tendency to hold onto narrow ways of being.

Robert.” It was a sigh and a call at the same time. She ignored the lump in her throat and called again. In an instant, her view was obscured. “Lydia!” They were eye-to-eye, and neither said anything for a moment or two. Finally, after an audible gulp, Robert spoke in a whisper. “Are you all right?” “I’ve had better days,” she said in seriousness, and then realized the absurdity of her words and chuckled. “I’m covered in dirt, cuts, and bruises and sporting a lovely goose egg above my ear. One of my favorite gowns is nothing but a ruin, but other than that, I am fine. And now that you are here, I am better.” “Thank the Lord. I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear you say so. I have been imagining all sorts … well, let’s talk about this later.” “Yes, when we don’t have to whisper through a wall.” “Indeed.” “So what is the plan?” “Hmm … well, plans are a little lacking at this moment. I had expected to rush in and simply grab you, but there are three guards by the door. I procured a thick stick, but three to one … well, not good odds. My second idea was to loosen some of these boards and pull you out. I have also acquired a horse. So once out, we can sneak or run, whichever is the most prudent.” “Yes, but the getting-out part seems to be the problem. For, if I am not mistaken, none of the boards on this side of the barn are loose, and the other sides are too close to the villains.” “There does seem to be a decided lack of cooperation on the part of the building. I have, however, noticed something that might offer another possibility. It would require a great deal of trust on your part.” “Oh?” Lydia was almost certain she was not going to like this new possibility. “Yes. There is a hay door above me. Is there a loft inside?” “Are you thinking that I should climb a rickety ladder to the loft and then try to escape through the hay door?” “Just a thought.” “How would I get down?” “That would be the trust part.” “Ahh. I would jump, and you would catch me.” Lydia visualized her descent, skirts every which way, and a very hard landing that might produce a broken body part. “Yes. Not a brilliant plan. Do you have another?” Robert sounded hopeful. “Not really. But might I suggest a variation to yours?” “By all means.” “I will return to my cell and get the rope that the thugs used to tie me up.” “They tied you up?” “Yes. But don’t let it bother you.…” “No?” “No. Because if they hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have a rope to lower myself from the hay door. I can use the one they used on my feet; it’s thick and long.” “I like that so much better than watching you fling yourself from a high perch.” “Me too. It might take a few minutes as I must return to my original cell—I escaped, you know.” “I didn’t. That is quite impressive.” “Thank you. Anyway, I must return to my cell for the rope, climb the ladder, cross the loft to the door … et cetera, et cetera. All in silence, of course.” “Of course.” “It might take as much as twenty minutes.” “I promise to wait. Won’t wander off … pick flowers or party with the thugs.” “Good to know.” “Just warn me before you jump.” “Oh, yes. I will most certainly let you know.” With a deep sigh, Lydia headed back to her cell, slowly and quietly.

Integrity, once tarnished, or broken, is hard to recover.

Trust is like a mirror; once its broken, you can glue it back together, but you can still see the cracks in that motherfucker's reflection.        

Have you ever considered the humble beginnings of sea glass? All of it starts as glass that has been thrown away, discarded, and broken. Pieces of a former whole no longer serve their intended purpose, so they are cast away—then tossed about, taking some hard knocks, and finally emerging smooth, refined, beautiful. Likewise, there are those days, even seasons, when we feel fragmented and useless. . . . Parts of a former whole, we find ourselves being tossed about, taking hard knocks, unsure of our direction or purpose. The Father knows, and sometimes orchestrates, our seasons of refinement—it is part of a greater plan, His plan, which serves His purposes. Even when we’re on the other side of that season, we may still not understand fully the why behind it, but we can be sure we have a Father who loves us, pursues us, and—once His hand is upon us—does not let go. Trust that during these seasons, we are being refined and transformed into something useful. And ultimately, beautiful. MIRIAM DRENNAN Devotions for the Beach

trust is a fragile thing, like a fine piece of rare china on display in an antiques shop. Once it’s broken, the pieces never quite fit—no matter how carefully you try to glue them together.

God-Centered Joy We’ve already covered a lot of ground in this book. We’ve talked about choosing the broken road that leads to God and greater strength. We’ve also explored some forks in the trail that offer more choices. When we choose well, the paths of surrender, relationship, acceptance, and trust lead us even closer to Him and His power. Now we’re standing in front of another fork. This time, we’re seeking a path that will deliver us to something we’re all looking for: joy. What’s interesting, however, is that the trail to joy is unmarked, full of rocks and overgrown weeds, and rarely traveled. As a result, whenever we arrive at this fork, we almost always choose the wrong path—and end up wondering why we’re lost. To put it in plain terms, we often think possessions and things will make us happy. Food. Sex. Money. A new dress, couch, car, home, job, or spouse. We think that if we rearrange the circumstances, everything will get better. Eventually, some of us figure out, at least some of the time, that this isn’t how it works. The external possessions and things are enticing and may offer temporary pleasure, but ultimately, they don’t make a difference. They are the wrong path. Joy springs from an internal choice—a decision of the heart about the heart. It has nothing to do with circumstances and everything to do with God and where we are going with Him. It also—and this is the part that trips us up—has little to do with what we, in all our “wisdom,” want and believe we need. The path that leads to joy is based entirely on what God desires for us. Once we begin to walk in the direction He’s pointing out to us, we discover true delight. Said another way, joy results when we focus more on God and less—as I failed to do that day in Jakarta—on ourselves.

What enables us to put fantasy behind us and grow to maturity is the capacity to doubt. When a child of six or seven begins to doubt Saint Nick’s ability to get down the chimney or to be in so many different places at once, then he or she begins to doubt the objective reality of this mysterious person. The same capacity to doubt emerges during the often turbulent period of adolescence. We first doubt and then challenge the validity of our parent’s authority. We come to recognise that these once authoritative and almost divine figures are quite human and fallible after all. The perplexing process of alternating between doubt and trust, rebellion and obedience, is essential for our growth to mature adulthood. Persons of fifty who still rely on their parents for guidance in everyday matters are clearly suffering from stunted growth. And so it is with the evolution of culturally defined opinions. Without the capacity to doubt, we cannot grow from childish beliefs to the maturity of faith. Doubt is not the enemy of faith, but of false beliefs. Indeed, our entire catalogue of assumptions and beliefs should be continually subjected to critical examination, and those found to be false or inadequate should be replaced by those we find convincing within our cultural context. Yet expressing or even entertaining doubt sometimes takes so much courage that we may say it takes real faith to doubt. Thirty years ago an anonymous well-wisher sent me through the post a little book entitled The Faith to Doubt by the American scholar Homes Hartshorne. I found it an exciting text and have treasured it ever since. Among other things it says, “People today are not in need of assurances about the truth of doubtful beliefs. They need the faith to doubt. They need the faith by which to reject idols. The churches cannot preach to this age if they stand outside of it, living in the illusory security of yesterday’s beliefs. These [already] lie about us broken, and we cannot by taking thought raise them from the dead”. Far from demonstrating a lack of faith, the very act of discarding outworn beliefs may in fact do just the opposite by opening the door for genuine faith to operate again. Indeed the assertion that one needs to believe a particular creed or set of doctrines in order to have faith is an invitation to credulity rather than to faith— and childlike faith is vastly different from childish credulity

The other factor in regaining trust after it’s been broken is a practical one: a track record. If someone breaks your trust, words are nice; but you then need to see a consistent track record of improved behavior. Only then can you begin trusting that the cheater’s values are now aligned properly and the person really will change. Unfortunately, building a track record for trust takes time—certainly a lot more time than it takes to break trust. And during that trust-building period, things are likely to be pretty shitty. So both people in the relationship must be conscious of the struggle they’re choosing to undertake. I use the example of cheating in a romantic relationship, but this process applies to a breach in any relationship. When trust is destroyed, it can be rebuilt only if the following two steps happen: 1) the trust-breaker admits the true values that caused the breach and owns up to them, and 2) the trust-breaker builds a solid track record of improved behavior over time. Without the first step, there should be no attempt at reconciliation in the first place. Trust is like a china plate. If you break it once, with some care and attention you can put it back together again. But if you break it again, it splits into even more pieces and it takes far longer to piece together again. If you break it more and more times, eventually it shatters to the point where it’s impossible to restore. There are too many broken pieces, and too much dust.

The problem with trust is, once it's broken, it's hard to repair. Anything that threatens it again can take the fracture and break it in two, even if the truth isn't what you perceive.

The problem is that once broken, trust is difficult to repair.

Life will break you. Life will make you. As we walk along this tide, sometimes our hearts get too entangled in the pit fire of wants, we don't even know what we seek in the mirage of our apparent want. We dress up in smiles everyday and every hour but never do we hold on to our laughters. Exceptions are there, of course. But I have realised that most of us often fall into this wound's kiss and fly off to our cocoon of solitude, to stay more safe in the comfort of not getting hurt. But is it really safe, to not feel? Is not getting hurt a part of feeling or experiencing life too? Doesn't our own wall of Solitude break us too with a yearning of our heart that wants to connect, to love, to grow? You have to love. You have to feel. That's the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart, after all you risked your soul to come onto this voyage in this spectrum of Unknown. You are here to be swallowed up, to save yourself with the poison of Love. And when you find yourself broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, then burn and be born of its ashes! And once in a while sit by an apple tree and as you watch the apples falling in heaps, remember how many of them are wasting their sweetness, just like that. Garner that Life, where you can tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could. Love & Light, always Life will break you. Life will make you. As we walk along this tide, sometimes our hearts get too entangled in the pit fire of wants, we don't even know what we seek in the mirage of our apparent want. We dress up in smiles everyday and every hour but never do we hold on to our laughters. Exceptions are there, of course. But I have realised that most of us often fall into this wound's kiss and fly off to our cocoon of solitude, to stay more safe in the comfort of not getting hurt. But is it really safe, to not feel? Is not getting hurt a part of feeling or experiencing life too? Doesn't our own wall of Solitude break us too with a yearning of our heart that wants to connect, to love, to grow? You have to love. You have to feel. That's the reason you are here on earth. You are here to risk your heart, after all you risked your soul to come onto this voyage in this spectrum of Unknown. You are here to be swallowed up, to save yourself with the poison of Love. And when you find yourself broken, or betrayed, or left, or hurt, or death brushes near, then burn and be born of its ashes! And once in a while sit by an apple tree and as you watch the apples falling in heaps, remember how many of them are wasting their sweetness, just like that. Garner that Life, where you can tell yourself that you tasted as many as you could.

I suppose that loudmouthed bastard told you more than was necessary.' 'You voted against me,' she said, her cold voice belying the crack in her chest. 'You have done nothing to prove you are able to handle such a terrible power,' Amren said with equal iciness. 'On that barge, you told me as much when you walked away from any attempt at mastering it. I offered to teach you more, and you walked away.' 'I walked away because you chose my sister.' Just as Elain had done. Amren had been her friend, her ally, and yet in the end, it hadn't mattered one bit. She'd picked Feyre. 'I didn't choose anyone, you stupid girl,' Amren snapped. 'I told you that Feyre had requested you and I work together again, and you somehow twist that into me siding with her?' Nesta said nothing. 'I told them to leave you alone for months. I refused to speak about you with them. And then the moment I realised my behaviour was not helping you, that maybe your sister was right, I somehow betrayed you?' Nesta shook. 'You know how I feel about Feyre.' 'Yes, poor Nesta, with a younger sister who loves her so dearly she's willing to do anything to get her help.' Nesta blocked out the memory of Tamlin in his beast form, how she had wanted to rip him limb from limb. She was no better than him, in the end. 'Feyre doesn't have me.' She didn't deserve Feyre's love. Just as Tamlin hadn't. Amren barked out a laugh. 'That you believe Feyre doesn't only proves you're unworthy of your power. Anyone that willingly blind cannot be trusted. You would be a walking nightmare with those weapons.' 'It's different now.' The words rang hollow. Was it any different? Was she any different that she'd been this summer, when she and Amren had fought on the barge, and Amren's utter disappointment in her failure to be anything had surfaced at last? Amren smiled, as if she knew that, too. 'You can train as hard as you want, fuck Cassian as often as you want, but it isn't going to fix what's broken if you don't start reflecting.' 'Don't preach at me.. You-' She pointed at Amren, and could have sworn the female stepped out of the line of fire. Just as Tamlin had done. As if Amren also remembered that the last time Nesta had pointed at an enemy, it had ended with his severed head in her hands. A joyless laugh broke from her. 'You think I'd mark you with a death-promise?' 'You nearly did with Tamlin the other day.' So Cassian had told them all about that, too. 'But I'll say to you again what I said on that barge. I think you have powers that you still do not understand, respect, or control.' 'How dare you assume you know what is best for me?' When Amren didn't answer, Nesta hissed, 'You were my friend.' Amren's teeth flashed. 'Was I? I don't think you know what that word means.' Her chest ached, as if that invisible fist had punched her once again. Steps thudded beyond the shattered door, and she braced for Cassian to come roaring in- But it was Feyre.

In the eyes of most, I was winning at the life of partying, so I could see what most didn't see: it was empty. I kept thinking if a little feels good, more will feel better, but I was wrong. It was a lie. It was only once I’d attained everything this life could offer that I could see clearly what a lie it really was. The best this life had to offer was a slew of broken relationships, mangled trust, a compromised future, destructive habits, friends who used you, people who only wanted you for what you had to offer, and an empty hole that no matter how much you threw down it, it hungered all the more.

In some aspects of life, once broken, repair is nearly impossible. Trust is one of them.

CAN YOU NOT REMEMBER? When did this brutality grow? Can you not remember? Go back to the place where you left that man dying. This time you must bring him back with you. I see you in my dreams. Your face is edged with battle. I touch your forehead from a distant land. The Earth glare is so bright. It washes the white memory from your mind. Have you forgotten we come from the same place? Settle, settle, peace, peace. When did this brutality grow? Can you not remember? Go back to the place where you left that man dying. This time you must bring him back with you. You are looking for something, demanding to be found. Make your way back from that broken land. Return from that empty place. There is nothing there for you. It holds a million shadows. There are no friends there. Settle, settle, peace, peace. When did this brutality grow? Can you not remember? Go back to the place where you left that man dying. This time you must bring him back with you. It is warmer here. Can you see the light? Trust it. It is safe. It has lived a long time. It has seen much more than you. You fight a demon that you once knew but the demon is already slain. And from the corner of your eye you will see the scattered, sacred fire reform again. Settle, settle, peace, peace.

Indeed, it was very natural that once someone had been very hurt that they would seek to protect themselves from their own judgment in the future as they would no longer trust it in its totality as human beings judged those they trusted and once that trust had been broken one to many times, the damage inflicted upon them certainly changed them as people.

In some aspects of life, once broken, repair is nearly impossible. Trust is one of those.

The trust, and love, if once broken, cannot reinstate as it was; however, one may go ahead with the diplomacy.

Trust comes easily from me, but once it's broken, you’ll never have access to me again.

Trust is fragile, yet the hardest thing to regain once broken.

As an architect, every design I create is a mark of trust, trust in materials, trust in my team, and trust in the earth beneath our feet. But nothing could have readied me for the collapse I experienced when that trust was broken from within. I had laboriously built up a $400,000 Bitcoin hoard over several years, a monetary safety net for my business to weather financial tempests and fund future projects. I entrusted its defense to a long-time business partner, a man who I once considered my right arm. That trust fell apart when he betrayed me. It started subtly. I noticed minor discrepancies, delayed logins, emails not returned. Then one morning, I was locked out altogether. He was gone. The phones weren't answered, his office cleared overnight, and my heart pounded in alarm. The electronic safe haven of our hard-won savings was now a fortress without a key, hostage to a ghost. Rage and panic warred within me. I envisioned telling my employees that our future was doubtful because I had trusted the wrong person. Sleepless nights were spent searching the web for miracles. That was when, at an architectural design expo in Milan, I overheard two colleagues discussing FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY. Their stories of miraculous crypto recoveries caught my attention like a ray of light piercing a room darkened by shadows. With nothing to lose, I reached out to FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY. Their staff handled my case from the very first consultation with the same discretion and precision that I bring to my own cases. They did not handle my case like a transaction but like a delicate form that had to be painstakingly restored. Their cybersecurity experts meticulously tracked my partner's digital footprints, unraveling his complex attempt to hide his trail. Through cutting-edge blockchain tracing and legal action, they slowly dismantled his blockade. I was updated daily, step by step, like progress reports on a skyscraper rising from the earth. Fifteen tense days later, the call came. They had succeeded. The money was back in our firm's possession, intact and secure. Relief washed over me like the unveiling of a completed work of art. FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY not only got back money; they got back my hope. They made me realize that even when trust is lost, there are still able hands ready to rebuild. For that, I will forever be grateful. WhatsApp:+13612504110 Email: fundsreclaimercompany@zohomail.com

As an architect, every design I create is a mark of trust, trust in materials, trust in my team, and trust in the earth beneath our feet. But nothing could have readied me for the collapse I experienced when that trust was broken from within. I had laboriously built up a $400,000 Bitcoin hoard over several years, a monetary safety net for my business to weather financial tempests and fund future projects. I entrusted its defense to a long-time business partner, a man who I once considered my right arm. That trust fell apart when he betrayed me. It started subtly. I noticed minor discrepancies, delayed logins, emails not returned. Then one morning, I was locked out altogether. He was gone. The phones weren't answered, his office cleared overnight, and my heart pounded in alarm. The electronic safe haven of our hard-won savings was now a fortress without a key, hostage to a ghost. Rage and panic warred within me. I envisioned telling my employees that our future was doubtful because I had trusted the wrong person. Sleepless nights were spent searching the web for miracles. That was when, at an architectural design expo in Milan, I overheard two colleagues discussing FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY. Their stories of miraculous crypto recoveries caught my attention like a ray of light piercing a room darkened by shadows. With nothing to lose, I reached out to FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY. Their staff handled my case from the very first consultation with the same discretion and precision that I bring to my own cases. They did not handle my case like a transaction but like a delicate form that had to be painstakingly restored. Their cybersecurity experts meticulously tracked my partner's digital footprints, unraveling his complex attempt to hide his trail. Through cutting-edge blockchain tracing and legal action, they slowly dismantled his blockade. I was updated daily, step by step, like progress reports on a skyscraper rising from the earth. Fifteen tense days later, the call came. They had succeeded. The money was back in our firm's possession, intact and secure. Relief washed over me like the unveiling of a completed work of art. FUNDS RECLIAMER COMPANY not only got back money; they got back my hope. They made me realize that even when trust is lost, there are still able hands ready to rebuild. For that, I will forever be grateful. WhatsApp:+13612504110 Email: fundsreclaimercompany@zohomail.com

Though the scoffers still revile at Christianity and say that it spreads not as once it did, a speedy answer shall confound them, or if not speedy, yet the stroke shall be sure! Our King waits a while. He has leisure. Haste belongs to weakness. His strength moves calmly. Only let Him be awakened and you shall see how quick are His paces! He redeemed the world in a few short hours upon the Cross and I guarantee you that when He gets that iron rod once to working, He will not need many days to ease Him of His adversaries and make a clean sweep of all that set themselves against Him! If you want to see how it will be done, read, I pray you, Daniel 2:31—“You, O king, saw and behold a great image. This great image, whose brightness was excellent, stood before you; and the form thereof was terrible. This image’s head was of fine gold, his breast and his arms of silver, his belly and his thighs of brass, his legs of iron, his feet part of iron and part of clay.” It was a strange conglomeration—all the metallic empires are set forth as combined in one image—which image is the embodied idea of monarchical power which has fascinated men even to this day. The Prophet goes on to say, “You saw still that a stone was cut out without hands, which smote the image upon his feet that were of iron and clay and broke them to pieces. Then was the iron, the clay, the brass, the silver and the gold broken to pieces together and became like the chaff of the summer threshing floors and the wind carried them away, that no place was found for them: and the stone that smote the image became a great mountain and filled the whole earth.” And so it is to be—the vision is being each day fulfilled. The Gospel stone, which owes nothing to human strength or wisdom, is breaking the image and scattering all opposing powers. No system, society, confederacy, or cabinet can stand which is opposed to the Truth of God and righteousness. I, even I, that am but of yesterday and know nothing, have seen one of the mightiest of empires of modern times melt away all of a sudden as the frost of the morning in the heat of the sun. I have seen monarchs driven out of their tyrannies by the powers of a single man and a free nation born as in an hour. I have seen states which fought to hold the Negro in perpetual captivity subdued by those whom they despised, while the slave has been set free! I have seen nations chastened under evil governments and revived when the yoke has been broken and they have returned to the way of righteousness and peace. He who lives longest shall see most of this. Evil is short-lived. Truth shall yet rise above all. The Lord says, overturn, overturn till He shall come whose right it is and God shall give it to Him. Woe unto those that stand against the Lord and His Anointed, for they shall not prosper. “Be wise now, therefore, O you kings: be instructed, you judges of the earth. Kiss the Son, lest He be angry and you perish from the way, when His wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in Him.

Once you are in love, you remain always in love, sometimes fulfilled and most of the times unfulfilled and broken but you remain in love. Beauty of love is to find a way when you feel there is no way to get out of the dark room. I find it more beautiful and accomplished when you are broken but you still remain in love , i find it more astonishing when he/she left you alone but you still accompany him everywhere, I find it more hedonistic when you manage to have a beautiful smile which has struggled through tears.You may say that your beloved has cheated you, your prince charming lied you, your princess sell down the river, though you have done more than that you could do and one question which is even more painful than being slaughtered is WHY SHE/HE DID THIS TO ME which remains always unanswered. This makes your life wretchedness and see who is responsible ....No not your beloved/prince/princess its you only who is in search of something which will make no difference in your life. Let them go if they want to go, if they are happy with someone else, don't beg for the love, let the love come to you automatically.You deserve to be happy, respected and much better in your life. It is difficult to remain in love when someone suddenly disappear from your life but trust me once you understand that you have really loved them, once you understand that their state of being happy is what you always wished for is more important than that they are with you unhappy or betraying you, once you understand that life has always something better for you, once you understand the value of being lively and happy ,,,,,YOU WON'T HATE HER/HIM AGAIN IN LIFE FOR STABBING YOUR BACK ....FORGIVENESS IS THE BEST MEDICINE FOR THE PEACE OF YOUR HEART & DO REMEMBER YOUR HEART DESERVES PEACE NOT THE PIECES. Love is the best thing you can cater to yourself instead of asking from someone else.

Narian and I left the parlor shortly thereafter in high spirits. The former Queen had been very accepting of him, and he had been remarkably forthcoming with her. Somehow, through common experience and maternal instinct, she had reached out to forge a connection with her future son-in-law. We went to my quarters and Narian stayed in the parlor while I changed for dinner, although he would not accompany me to the meal--we may have had luck with my mother, but my father would not be so receptive to the news of our betrothal. When I reemerged in simpler garb, he was in an armchair, contemplatively rubbing his once-broken wrist, his face growing progressively more trouble. I glanced around the room, wondering what could possibly have happened to change his temperament in the short time we had been apart. “Narian? What is it?” He shook his head, then ran a hand through his thick blond hair. “Your mother would make an excellent interrogator.” I couldn’t help it--I laughed, harder than I had in a long time. “I hardly think she’s the type!” “Find it as funny as you like,” he said with a smile. “But I don’t know what I was telling her!” “Well, do you regret it?” I asked, and he flashed through a myriad of emotions: confusion, deliberation, discomfort at having been so open with her, then, at last, acceptance. “No,” he said, with a touch of wonder. “I…I understand it now, I suppose--why you talk to her. Why you trust her. I wanted to trust her.” I walked over to him and sat in his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but it’s time I did. I’m in love with you, Narian.” “I love you, too,” he said, the corners of his mouth flicking upward. The words weren’t so difficult, after all.

Love is like a beautiful glass, transparent, precious and clear. Once broken, you can imagine how it looks. Can be fixed but it's never same again.

As in any relationship, once I learned to trust, my bike delivered, and I became stronger. I felt I’d broken through some barrier and left something behind. It was a soaring emotion.

We'd seen it a million times before, since girls on the Tracks rarely knew of loyalty. She'd be gone when the breeze got under her skin. "You can't trust Vagabond hearts. They are already so broken that they think nothing of breaking yours," he had explained once. I wondered who was the first to break his heart–where he'd gained that knowledge the first time around.

For once trust is broken within a group or amongst individuals, you can be sure that only evil will result.

Trust is like a china plate. If you break it once, with some care and attention you can put it back together again. But if you break it again, it splits into even more pieces and it takes far longer to piece together again. If you break it more and more times, eventually it shatters to the point where it’s impossible to restore. There are too many broken pieces, and too much dust.

Once I received a clearer understanding, I realized that God will indeed put more on us than we can bear. He does provide a way of escape, but that escape is not through the flesh, but through allowing God to break the flesh so that our strength is in God alone. Sometimes the flesh has to be broken, and we’ll keep living according to the flesh until circumstances become more than we can manage on our own. As long as I can keep winning the battle in the flesh, I will stay dependent upon the flesh. God will allow circumstances to become overwhelming in the flesh as He calls us to let go and trust Him. A broken life in the flesh becomes the invitation to walk by faith in the Spirit. Then true victory comes into view.

Honesty is extremely important to me. Without honesty, there can be no trust. Everyone makes mistakes, Mr. Dempsey, and more often than not they are easily rectified. However, once the bonds of trust are broken they are beyond repair.

Broken glass can be mended. Even steel can be repaired and even welded. but Trust, once broken...

heard sudden movement, as if someone had sat up quickly. They stood up, whoever they were, and he heard soft footsteps. “Eamon? Eamon, is that really you?” Holy shit. He bolted to his feet. “Madam President?” A chuckle. “I told you to call me Barb, Eamon.” With two steps he crossed the breadth of the cell and held onto the bars, straining to see around and to his left, to the other cell holding Avery. “You’re alive? But … General Norton told me your ship exploded. He accused me of doing it!” She chuckled again, then sighed. “Well, in his defense, I did suspect you. Told him to keep an eye on you. Told him you might try something like this.” “You did?” “Looks like we were both played. Played like a freshman congressman. Here we are, at the top of our games, seasoned politicians, feared or loved by everyone, and we were outdone … by a soldier.” He shook his head. “He can’t be acting alone. Speaker LaPierre must be behind it. Why else go after both of us at once?” She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he heard movement as if she’d sunk down to her knees or sat down on the floor. Moments later, a hand reached out, just visible past the last bar of his cell. The gold band of her turquoise ring flashed in the dim light. It was Avery all right. He knelt down and reached out to it. Holding it. She gripped back tightly. “Eamon, I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you. This was all my fault. All I wanted was to save Earth, and now I may have doomed it.” Her voice sounded small. To his ears, she seemed broken. Her tone sounded like one defeated. Utterly

How to Jump: Once again we stand before our audience. The _Others_ wait for us to speak. Still we ask, how can we jump free? How can we speak. I say, turn inward. Feel the fear. Again, touch where it resides—yes, just above the solar plexus, that one glowing spot in painful spasm. Feel it. for there we can begin with something we know is _real_. And now can we jump? Sometimes when I begin a speech, I look each member of the audience in the eyes. In a large group it sometimes takes a half minute or more. The silence grows uncomfortable. the people stare back. I hear the nervous coughs. But something has happened between us. Without words, I have shared with them the same feelings I suffer. I have felt fear, and then turn, have felt its discomfort in the pressing silence in the room. Finally I begin, “It’ is all right for us to feel uncomfortable as we launch our relationship. We do not know each other. We have no experience upon which to trust each other. Why shouldn’t we feel uncomfortable. I wondered as I looked at you what you expect of me. What do you think of me? And as I look at you, you too, must have wondered what I am thinking of you.” I have jumped. “We are going to have a valuable time together.” I have broken free.

A man of secrets and lies is a storm of deceit; approach with caution, for trust once broken may never mend.

Metro Pillar – 211, 22, NDV Towers, First Floor, Kanakapura Rd, above Dry Fruit Shop, Raghuvanahalli, Bengaluru, Karnataka 560062 Contact Us +91 8618292628 Who Is The best orthopedists doctors in bangalore, India? 6 Tips That May Reduce Knee Pain If you have experienced orthopedic problems before, finding an expert orthopedist may seem like an intimidating task - particularly if this is your first visit. Asking questions that clarify what they know will make finding an appropriate provider much simpler. How Can I Locate an Effective Orthopedic Doctor Near Me? Search Online for Orthopedic Doctors When seeking an orthopedic physician, your first step should be searching online. A simple Google search like "best orthopedists doctors in bangalore" will produce a list of orthopedists and surgeons in your locality; reviews on social media platforms provide additional insights into patient satisfaction and provider reputation. Personal recommendations can also be a reliable source. Speaking to friends, family, and even your primary doctor can be helpful - for example if they suspect you have foot conditions they may refer you to an orthopedic specialist in that field - asking the appropriate questions can help identify which orthopedist best meets your needs. 5. Tips to Select an Orthopedic Surgeon Selecting an Orthopedic Surgeon Deciding to visit an orthopedic surgeon can be both relieving and nerve-wracking. From primary care physician referrals to seeking specialty care, selecting an ideal doctor is key - here are five tips to help. Begin Your Search Begin your search by consulting your primary healthcare provider or other healthcare providers, friends and family as well as healthcare professionals for referrals of orthopedic surgeons in your area. Once you have compiled a shortlist, set appointments with those on it to start consulting them directly. Research the Orthopedic Surgeon's Credentials Certification is crucial when selecting an orthopedic surgeon. It shows they possess the necessary education and experience needed to provide quality specialized orthopedic care, like Dr. Abhinandan Punit of Elite Orthocare who is board-certified with expertise treating numerous bone and joint conditions. Experience Matters When it comes to treating complex orthopedic conditions, experience is of the utmost importance. The more cases a doctor has handled successfully, the higher your chances of a positive result are. Dr. Abhinandan Punit of Elite Orthocare boasts years of experience treating sports injuries, fractures and joint issues; thus earning his place among Bangalore's premier orthopedic specialists. Research Hospital Quality Quality is also of vital importance in selecting an orthopedic surgeon. Dr. Abhinandan Punit practices at Elite Orthocare, a state-of-the-art facility recognized for providing top-of-the-line orthopedic care and one of the premier clinics for orthopedists in Bangalore. Read Patient Satisfaction Surveys Reading reviews provides valuable insights into a doctor's approach to treatment, their bedside manner and overall patient experience. Google reviews for Elite Orthocare highlight Dr. Abhinandan Punit's professionalism, dedication and ability to clearly explain procedures as hallmarks of his high trust among his patients. Dr. Abhinandan Punit of Elite Orthocare in Bangalore is highly adept in treating an array of orthopedic conditions, from sports injuries and shoulder issues to joint problems and bone breaks. His expertise extends from everyday people to professional athletes; whether dealing with broken bones or complex joint issues he ensures personalized care at Elite Orthocare as one of Bangalore's premier orthopedic clinics.

breath. “A quest of old must be taken, to seek the page now forsaken. If these words don’t find thee well, take the tunnel where Seelie dwell. By his hand time can be taken, her journey back must now awaken. But for this quest she walks alone, the Tower seeks the frozen throne. To play with rules that can’t be broken, for only one can claim the spoken. Cross the dark between the lines, roll the dice to read the signs. Seek the one who paid the price, change the name, she won’t play nice. But first a soul to seek in dire need, relieve the hole then take his lead. The road you walk is bleak and grim, when in doubt head back to him. But before thee go a ruse to make, by heir and Aether a perfect fake. Will of magic, strength in deed, to replace in kind for which you need. Once thee find the page in question, the Tower makes the last impression. So take her bag that holds it all, trust thy heart for what to haul. Upon thy arm my word shall come, to find the page crumb by crumb.

The problem is you trust them. Then they break it and once it’s broken, you never get it back. It’s that simple, but you don’t want to see it like that.

Though time and distance have chiseled us into strangers, and the architecture of our hearts has been burdened by contracts, pride, and the silent weight of unspoken truths, I stand here not as the son I once was but as a man now forged by love and loss. Father, in the shadow of all our misunderstandings, I have carried you—your lessons, your struggles, your very essence—like cracks in stained glass that do not mar, but illuminate. Today, I say what was left unsaid in the echoing chambers of our shared, fractured world: I love you. And in saying so, I know that even broken trust cannot silence the eternal note of redemption that binds us, for in being your son, I have learned how to find the strength to become myself. And yet, it is because of you that I stand whole.

A bitter taste settles on my tongue, and I feel the sting of an unspoken insult. In this stark moment, I question everything: the words we shared, the laughter that once felt real, the trust I placed in your hands.

And now, my words seem empty, hollow. I am left allergic to your presence, disgraced me, not once, but twice. The very DNA we share is tainted, fractured. In the presence of all, I shall bear it no more.

A man's ego feels the deepest burn — and once betrayed, no feeling survives. Forgiveness fades where trust is broken.

Love Spell in San Francisco – Reignite the Power of True Love" Love is the most exquisite feeling; it becomes a source of strong pain when it turns sour or hits stumbling blocks. To reinstate affection and lost connections, Love Spell San Francisco presents an effective spiritual solution. Love spells are more than just rituals; they are potent spiritual practices aligning universal energies to bring love, trust, and harmony back into relationships. Understanding the Power of Love Spells A Love Spell in San Francisco has been designed to attract genuine love or reunite one with their lost partner. These spells make use of ancient astrology and spiritual energy to invoke natural forces of the universe to combine two hearts. Whether your heart is aching from heartbreak, misunderstandings, or emotional distance, these love spells help recreate positive vibrations between partners. Love spells remove emotional barriers, rekindle passion, and increase mutual understanding. They are tailor-made for each unique situation, be it a one-sided love affair, a broken relationship, or a marriage that has reached the verge of separation. The aim is to restore stability and affection while making sure emotional balance is long-lasting. Why Choose a Love Spell in San Francisco? Spiritual openness and diversity mark San Francisco, a place where energies flow so freely. Many people turn to competent astrologers and spiritual healers who cast personalized love spells in an effort to transform their emotional life. A Love Spell in San Francisco isn't about forcing someone's feelings; it is about restoring natural attraction and removing the negative influences that disturb relationships. A professional love spell caster will prepare the right combination of mantras, rituals, and spiritual guidance with the help of an analysis of your astrological chart and emotional aura. These love spells are safe, ethical, and sourced from ancient traditions to ensure an outcome that is positive, non-harmful, and not manipulative. Love and Energy Cleansing Connection Sometimes, issues in relationships are both emotional and spiritual. Negative energies, jealousy, and dark forces stand in the way of your happiness and prohibit love from flourishing. It is then that Voodoo Removal in San Francisco is essential. Voodoo or black magic can disrupt your energy field, creating misunderstandings, distance, or even sudden break-ups. During Voodoo Removal in San Francisco, spiritual healers clear the dark vibrations around your relationship and allow love spells to work effectively. When negative energies are eliminated, your heart and mind open themselves again to pure love and harmony. Rebuild Love and Peace in Your Life A San Francisco Love Spell may provide the key to emotional healing and renewal for those longing to reunite with a partner or reinforce a present bond. These rituals of spiritual guidance, energy alignment, and deep understanding help restore peace, affection, and happiness. Whether you are facing heartbreak, disloyalty, or unexplained distance, finding a trusted spell caster will get your love journey back on track. Love is powerful, and with the right kind of guidance, you will be able to manifest it back into your life. Rediscover the magic of love, restore your bond, and let positivity guide your heart once again with a Love Spell in San Francisco.

Ileave her in the kitchen because if I stay even one second longer, I’m going to kiss her. I’m going to forget everything I promised myself I wouldn’t do, and I’m going to reach for her like she’s mine again, like her body wasn’t once a battlefield and her mouth hasn’t been stained by lies, and I’ll pull her into my lap and press her back against the counter and bury myself in the one place I’ve never stopped craving. And I can’t do that. Not yet. Not when the wound is still fresh and the trust still broken and the truth has only just begun to settle between us like dust we haven’t swept clean.

Get Your Ex Back in Los Angeles Love is the most beautiful emotion in life, but if it dies out or comes to a jolting halt, it leaves a void that seems impossible to fill. Many individuals face a similar situation in Los Angeles, where moving on proves to be very difficult, and all they want is a second chance to get things right. If you do desire to get your ex back in Los Angeles, then there is hope-and spiritual guidance could be the answer you have been searching for. An authentic love spell caster in Los Angeles can reunite you with your lost love by utilizing ancient spiritual practices that restore the emotional balance of attraction. These spells are designed not to manipulate but to align the universe with your heart's true desires and bring back harmony between you and your partner. The Power of Love Spells Spells have been part of love and relationships for centuries, practiced in many diverse cultures to heal broken hearts, strengthen relationships, and reunite lovers who have been torn apart by misunderstandings or the challenges of life. With the guidance of an experienced Love Spell Caster in Los Angeles, these rituals can remove emotional blockages, misunderstandings, and negative energies that may have caused the breakup. Every relationship has its ups and downs, but at times, destiny simply needs one little push. A love spell can rekindle the spark that once burned between you and your ex-partner, paving the way to rebuild the bond with greater understanding and love. Why Choose a Love Spell Caster in Los Angeles? Energy and emotion flow ceaselessly in Los Angeles, and this makes it one of the most powerful places for spiritual healing. A good Love Spell Caster in Los Angeles will know how to channel this vibrant energy into your love life. Whether your breakup is caused by jealousy, distance, miscommunication, or outside influences, the right spiritual intervention can help you overcome these barriers. Not only does the caster focus on bringing your ex back into your life, but also on creating emotional stability and long-lasting happiness in your relationship. You can receive a real transformation in regenerating mutual love and trust through personalized rituals, prayers, and energy balancing. How the Process Works Love spell casting begins with a consultation in which one's emotional situation is understood in detail. The Los Angeles Love Spell Caster then performs a ritual tailored to your particular needs; this may involve candles, mantras, or crystals that resonate with your energies. Once the spell is performed, it sends out positive vibrations that attract your ex back, often times leading to open communication, forgiveness, and reconciliation. A Path to New Beginnings It is necessary to trust your heart and the spiritual process when you try to get your ex back in Los Angeles. Love spells are not about control; they are about restoring balance, opening hearts, and giving love another chance. If you are ready to rebuild your relationship and bring back the person who really matters to you, find an expert Love Spell Caster in Los Angeles today. Allow spiritual energy to guide you along the path toward reunion, emotional healing, and eternal love.

+91-9119180151 : Secrets of Lost Love Back – Ancient Vashikaran Wisdom Love, once lost, often leaves behind emptiness that words cannot describe. But what if there were ancient secrets that could rekindle that lost flame — methods preserved through centuries of Indian spiritual tradition? Secrets of Lost Love Back – Ancient Vashikaran Wisdom is a profound journey into the mystical art of attraction, harmony, and emotional healing through the time-tested science of Vashikaran. This book unravels the powerful yet misunderstood knowledge of Vashikaran — an ancient Indian practice that harmonizes energies, balances emotions, and restores love between separated souls. Written in simple, compassionate language, it serves as both a spiritual guide and a practical manual for those who wish to bring their lost love back, rebuild broken relationships, or create deep emotional understanding with their partner. Inside these pages, you’ll explore the core principles of Vashikaran, its spiritual meaning, and how it can be used for positive purposes — not to control, but to connect. The author blends centuries-old mantras, astrological insights, and energy practices with modern psychology and relationship wisdom, making this book accessible for everyone seeking love healing in today’s world. Here’s what you’ll discover in this transformative guide: The true meaning and origin of Vashikaran in ancient Indian scriptures. How to use Vashikaran for positive intentions — love, peace, and mutual respect. Step-by-step mantra practices to attract, heal, and restore emotional connection. How to balance your heart chakra and love aura through meditation. Ancient rituals to invoke divine blessings for love reunion. Real-life success stories of couples who reunited through spiritual remedies. The link between astrology, karma, and relationship destiny. How to cleanse negative energy, doubts, and past emotional blocks. The importance of self-love and positive visualization in manifesting your soulmate. Each chapter is crafted with wisdom, sensitivity, and authenticity — offering readers a deeper understanding of how energy and intention shape human relationships. Through practical guidance and sacred practices, this book reveals how you can transform pain into power and separation into togetherness. Secrets of Lost Love Back – Ancient Vashikaran Wisdom does not promote manipulation or control; rather, it emphasizes the spiritual purity of love — the kind that grows from trust, forgiveness, and divine connection. It’s a journey to rediscover not just your partner, but also your inner peace and emotional balance. This book is ideal for anyone who: Has lost their true love and wishes to reunite. Believes in spiritual solutions for emotional challenges. Wants to learn authentic, ancient Vashikaran practices. Seeks inner healing and a deeper understanding of love’s energy. Step into a world where spirituality meets love, where ancient mantras meet modern hearts. Let the timeless energy of Vashikaran guide you back to the one you love — with purity, purpose, and positivity. Unlock the secrets. Reignite the bond. Because true love never really fades — it just waits to be called back.

I want to make my terms very clear. I don’t believe reality is malleable, variable, or constructed. Reality is as unyielding as a policeman’s club. Unlike that club, however, the shared reality of 320 million persons can’t be experienced directly: it’s mediated. For the last century and a half, the elites, and even more the institutions they manage, have been the arbiters of mediated certainty and truth. The government addressed social “problems” and placed difficult national episodes in perspective. The news media selected for the public’s attention a handful of topics and events. Scientific institutions gave out trusted advice on health and other specialized matters. Each of these institutions possessed a semi-monopoly over the information in its own domain. They were keepers of the stories that explained us to ourselves. They uttered, from above, the authoritative truth. What happens when the mediators lose their legitimacy—when the shared stories that hold us together are depleted of their binding force? That’s easy to answer. Look around: we happen. The mirror in which we used to find ourselves faithfully reflected in the world has shattered. The great narratives are fracturing into shards. What passes for authority is devolving to the political war-band and the online mob—that is, to the shock troops of populism, left and right. Deprived of a legitimate authority to interpret events and settle factual disputes, we fly apart from each other—or rather, we flee into our own heads, into a subjectivized existence. We assume ornate and exotic identities, and bear them in the manner of those enormous wigs once worn at Versailles. Here, I believe, is the source of that feeling of unreality or post-truth so prevalent today. Having lost faith in authority, the public has migrated to the broken pieces of the old narratives and explanations: shards of reality that deny the truth of all the others and often find them incomprehensible. Let’s examine Donald Trump in this context. The president tells falsehoods. As might be expected, his opponents have condemned him as a deliberate liar—and this might well be the case. But many of Trump’s lies seem politically pointless. Why would he complain about voter fraud in an election he won? What impact can the size of an inaugural crowd possibly have? Another thesis, no less problematic, can account for such odd behavior. The president may just be a creature of our fractured age: he speaks,

I suppose once trust is broken, it’s never fully repaired.