Paths Crossed For A Reason Quotes

I don't think that anything happens by coincidence... No one is here by accident... Everyone who crosses our path has a message for us. Otherwise they would have taken another path, or left earlier or later. The fact that these people are here means that they are here for some reason"...

For some reason I believed that if you fell in love it was a guaranteed thing that your path would cross with his, and I never wondered how if would feel to fall in love with a man whose future just couldn't include you.

There was no reason for Bella Swan to cross paths with me. She would be avoided like the plague she was.

A man breaking his journey between one place and another at a third place of no name, character, population or significance, sees a unicorn cross his path and disappear. That in itself is startling, but there are precedents for mystical encounters of various kinds, or to be less extreme, a choice of persuasions to put it down to fancy; until--"My God," says a second man, "I must be dreaming, I thought I saw a unicorn." At which point, a dimension is added that makes the experience as alarming as it will ever be. A third witness, you understand, adds no further dimension but only spreads it thinner, and a fourth thinner still, and the more witnesses there are the thinner it gets and the more reasonable it becomes until it is as thin as reality, the name we give to the common experience... "Look, look!" recites the crowd. "A horse with an arrow in its forehead! It must have been mistaken for a deer.

We don’t meet people by accident. They’re meant to cross out path for a reason.

We were friends and have become estranged. But this was right, and we do not want to conceal and obscure it from ourselves as if we had reason to feel ashamed. We are two ships each of which has its goal and course; our paths may cross and we may celebrate a feast together, as we did - and then the good ships rested so quietly in one harbor and one sunshine that it may have looked as if they had reached their goal and as if they had one goal. But then the mighty force of our tasks drove us apart again into different seas and sunny zones, and perhaps we shall never see each other again; perhaps we shall meet again but fail to recognize each other: our exposure to different seas and suns has changed us.

We never meet people by chance. They are destined to cross our paths for a reason.

When we do cross paths with people whose beliefs and attitudes conflict with our own, we are rarely challenged.

It says that whenever people cross our paths, there is always a message for us. Chance encounters do not exist. But how we respond to these encounters determines whether we’re able to receive the message. If we have a conversation with someone who crosses our path and we do not see a message pertaining to our current questions, it does not mean there was no message. It only means we missed it for some reason.

Star friendship.— We were friends and have become estranged. But this was right, and we do not want to conceal and obscure it from ourselves as if we had reason to feel ashamed. We are two ships each of which has its goal and course; our paths may cross and we may celebrate a feast together, as we did—and then the good ships rested so quietly in one harbor and one sunshine that it may have looked as if they had reached their goal and as if they had one goal. But then the almighty force of our tasks drove us apart again into different seas and sunny zones, and perhaps we shall never see one another again,—perhaps we shall meet again but fail to recognize each other: our exposure to different seas and suns has changed us! That we have to become estranged is the law above us: by the same token we should also become more venerable for each other! And thus the memory of our former friendship should become more sacred! There is probably a tremendous but invisible stellar orbit in which our very different ways and goals may be included as small parts of this path,—let us rise up to this thought! But our life is too short and our power of vision too small for us to be more than friends in the sense of this sublime possibility.— Let us then believe in our star friendship even if we should be compelled to be earth enemies.

He came back into the room and frowned at the calendar. He didn’t want to know what today’s message said, because yesterday’s was the absolute worst. He’d said hello and everything had turned upside down. Gus frowned, because he was good at it. “Ugh,” he said. “Fine.” We don’t meet people by accident. They are meant to cross our path for a reason. Gus stared at the inspirational calendar. “Are you spying on me?” he eventually whispered. The inspirational calendar did not reply.

Is it not lack of faith that leads men to fear the scrutiny of reason? If the destination is doubtful, than the path must be fraught with fear. A robust faith need not fear, for if God exists, then reason cannot help but lead us to Him. Cogito, ergo Deus est,'says St. Augustine, I think, therefore God is.

In a fraction of a moment we fall in love, we break up, we live out a love story that lasts until the end of time. We are soulmates, we are adversaries, we are everything. We are nothing. We are at our fullest potential of every possibility. We are supposed to cross paths for one reason or another. Sometimes we don’t know the reason until it’s far behind us.

Did you wish upon a star and take the time to try to make your wish come true? Did you try to paint the sunrise and find the gift of life within? Did you write a song just for the joy of it? Or write a poem just to feel the pain? Did you find a reason to ignore the petty injustices, the spoken barbs, or the envies, jealousies and greed that crossed your path? Did you wake up this morning and whisper inside, “Today, I’ll find every reason to smile, and ignore the excuses to frown.” Today will be the day I’ll whisper nothing snide, I’ll say nothing cruel. I’ll be kind to my enemy, I’ll embrace my friends, and for this one day, I’ll forget the slights of the past. Today will be the day I’ll live for the joy of it, laugh for the fun of it, and today, I’ll love whether it’s returned, forsaken, or simply ignored. And if you did, then your heart has joined the others who have as well, uniting, strengthening, and in a single heartbeat you’ve created a world of hope.

He sadly resumes his path toward a desert that he knows is similar to the one he just crossed, escorted by the pale phantom they call Reason, who lights up the aridity of his path with a weak lantern, and who, when the thirst of passion comes back from time to time, quenches it with the poison of ennui.

They left a path of pain for whoever ventured near, and Jack and Lexi weren't immune to the catastrophes they created. There was a reason the sin of lust was whirled around for eternity in Dante's Inferno. No matter where they went, they couldn't help but ceaselessly be in a whirlwind always crossing that fine line between love and lust.

I am cross with Christopher,” Beatrix told Amelia in the afternoon, as they strolled arm in arm along the graveled paths behind Ramsay House. “And before I tell you about it, I want to make it clear that there is only one reasonable side of the issue. Mine.” “Oh, bother,” Amelia said sympathetically. “Husbands do make one cross at times. Tell me your side, and I will agree completely.

That's real life. Things don't always work out the way you think they will. They're not so neat and tidy. But people come into your life with a purpose--I see that now. Claire likes to say that people cross your paths for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Astor was a reason. Hayley, though? Hayley is a lifetime.

We cross paths with certain people in our tangled lives for a reason. It's not by chance, not an accident but it's on a purpose. You were made to be part of someone's life for it was written long before you were born."- Elizabeth's Quotes

The path of destiny pulls you forward. It exhumes you from a state of being and propels you towards the juncture you were created for. A new frontier that you are forced to tread with a cross on your back, heavy as a boulder. When you fall to your knees at the hands of your betrayer, you can only hope to find the one sent to carry you burden- shoulder the journey towards your final punishment. Sometimes duplicity and treason are markers of the ememy, and sometimes, the failed intention of a masterful ally. But, nevertheless, as they burden you with a vexing brand of love, they become nothing more than the kisdd of Judas, pressing a crown of thorns into your flesh. Seemingly with out reason- vastly disappointing, Although I am submerged in violent water, I will rise above. My enemies, my friends, are incapable of derailing me from destiny’s design. So, I press forward-move-rely on the hope of the future- create the possible out of the impossible as I weave into life’s grand tapestry. I believe in the things that wait for me- my enemies, my friends- most of all love. It is the finish line I hunger for, the promise of love in all of its glory. I can endure all things in the hold name of love. And I will.

After all relationships had sell-by dates. Sometimes, the ones with the most passion were the ones to burn out faster. Others had a sweet and long-winding coil which burned with slow amicability. At times, it was true, people rekindled a dying ember with a new flame. But they hardly ever noticed the rekindling had come after some time of estrangement - whether physical or emotional. Because people needed newness to make a thing last indefinitely. To make it really last. And because Jan didn't like letting people go, she knew to look for the signs of love's waning. So she could tell how to ease it down slowly into its grave and keep her lovers as friends. Because she really believed people were meant to cross paths. People were meant to stay in your life. There was a reason for all encounters. And relationships had to be cosseted, no matter their shelf life. But they had to be allowed to change shape and form. It had to be given space to grow into something different.

The path of destiny pulls you forward. It exhumes you from a state of being and propels you towards the juncture you were created for. A new frontier that you are forced to tread with a cross on your back, heavy as a boulder. When you fall to your knees at the hands of your betrayer, you can only hope to find the one sent to carry you burden- shoulder the journey towards your final punishment. Sometimes duplicity and treason are markers of the enemy and sometimes, the failed intention of a masterful ally. But, nevertheless, as they burden you with a vexing brand of love, they become nothing more than the kiss of Judas, pressing a crown of thorns into your flesh. Seemingly without reason— vastly disappointing. Although I am submerged in violent water, I will rise above. My enemies, my friends, are incapable of derailing me from destiny’s design. So, I press forward-move-rely on the hope of the future- create the possible out of the impossible as I weave into life’s grand tapestry. I believe in the things that wait for me- my enemies, my friends- most of all love. It is the finish line I hunger for, the promise of love in all of its glory. I can endure all things in the hold name of love. And I will.

We never meet people by chance. They are destined to cross our paths for a reason.

In thousands of years, you’re the first being to cross my path and give me a reason to fight for a different future. I never saw you coming, and I never anticipated you would wreak such havoc on both me and my life. There was no one else who was worthy.

The scout isn’t indifferent. A scout might hope to learn that the path is safe, that the other side is weak, or that there’s a bridge conveniently located where his forces need to cross the river. But above all, he wants to learn what’s really there, not fool himself into drawing a bridge on his map where there isn’t one in real life. Being in scout mindset means wanting your “map”—your perception of yourself and the world—to be as accurate as possible. Of course, all maps are imperfect simplifications of reality, as a scout well knows. Striving for an accurate map means being aware of the limits of your understanding, keeping track of the regions of your map that are especially sketchy or possibly wrong. And it means always being open to changing your mind in response to new information. In scout mindset, there’s no such thing as a “threat” to your beliefs. If you find out you were wrong about something, great—you’ve improved your map, and that can only help you.

All right, now that the weirdness between us has caused actual physical damage, I think it’s time we talked it out, don’t you?” He gave a half smile and then turned back to the path. “We don’t need to be weird,” he said. “These past few days, since the thing with Elodie, I’ve been thinking.” He took a deep breath, and I knew that this was one of those rare occasions when Cal was about to say a lot of words at once. “I like you, Sophie. A lot. For a while, I thought it might be more than that. But you love Cross.” He said it matter-of-factly, but I still caught the way his ears reddened. “I know I’ve said some pretty awful stuff about him, but…I was wrong. He’s a good guy. So, I guess what I’m saying is that as the guy who’s betrothed to you, I wish we could be more than friends.” He stopped, turning around to face me. “But as your friend, I want you to be happy. And if Cross is who you want, then I’m not gonna stand in the way of that.” “I’m the worst fiancé ever, aren’t I?” Cal lifted one shoulder. “Nah. This one warlock I knew, his betrothed set him on fire.” Laughing so I wouldn’t cry, I tentatively lifted my arms to hug him. He folded me against his chest, and there was no awkwardness between us, and I knew the warmth in the pit of my stomach was love. Just a different kind. Sniffling, I pulled back and rubbed at my nose. “Okay, now that the hard part’s over, let’s go tackle the Underworld.” “Got room for two more?” Startled, I turned to see Jenna and Archer standing on the path, Jenna’s hand clutching Archer’s sleeve as she tried to stay on her feet. “What?” was all I could say. Archer took a few careful steps forward. “Hey, this has been a group effort so far. No reason to stop now.” “You guys can’t go into the Underworld with me,” I told them. “You heard Dad, I’m the only one with-“ “With powers strong enough. Yeah, we got that,” Jenna said. “But how are you supposed to carry a whole bunch of demonglass out of that place? It’ll burn you. And hey, maybe your powers will be strong enough to get all of us in, too.” She gestured to herself and the boys. “Plus it’s not like we don’t have powers of our own.” I knew I should tell them to go back. But having the three of them there made me feel a whole lot better and whole lot less terrified. So in the end, I gave an exaggerated sign and said, “Okay, fine. But just so you know, following me into hell means you’re all definitely the sidekicks.” “Darn, I was hoping to be the rakishly charming love interest,” Archer said, taking my hand. “Cal, any role you want?” I asked him, and he looked ruefully at the craggy rock looming over us. As he did, there was the grinding sound of stone against stone. We all stared at the opening that appeared. “I’m just hoping to be the Not Dead Guy,” Cal muttered. We faced the entrance. “Between the four of us, we fought ghouls, survived attacks by demons and L’Occhio di Dio, and practically raised the dead,” I said. “We can do this.” “See, inspiring speeches like that are why you get to be the leader,” Archer said, and he squeezed my hand. And then, moving almost as one, we stepped into the rock.

Theirs is a mismatched partnership, yet they're made for one another. Only together can they be their true selves. Outside in the real world, where they have no control over their environment, they are forced to adapt and perform. They are quiet and unassuming and I expect most people forget who they are soon after crossing paths with them. They get away with what they do by hiding in plain sight and by being ordinary. Nobody sees in them what I see because they have no reason to look Only I notice the hollowness of their eyes.

I believe that people come into our lives for a reason, and that each person we cross paths with has a valuable lesson to share with us. We just need to be open to receive it. Seen this way, we might say that the underlying nature of all relationships is spiritual. This is why the path to becoming self-full is also a spiritual journey toward wholeness, one in which we seek to establish a connection, not only to our inner selves, but to a source of unconditional love and support that’s greater than anything we can put into words.

We had good reason to be anxious, beginning anew without a clue or map, but on our backs in that unnatural whiteness, we lay peaceful as waterfront sunbathers. Our plan was loose and as undefined as the path across a beach—any route seemed possible, all effective in crossing. And a calm energy lit my heart, perceptible in my movements, which seemed slower. Justin switched off the light; momentarily spooked, I wanted to hear his voice. I spoke into dim space: “I bet you’ll do big things here too—” “I never want to work again,” he cut me off, his unexpected decree like stardust in the darkness. For a moment, the blankness of New York’s canvas took on an energetic tone of backstage butterflies.

Senseless people name evil good, call good evil. As you are doing. You accuse Us of passing false judgement: you do Us injustice. We shall prove this to you. You ask who We are: We are God’s handle, Master Death, a truly effective reaper. Our scythe works its way. It cuts down white, black, red, brown, green, blue, grey, yellow, and all kinds of lustrous flowers in its path, irrespective of their splendour, their strength, their virtue. And the violet’s beautiful colour, rich perfume, and palatable sap, avail it nought. See: that is justice. Our justification was acknowledged by the Romans and the poets, for they knew Us better than you do. You ask what We are: We are nothing, and yet something. Nothing, because We have neither life, nor being, nor form, and We are no spirit, not visible, not tangible; something, because We are the end of life, the end of existence, the beginning of nullity, a cross between the two. We are a happening that fells all people. Huge giants must fall before Us; all living beings must be transformed by Us. You ask where We are: We are not ascertainable. But Our form was found in a temple in Rome*, painted on a wall, as a hoodwinked man sitting on an ox; this man wielded a hatchet in his right hand and a shovel in his left hand, with which he was beating the ox. A great crowd of all kinds of people was hitting him, fighting him, and making casts at him, each one with the tools of his trade: even the nun with her psalter was there. They struck and made casts at the man on the ox, he who signified Us; yet Death contested and buried them all. Pythagoras likens Us to a man’s form with the eyes of a basilisk: they wandered to the ends of the Earth, and every living creature had to die at their glance. You ask where We are: We are from the Earthly Paradise. God created Us there and gave Us Our true name, when he said: «The day that ye bite of this fruit, ye shall die the death.» And for that reason We call ourself: «We, Death, mighty ruler and master on Earth, in the air, and in the rivers of the sea.» You ask what good We do: you have already heard that We bring the world more advantage than harm. Now cease, rest content, and thank Us for the kindness we have done you!

Well, she would marry a man who didn't need or want her fortune. Mr. Pinter didn't fall into that category. And given how blank his expression became as his gaze met hers, she'd been right to be skeptical. he would never be interested in her in that way. He confirmed it by saying, with his usual formality, "I doubt any man would consider your ladyship unacceptable as a wife." Oh, when he turned all hoity-toity, she could just murder him. "Then we agree that the gentlemen in question would find me satisfactory," she said, matching his cold tone. "So I don't see why you assume they'd be unfaithful." "Some men are unfaithful no matter how beautiful their wives are," Mr. Pinter growled. He thought her beautiful? There she went again, reading too much into his words. He was only making a point. "But you have no reason to believe that these gentleman would be. Unless there's some dark secret you already know about them that I do not?" Glancing away, he muttered a curse under his breath. "No." "Then here's your chance to find out the truth about their characters. Because I prefer facts to opinions. And I was under the impression that you do, too." Take that, Mr. Pinter! Hoist by your own petard. The man always insisted on sticking to the facts. And he was well aware that she'd caught him out, for he scowled, then crossed his arms over his chest. His rather impressive chest, from what she could tell beneath his black coat and plain buff waistcoat. "I can't believe I'm the only person who would object to these gentlemen," he said. "What about your grandmother? Have you consulted her?" She lifted her eyes heavenward. He was being surprisingly resistant to her plans. "I don't need to. Every time one of them asks to dance with me, she beams. She's forever urging me to smile at them or attempt flirtation. And if they so much as press my hand or take my for a stroll, she quizzes me with great glee on what was said and done." "She's been letting you go out on private strolls with these scoundrels?" Mr. Pinter said in sheer outrage. "They aren't scoundrels." "I swear to God, you're a lamb among the wolves," he muttered. That image of her, so unlike how she saw herself, made her laugh. "I've spent half my life in the company of my brothers. Every time Gabe went to shoot, I went with him. At every house party that involved his friends, I was urged to show off my abilities with a rifle. I think I know how to handle a man, Mr. Pinter." His glittering gaze bored into her. "There's a vast difference between gamboling about in your brother's company with a group of his friends and letting a rakehell like Devonmont or a devilish foreigner like Basto stroll alone with you down some dark garden path." A blush heated her cheeks. "I didn't mean strolls of that sort, sir. I meant daytime walks about our gardens and such, with servants in plain view. All perfectly innocent." He snorted. "I doubt it will stay that way." "Oh, for heaven's sake, why are you being so stubborn? You know I must marry. Why do you even care whom I choose?" "I don't care," he protested. "I'm merely thinking of how much of my time will be wasted investigating suitors I already know are unacceptable." She let out an exasperated breath. Of course. With him, it was always about money. Heaven forbid he should waste his time helping her.

America’s approach to Iran’s nuclear challenge over the past decade has reprised too much of what led up to our two recent ill-fated wars. Exaggerated descriptions of the threat, false assumptions, and overly narrow reasoning have been resounding through the foreign policy punditry’s echo chamber. It is taken for granted that Iran’s nuclear program is a national and global security concern—especially in light of that country’s fairly advanced missile-delivery system—and an existential threat to Israel, an unacceptable strategic game changer that will destabilize the Middle East by eventually placing nuclear material in the hands of terrorists or leading to a regional nuclear arms race and more broadly endangering world peace by fueling nuclear proliferation. In short, Iranian nukes are a red line that must not be crossed. America will “not countenance” Iran getting nuclear weapons, said President Obama as he insisted that an American policy of pressure and coercion would ensure that that would not be the case.4 Bending Iran’s will thus became a key test of U.S. power and effectiveness, in American minds as well as those of friends and foes alike. This approach came with a large downside risk, however, for it committed America to a path of increasing pressure, backed by military threats, to realize what was from the outset an improbable goal.

I’d never been with anyone like Marlboro Man. He was attentive--the polar opposite of aloof--and after my eighteenth-month-long college relationship with my freshman love Collin, whose interest in me had been hampered by his then-unacknowledged sexual orientation, and my four-year run with less-than-affectionate J, attentive was just the drug I needed. Not a day passed that Marlboro Man--my new cowboy love--didn’t call to say he was thinking of me, or he missed me already, or he couldn’t wait to see me again. Oh, the beautiful, unbridled honesty. We loved taking drives together. He knew every inch of the countryside: every fork in the road, every cattle guard, every fence, every acre. Ranchers know the country around them. They know who owns this pasture, who leases that one, whose land this county road passes through, whose cattle are on the road by the lake. It all looked the same to me, but I didn’t care. I’d never been more content to ride in the passenger seat of a crew-cab pickup in all my life. I’d never ridden in a crew-cab pickup in all my life. Never once. In fact, I’d never personally known anyone who’d driven a pickup; the boys from my high school who drove pickups weren’t part of my scene, and in their spare time they were needed at home to contribute to the family business. Either that, or they were cowboy wannabes--the kind that only wore cowboy hats to bars--and that wasn’t really my type either. For whatever reason, pickup trucks and I had never once crossed paths. And now, with all the time I was spending with Marlboro Man, I practically lived in one.

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.

Life within a Templar house was designed where possible to resemble that of a Cistercian monastery. Meals were communal and to be eaten in near silence, while a reading was given from the Bible. The rule accepted that the elaborate sign language monks used to ask for necessities while eating might not be known to Templar recruits, in which case "quietly and privately you should ask for what you need at table, with all humility and submission." Equal rations of food and wine were to be given to each brother and leftovers would be distributed to the poor. The numerous fast days of the Church calendar were to be observed, but allowances would be made for the needs of fighting men: meat was to be served three times a week, on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. Should the schedule of annual fast days interrupt this rhythm, rations would be increased to make up for lost sustenance as soon as the fasting period was over. It was recognized that the Templars were killers. "This armed company of knights may kill the enemies of the cross without stated the rule, neatly summing up the conclusion of centuries of experimental Christian philosophy, which had concluded that slaying humans who happened to be "unbelieving pagans" and "the enemies of the son of the Virgin Mary" was an act worthy of divine praise and not damnation. Otherwise, the Templars were expected to live in pious self-denial. Three horses were permitted to each knight, along with one squire whom "the brother shall not beat." Hunting with hawks—a favorite pastime of warriors throughout Christendom—was forbidden, as was hunting with dogs. only beasts Templars were permitted to kill were the mountain lions of the Holy Land. They were forbidden even to be in the company of hunting men, for the reason that "it is fitting for every religious man to go simply and humbly without laughing or talking too much." Banned, too, was the company of women, which the rule scorned as "a dangerous thing, for by it the old devil has led man from the straight path to paradise the flower of chastity is always [to be] maintained among you.... For this reason none Of you may presume to kiss a woman' be it widow, young girl, mother, sister, aunt or any other.... The Knighthood of Christ should avoid at all costs the embraces of women, by which men have perished many times." Although married men were permitted to join the order, they were not allowed to wear the white cloak and wives were not supposed to join their husbands in Templar houses.

Lottie pressed her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. She had to stop him now, before her will was completely demolished. “No. Please stop. I’m sorry.” His hand slid from her blouse, and he touched her damp lips with his fingers. “Have I frightened you?” he whispered. Lottie shook her head, somehow resisting the urge to curl into his embrace like a sun-warmed cat. “No… I’ve frightened myself.” For some reason her admission made him smile. His fingers moved to her throat, tracing the fragile line with a sensitivity that made her breath catch. Tugging the peasant blouse back up to her shoulder, he retied the frayed ribbon that secured the neckline. “Then I’ll stop,” he said. “Come— I’ll take you to the house.” He stayed close to her as they continued through the forest, occasionally moving to push a branch out of the way, or taking her hand to guide her over a rough place on the path. As familiar as she was with the woods of Stony Cross Park, Lottie had no need of his assistance. But she accepted the help with demur. And she did not protest when he paused again, his lips finding hers easily in the darkness. His mouth was hot and sweet as he kissed her compulsively… swift kisses, languid ones, kisses that ranged from intense need to wicked flirtation. Drugged with pleasure, Lottie let her hands wander to the thick dishevelment of his hair, the iron-hard nape of his neck. When the blistering heat rose to an untenable degree, Lord Sydney groaned softly. “Charlotte…” “Lottie,” she told him breathlessly. He pressed his lips to her temple and cuddled her against his powerful body as if she were infinitely fragile. “I never thought I would find someone like you,” he whispered. “I’ve looked for you so long… needed you…” Lottie shivered and dropped her head to his shoulder. “This isn’t real,” she said faintly. His lips touched her neck, finding a place that made her arch involuntarily. “What’s real, then?” She gestured to the yew hedge that bordered the estate garden. “Everything back there.” His arms tightened, and he spoke in a muffled voice. “Let me come to your room. Just for a little while.” Lottie responded with a trembling laugh, knowing exactly what would happen if she allowed that. “Absolutely not.” Soft, hot kisses drifted over her skin. “You’re safe with me. I would never ask for more than you were willing to give.” Lottie closed her eyes, her head spinning. “The problem is,” she said ruefully, “I am willing to give you entirely too much.” She felt the curve of his smile against her cheek. “Is that a problem?” “Oh, yes.” Pulling away from him, Lottie held her hands to her hot face and sighed unsteadily. “We must stop this. I don’t trust myself with you.” “You shouldn’t,” he agreed hoarsely. -Lottie & Nick

Struggling to lift up his own weight, he staggered down a dirt path. Pain radiated throughout his body, his spirit crushed by insult and mockery. Despite the excruciating affliction he continued to walk, knowing that his destination would led him to even more suffering. Heavy, splintering wood pressed against his back, joining in with gravity to pull this man to the dusty ground. Anguish gripped his heart, yet he walked. Blood dripped from raw wounds, yet he carried on. There was no rescue plan. This man knew that he would experience death, but only after the shock of agony pierced his flesh. Still, he walked on, headed towards the place where he would breathe his last. His motivation was you.   Jesus Christ was sacrificed for you and for all mankind. He endured harsh treatment that led to death on the cross, providing people redemption from sin and the only way to be reconciled to God. He made that walk in humiliation regardless of whether or not anyone accepts Him as Lord and Savior. He didn’t do it because you deserve it or because you earned it. There is only one way He could have endured that immense amount of pain: true, unconditional, selfless love.   Knowing that someone would go through so much for you regardless of how you respond strips away any reason apart from love. The power of that kind of love is transforming. It transforms those who believe in it, drawing them closer to God, thus transforming their character to be more like His.

Bernard and I always believed that most pop music fits into the board category called rock and roll. Rock and roll was ever changing, and this art form had different genres of classification for the benefit of consumers, like sections in a library or bookstore. Once any genre-folk, soul, rock or even some jazz-reaches a certain position on the pop charts, it does what’s known in the music business as crossing over, and gets played on the Top Forty stations. That’s the reason so many of us own songs by artists from genre’s we normally wouldn't-their hit songs crossed over into the pop Top Forty mainstream. When a genre repeatedly crosses over and comes to dominate the Top Forty, what had originated as an insurgency becomes the new ruling class. This was the path disco had taken-from the margins where it started, a weird combination of underground gay culture and funk and gospel-singing techniques and, in the case of Chic, Jazz-inflected groovy soul. But it was basically all rock and roll, historically speaking, as far as we were concerned. But the media and the industry pitted us against the Knack-the disco kings in their buppie uniforms verses the scrappy white boys. But we never saw it that way. We thought we were all on the same team, even if our voices and songs followed different idioms. Boy, were we naïve. And boy, did things change.

February 3 MORNING “Therefore, brethren, we are debtors.” — Romans 8:12 AS God’s creatures, we are all debtors to Him: to obey Him with all our body, and soul, and strength. Having broken His commandments, as we all have, we are debtors to His justice, and we owe to Him a vast amount which we are not able to pay. But of the Christian it can be said that he does not owe God’s justice anything, for Christ has paid the debt His people owed; for this reason the believer owes the more to love. I am a debtor to God’s grace and forgiving mercy; but I am no debtor to His justice, for He will never accuse me of a debt already paid. Christ said, “It is finished!” and by that He meant, that whatever His people owed was wiped away for ever from the book of remembrance. Christ, to the uttermost, has satisfied divine justice; the account is settled; the handwriting is nailed to the cross; the receipt is given, and we are debtors to God’s justice no longer. But then, because we are not debtors to our Lord in that sense, we become ten times more debtors to God than we should have been otherwise. Christian, pause and ponder for a moment. What a debtor thou art to divine sovereignty! How much thou owest to His disinterested love, for He gave His own Son that He might die for thee. Consider how much you owe to His forgiving grace, that after ten thousand affronts He loves you as infinitely as ever. Consider what you owe to His power; how He has raised you from your death in sin; how He has preserved your spiritual life; how He has kept you from falling; and how, though a thousand enemies have beset your path, you have been able to hold on your way. Consider what you owe to His immutability. Though you have changed a thousand times, He has not changed once. Thou art as deep in debt as thou canst be to every attribute of God. To God thou owest thyself, and all thou hast — yield thyself as a living sacrifice, it is but thy reasonable service.

The resources of Heaven are open to us. We should believe this precious truth. And when the enemy comes in like a flood to discourage and to dishearten, the Spirit of the Lord will raise up a standard against him. When sorrows press you, cling closer to the Mighty One. Instead of faltering and losing faith, praise God that Jesus has died for you. A brother came into meeting at one time and related his difficulties, and trials, and sorrows. I said to him, “Brother, haven’t you anything to praise God for? has not Jesus died that you might live? Is there any reason that you should be discouraged?” How does Heaven look upon our doubts and discouragements, when God has given his beloved Son to die on Calvary’s cross, that we might have peace in this life, and everlasting joy in the life to come? How does Heaven regard us when we speak and act as though it were a very difficult path through which God was leading us? How must it seem to the angels when we act as though we doubted whether it would pay to be a Christian? All Heaven was poured out to us in Christ, and he that spared not his own Son will not withhold any good thing from those who walk uprightly.

April 6 MORNING “Let us go forth therefore unto Him without the camp.” — Hebrews 13:13 JESUS, bearing His cross, went forth to suffer without the gate. The Christian’s reason for leaving the camp of the world’s sin and religion is not because he loves to be singular, but because Jesus did so; and the disciple must follow his Master. Christ was “not of the world:” His life and His testimony were a constant protest against conformity with the world. Never was such overflowing affection for men as you find in Him; but still He was separate from sinners. In like manner Christ’s people must “go forth unto Him.” They must take their position “without the camp,” as witness-bearers for the truth. They must be prepared to tread the straight and narrow path. They must have bold, unflinching, lion-like hearts, loving Christ first, and His truth next, and Christ and His truth beyond all the world. Jesus would have His people “go forth without the camp” for their own sanctification. You cannot grow in grace to any high degree while you are conformed to the world. The life of separation may be a path of sorrow, but it is the highway of safety; and though the separated life may cost you many pangs, and make every day a battle, yet it is a happy life after all. No joy can excel that of the soldier of Christ: Jesus reveals Himself so graciously, and gives such sweet refreshment, that the warrior feels more calm and peace in his daily strife than others in their hours of rest. The highway of holiness is the highway of communion. It is thus we shall hope to win the crown if we are enabled by divine grace faithfully to follow Christ “without the camp.” The crown of glory will follow the cross of separation. A moment’s shame will be well recompensed by eternal honour; a little while of witness-bearing will seem nothing when we are “for ever with the Lord.

We are not traveling alone, we cross paths with different people along the way. We may have an individual road to travel, but we cross paths with different people from time to time who would share different roles in our lives. These people may come and go, or even stay for a lifetime, but no matter what, they all came for a reason — to make this journey more meaningful.

I learned firsthand what it meant when the stars made love to the universe. Our lips met for the final time and forever started. By divine powers, by chance, by accident, by fluke, whatever the reason for our paths crossing, Jaq was my forever and I was hers." Oliver Benson

I have met so many wonderful people in this life. And I don't thank God or Jesus enough for all the blessings they have brought to my life, but I want to take my time to thank them, today, because I now realize that everyone's path I am crossing is for a special reason I will forever remember.

In the end, everything happens for a reason. Paths are meant to be crossed for a higher purpose than what we realize at the moment. Life for everyone goes on. This is just a fork in the road that has taken me for a slight detour. Tomorrow I’ll pick up a new map and set my sights on a new direction.

One of the most important reasons to be gentle with ourselves is because if we cannot forgive ourselves, we will struggle to forgive others. And if we cannot forgive ourselves or others, we will resist even God’s forgiveness. When we are gentle with ourselves, when we are patient with ourselves, we develop awareness, and awareness breeds compassion. And every person who ever crosses your path needs a little compassion.

To every soul, you are special. Once in a while, I like to speak to you, yes to you, that which peeps through a twinkle or a tear, that which hears the vision and sees the hymn of the stars, that which resides in the deepest niche of our heart, that which shines through our mind, that which is beyond consciousness yet shaping it with the fine chords of human life. I like to congratulate you, for being there, fuelling that body which often gets tired of walking a long path, through a forest of fire. I like to caress you, for binding that mind and heart that often finds itself in a pit of gusty turbulence, sometimes losing sometimes winning that camouflaged victory of this ocean of illusion. I like to look at you through that eye of prideful faith that which leads one to jump off a cliff only to open those wings of love and light. I like to hear you, from the numb screams marring the dungeons of reality to the polished words that cross your lips each time this world shows up on your doorstep. I like to feel you, with all your vulnerabilities for they are the reason you are here in this voyage of earthly life. I like to speak to you, to every soul, for each of you have a story, a special story that is written by Him, a painting, a special painting that is coloured by Him, for you dear soul, is a flicker of love and light, of Him. So to every soul, you are special.

Let me get this straight. One four-hex to thirty billion, in one year.” “I’ll do it in six months.” Richard said. “You wish to wager?” Roland grinned. “Usual terms?” “Usual. Double the term, or swap now.” Roland tapped the ebony table. “One condition.” “Name it,” Richard snapped. “I get to pick the bum.” It was raining, which was not exactly uncommon for the southern part of Texatron City, and it was nighttime, which occurred roughly once every day. Neon-clad shops lined one half of the main boulevard, while the ramshackle favela perched on the other. Above those precarious dwellings, jutting out of the hillside like challenging chins, luxurious villas that housed the favela’s bosses boasted panoramic glass infinity pools and helipads. Upon the very peak of the great hill, above even those villas, a single, sprawling building sat, lost to the smog-laden rain. Terisco dwelled there, and Terisco was death, plain and simple. Fortunately, there was very little reason for Jayden to ever cross paths with Terisco or any of his lieutenants. He kept his head down. He did his job. He paid his dues. Jayden had a very good chance of living a hard, skinny, but quiet life. That was unless fate meddled, or luck gave him a sharp kick in the

Don’t hesitate to validate your daughter’s experience when she complains to you about another adult. Unless you have reason to believe otherwise, her description is likely accurate; teenagers are particularly clear-eyed and can provide descriptions of adults’ characters that would put a Brontë sister to shame. If your daughter has been lucky enough to spend her childhood surrounded by reasonable grown-ups, she may be confused when a less-than-impressive one first crosses her path. Spare her the trouble of doubting her perceptions while calmly acknowledging that she will need to learn to deal with all sorts of people.

Nothing in life happens by accident. Paths cross for a reason, and for every action there is a reaction.

According to custom, the ashes used to form a small cross on the forehead of the repentant are created from incinerated palm branches from a Palm Sunday service. The hosannas—“Blessed is He who comes in the Name of our Lord”—had turned to cries of “Crucify Him” days later, leading to Jesus’s death on the cross, which culminated in His conquering death and rising to new life. The cross made of ashes is a small symbol with layers of meaning as we follow Him on a forty-day path toward the reason for our hope—Resurrection Sunday. —CYNTHIA RUCHTI

lack of ability to concentrate for periods of time, nightmares more frequently, feelings of depression with or without reason, agitation at the drop of a hat and feel like you are going insane.  Family members who were once close will become total strangers if not mortal enemies.       Most negative hauntings are poltergeist.  It is extremely rare to encounter an actual demon.  There are three ways someone would cross paths with a demon.  One, they are called.  At this point sorry about your luck.  You don't just conjure these guys up and then think you’re going to break up with them when you’re done using them for your personal   gain or satisfaction.  Two, they come with the property.  It could be land, or personal property someone has used in a ceremony.  If a demon is attached to property move, if personal property

I am cross with Christopher,” Beatrix told Amelia in the afternoon, as they strolled arm in arm along the graveled paths behind Ramsay House. “And before I tell you about it, I want to make it clear that there is only one reasonable side of the issue. Mine.” “Oh, bother,” Amelia said sympathetically. “Husbands do make one cross at times. Tell me your side, and I will agree completely.” Beatrix began by explaining about the calling card left by the Colonel Fenwick, and Christopher’s subsequent behavior. Amelia sent Beatrix a wry sideways smile. “I believe these are the problems that Christopher took pains to warn you about.” “That’s true,” Beatrix admitted. “But that doesn’t make it any easier to contend with. I love him madly. But I see how he struggles against certain thoughts that jump into his head, or reflexes that he tries to suppress. And he won’t discuss any of it with me. I’ve won his heart, but it’s like owning a house in which most of the doors are permanently locked. He wants to shield me from all unpleasantness. And it’s not really marriage--not like the marriage you have with Cam--until he’s willing to share the worst of himself as well as the best of himself.” “Men don’t like to put themselves at risk in that way,” Amelia said. “One has to be patient.” Her tone became gently arid, her smile rueful. “But I can assure you, dear…no one is ever able to share only the best of himself.” Beatrix gave her a brooding glance. “No doubt I’ll provoke him into some desperate act before long. I push and pry, and he resists, and I’m afraid that will be the pattern of our marriage for the rest of my life.” Amelia smiled at her fondly. “No marriage stays in the same pattern forever. It is both the best feature of marriage and the worst, that it inevitably changes. Wait for your chance, dear. I promise it will come.

You don’t have to respond to every critic. You don’t have to prove yourself to them. Just stay on the high road and let God fight your battles for you. Some who will cross your path simply don’t want peace with you. No matter what you say or do, they will not be won over. Even if you were to change, they would still find some reason to be critical. You have to accept the fact that no matter what you do, some people will never be at peace with you.

I am one person.” “One person chosen by Queen Elena—one person whose brow burned with a sacred mark on the day of that duel! One person who, despite the odds, is still breathing. Our paths crossed for a reason. If you are not gods-blessed, then who is?” “This is ridiculous. This is folly.” “Folly? Folly to fight for what is right, for people who cannot stand up for themselves? You think soldiers are the worst he can send?” Nehemia’s tone softened. “There are far darker things gathering on the horizon. My dreams have been filled with shadows and wings—the booming of wings soaring between mountain passes. And every scout and spy we send into the White Fang Mountains, into the Ferian Gap, does not come back. Do you know what the people say in the valleys below? They say they can hear wings, too, riding the winds through the Gap.

There are no coincidences in life. Everything happens for a very personal reason. You always attract what you want the most, even when you are not seeing it. And you will never see it until you are prepared to accept it. But the potential to understand yourself and grow both spiritually and mentally, the possibility of finding the answers you have been seeking, the possibility of reaching for your dreams, is equivalent to the perception of another, as well as the emotions you assimilate within a dynamic you can't control. It would be naive to call it love, because real love is found only when paths cross each other, not from the angle of what is observed but rather the angle of desire. And in this situation, to give is to receive; to offer, is to gain; to lose, is to win. When you understand that the mystery of life unfolds itself through the emotions you attract to your life, you will also understand that any limitation, such as distance, location and time, are illusions that will only distract you from a dream that awaits for you in the eyes of someone else. People often fear such experiences, but only because of their past mistakes. The nature of the experience never changes, but fears do lead people to a repetition of cycles.

Almost. "You really need to fix that bumper," he grumbles as he walks away from the table. This is one of the only things he ever says to me when we cross paths, and maybe the reason I never get it fixed is because I know how much it bothers him. Or maybe it's because I think that deep down, "You really need to fix that bumper" is Miles Brodie's version of "As you wish," and what he really means is "I love you." Loring, Kayley. Good Vibrations (The Brodie Brothers Book 3) (pp. 30-31). Kindle Edition.

Sometimes our highest path takes us away from someone we romantically love or think we love, simply because they aren't ready to change paths with us. We need to realize that even if we choose a path that doesn't include them, or that our time together wasn't "the right path." We cross into each other's path for a reason-to teach each other useful lessons and help each other grow. But sometimes, in order to keep growing, we have to venture onto a new, higher path by ourselves. And that is okay. You can love someone and still not be meant to spend your whole life with them.

Orion said I shouldn’t just accept getting bitten any more. If Caleb can’t catch me, he can’t bite me,” I reasoned as my heart rate picked up a notch. “I don’t think this was what he had in mind...” Sofia frowned. “Whatever. Caleb is the most powerful Vampire in Solaria. This is the best chance I’ve got to avoid a bite. And my headstart is going to run out if I don’t go now.” “Class starts in ten minutes,” Darcy said half heartedly. “Cover for me. I’ll be there!” I promised before turning and running for the exit. I glanced back at the red couch in the centre of the room just before I ducked outside and found all four Heirs looking my way. Caleb was saying something to the others with a smile playing around his lips. Max and Seth seemed mildly interested but Darius looked pretty damn pissed. As his heated gaze met with mine, my heart leapt a little at the anger I found there. I hadn’t spoken to him properly since we’d fought together against the Nymphs and I really wasn’t sure what I’d have to say anyway. In the moment, we’d been weirdly united. I’d saved his life and he’d saved mine. I’d even cried while he lay dying in my arms. But then Orion had appeared and healed him and the momentary insanity which had come over me, making me think I cared about him had gone in an instant. I only had to remember the way he’d tossed me into that pit to know all I needed to about him and who he was. And he was my enemy. The look he was giving me right then said he felt exactly the same. I ducked out of The Orb and looked around quickly, wondering where the best place to hide would be. I didn’t have many options and I didn’t really have a good headstart either so I crossed the path and headed straight into Venus Library. The librarian wasn’t at her desk as I entered and I hurriedly shot down the closest aisle, racing between texts on Fae biology before swinging left at the end. ... “Got ya.” Before I could respond, Caleb shot forward, lifting me into his arms and propelling me through the library with his Vampire speed until we ended up inside one of the private study rooms at the back of the building. I gasped in surprise as he kicked the door shut behind us and pushed me back against the wall before sinking his teeth into my neck. His grip on my waist tightened to the point of discomfort and I tried to push him back a step but he held on tight, releasing a growl. “Ow,” I protested irritably and he finally released me with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I’ve been running on empty since the fight with the Nymphs and I don’t wanna bite anyone else.” “Orion thinks I should be putting more effort into fighting you off,” I said, touching the tender skin where his teeth had pierced my skin. “I’m thinking he has a point.” Caleb stepped forward slowly, reaching out for me and I let him. His fingers brushed against my neck and his magic slid through the wound as he healed it. He stayed there, his hand on my skin as he held my eye. (tory)

Another reason I wanted to write this book is that many young men today - especially young Christian men - are looking at the present state of our nation with disgust. They see what’s become of Western civilization and its “elected” officials, getting fat and wealthy off the backs of those who work, and who do absolutely nothing to stop its decline. The more cynical among us perceive that the decline they fail to stop may be, in fact, their intention. Feeling powerless and isolated, many men begin to look deeper into past political movements and eventually realize that even if Fascists weren’t always very nice, at least they didn’t tolerate Drag Queen Story Hour. It’s an understandable journey - perhaps even an inevitable one. I believe those on that path should be treated with empathy and grace, acknowledging why they feel the way they do and not - as is almost universally common - dismissing them entirely or accusing them of holding beliefs they don’t.

This view of Alexander is much too simplistic. He was a man of his own violent times, no better or worse in his actions than Caesar or Hannibal. He killed tens of thousands of civilians in his campaigns and spread terror in his wake, but so did every other general in the ancient world. If he were alive today, he would undoubtedly be condemned as a war criminal—but he did not live in our age. Like the heroes of Thomas Love Peacock’s marvelous satirical poem “The War Song of Dinas Vawr,” Alexander conquered much of the ancient world simply because he could: The mountain sheep are sweeter, But the valley sheep are fatter; We therefore deemed it meeter To carry off the latter. We made an expedition; We met a host, and quelled it; We forced a strong position, And killed the men who held it. Alexander himself would not have disputed such reasoning nor would those who fell beneath his sword. If the Great King Darius could have crossed the Hellespont and slaughtered every Macedonian in his path to add their land to his empire, he would have done so without remorse.

Her blue eyes were lovely, but her true eyes were so stunning when unmasked. Since crossing paths again, Tiris longed to see them like the night they first met. For whatever reason, she hid her true self from the world, and he would respect that until she was ready. After all, he had a fairly sizeable disguise of his own.

About Kindness, This is just so much for my Soul, and to each one of you, beautiful Flickers of Light and Love. On this Amazing Day of Christmas, I want to send you all a bunch of Happiness and a heartful of My Prayers but above all a Truth that I feel I had the privilege of knowing long back, when I fell in love with God Almighty. The truth is Simple, Kindness is all that Matters. And by Kindness I don't mean the Kindness that looks differently on another but the One that comes with Empathy, the One that flows through Compassion, the One that roots in Love. We just have to understand that everyone is a beautiful person at heart, and no matter how a person behaves or how someone treats you, we just have to stay Kind and know that Somewhere out there Everything we do, has ripples, so let us create ripples in Kindness, in Grace, in Forgiveness, above all in Love. It is very very difficult to forgive a person who hurts us, but when you embody Kindness and practice Grace as an everyday habit, you soon understand how easy it becomes to forgive, because then you look at the Soul who hurt you as a Soul who is trapped in a blockchain of Karma, you understand that you need to release that Soul from your Karmic Cycle by forgiving and leaving it to God, and actually praying for the well-being of that Soul. Every Single Time, you cross path with a Stranger, wear a Smile, it doesn't matter if it is reciprocated or not, just know maybe you just infected a Soul with your Smile, after all like Pain, Happiness is Contagious. Let your Energy be that of Happiness, of Sunshine, you never know who needs your Soul's Rainbow in a drought of rain. Every time you find some way to do good, don't even think about it, just do it. Especially when you know that it cannot benefit you, because then you know in your Heart you did something just for Him. And that Feeling is beyond any achievement or success, because honestly nothing on Earth is as beautiful as the feeling of Kindness, of knowing that Every Single Day you wake up in this Earth to wear Kindness, that you have a reason to Exist, and that reason is to sprinkle Grace all around, to let every Soul you cross path with feel how Special they are, to Let the World know that Love is alive, that Kindness is the most beautiful prayer of God, the most amazing privilege granted to us. And so I pray to God, today and always, May the Spirit of Christmas be always the most Alive in the Act of Kindness, in the Very breath that we take, for Kindness is about Love and Love is the Root of this Universe in All Ways, Always. Love & Light, always - Debatrayee

An uninvited guest who makes appearances at public occasions with no warning. An unconditioned reflex that cannot obey the dictates of common sense or reason. A reflex that commits an act of betrayal just when one is about to excuse oneself from a populated room. A breaking wind that sometimes chooses the path of silence, at other times loudness. If one is born under lucky stars, one might make it to open spaces with no company just in time to expel the intestinal gas with an unpleasant odour. If star-crossed, a cough or a slight movement or even miscalculations in time to reach the door could cased the wind to explode in a way that compels those in the vicinity to shield their nostrils or turn their head sideways for fresh air in disgust. Farts are mortifying!

For some reason, our paths had crossed. At that intersection, I had been the instrument through which an opportunity had been handed to them. What they made of it was their responsibility. Whether they squandered it or exchanged it for a better life had nothing to do with me and everything to do with them.

In thousands of years, you’re the first being to cross my path and give me a reason to fight for a different future. I never saw you coming, and I never anticipated you would wreak such havoc on both me and my life. There was no one else who was worthy.” He thought I was worthy. The mess of a shifter with no pack and a true mate who’d rejected her. “But you have a true mate,” I breathed, knowing I might fuck up everything with this line of conversation, but apparently, my deadass was gonna go there. Shadow’s face was awash in secrets, and as he leaned over, his mouth tasting the tender spot beneath my ear, he murmured, “Her face is a blur, and I have a fantastic memory for almost everything else in this world. Out of duty, I never kissed a single being in the time I was exiled from my world, but then you exploded into my life. Full of sass and fucking questions, with hair of a sunset, and a temper to equal my own. The gods themselves couldn’t have stopped me from claiming you.

What I didn’t feel was what surprised me the most. I’d always looked at Clara and thought her too good for me, too benevolent to entangle herself with someone as fucked up as I was. But the truth was different. We matched. We fit together so completely that I knew the Goddess or Creator, or whoever the hell dabbled in our fates, had put her on my path for a reason. When I met her, I had been in a state of denial that I’d ever be able to have a normal relationship with a woman. I was convinced I’d been cursed by the world, cast out because I’d rejected my magic, the gift I was given. So I’d been content watching her from afar, marveling at her beauty and unwavering kindness. Until I wasn’t. Until she bestowed that kindness on me. Little by little, my heart opened and my soul began to believe that maybe, just maybe, it could come out of its own cage. Just knowing her, talking to her briefly on the street or being invited to their family gatherings—something I wasn’t ready for—slowly eroded away the shell of cynicism and defensiveness I wore wherever I went.

Everything happens for a reason, whether it’s something you’re excited about or not. It’s all for a purpose in the big picture. Enjoy the process knowing it will be used to make you stronger in the long run. Sometimes certain events are necessary in order for a grander opportunity to cross our paths.

The defenders knew that some clients, and their acts, were despicable, but it was still their responsibility to defend them. They could accept the accused’s story, or, once in a great while, believe it. Believing in a client was a luxury to be relished when it crossed one’s path.   Defendants intuitively sensed this. A public defender faced the two-pronged reasoning of the guilty client charged with a heinous crime: First, the accused did not think his appointed lawyer could defend him without believing him innocent, so he lied. Second, the accused believed that if his lawyer thought he had committed horrible deeds, he would never act to get him off, so he lied.   From this jailhouse logic came the public defender’s creed: “A client is someone who lies to his lawyer, and tells the truth to everyone else.

We all draw different lines. Sometimes they intersect. Sometimes they don’t. We agree on forms of evil, but judge degrees of it, saying only the worst of humanity is truly bad. And everything along the gray lines is subject to opinion. These are the lines I constantly live on, crossing through intersections that lead down paths I barely remember. And at certain times, for unknown reasons, the grim reality of consequence decides to rear its ugly head at me, and forces me to see what I’ve done. And I find myself staring at… THE DEVIL.

Uncle Damian crossed his arms and gave me a stern, unyielding, wholly unsympathetic look. For some odd reason, it made me feel immensely better. “Buck up, woman! You just took a hard left to the gut, but I trained you better than this.” “I’m pregnant,” I said, sniffling as I wiped up the last of my messy tears. “I’m allowed to be emotional.” “You’re not allowed to be an idiot, and that’s the path you’re heading down if you don’t stop right now. I trained you to be a smart, savvy woman who could handle herself in any situation. Now let’s see the last of this pitiful creature, and more of the Aisling I know you can be.” He was right. I straightened my shoulders, lifting my chin as I sniffled my last sniffle. Drake wasn’t excluding me because he wanted to—he’d always been proud of me as his mate, demanding I be at his side for everything. I was just giving in to my hormones, and that wasn’t going to help anyone. If I wanted things to change, I’d have to see to it myself. “You’re absolutely right. Dammit, I am a Guardian. I am a wyvern’s mate—we won’t go into whose right now because that’s all screwed up—but I am still a wyvern’s mate, and that’s important.” Righteous indignation filled me, but it was a cleansing, energizing emotion. “That’s better,” Uncle Damian nodded as I stormed over to the window and flung back the curtain. “And I am a demon lord, one of the seven princes of Abaddon!” I yelled, spinning around to face him, shaking my fist to the ceiling. “As god is my witness, I’ll never go hungry again!” “Eh…” Uncle Damian pursed his lips. “Sorry. Got carried away with the moment. Jim, Traci! I summon thee!” Both demons appeared before me just as Rene cracked open the door and peered in. “Is everything all right? We heard yelling.” “Come in and join the fun,” I said as he slowly came into the room, Nora on his heels. “Everything’s crap right now, but it’s about to get a whole lot better

Pay attention to every person who crosses your path today. They are there for a reason.

Love is like a drug that can either kill you, weaken you or make you stronger. Like a poison that finds it way through you body with each kiss, each touch and each look. It makes you feel euphoric. Makes you feel like you can take on anything that comes on your path. Whether it walks behind, in front or beside you. No mountain is high enough, no ocean deep enough and the sky had no limit. It can make you feel weak. Make you question everything around except the person who the love is for. But it can also destroy you in a way you never would have imagined was even possible. It hurts like a thousand knives twisting against your spine, paralyzing you. It can make you feel like the world just caved in around you, beneath you. You ask yourself if this is all worth it. Worth the euphoric feeling of someone loving you. Worth everything. I can tell you that in the end, it is. Because now you may feel destroyed, but keep in mind that a feeling is something that can be changed. There is someone who will build you up. Who will climb the highest mountain or cross the deepest oceans. Who makes you feel alive all for the right reasons. Someone who will not sugar coat his intentions. Who will not say he's someone he actually is not. Someone who wants you in his life. Who shows you off like a show pony to show everyone how proud he/she is to have you in his/her life. The feeling of destruction will fade when you meet someone who is willing to build you up. Who doesn't care how deep your roots have rooted itself into the earth to keep yourself grounded. Who will find every last stone to make sure your as strong as ever when everything else came crumbling down.

However, brutal programs are avidly absorbed by children who have never been allowed to defend themselves against overt or subtle tormenting at home or who, for other reasons, can never articulate their feelings—for example, to spare a threatened parent. So they can satisfy their secret longings for revenge by identifying with what they see on TV. These children already carry within them the seeds of future destructiveness. Whether or not this destructiveness will erupt depends largely on whether life offers them more than violence: in other words, whether witnesses willing to rescue them cross their path. What is important to understand is that the child learns cruelty not by watching TV but always by suffering and repressing.

Dearest Almighty God, I don't know where he is, I don't know who he is, I don't know if I have ever met him, or if we have crossed paths, I don't even know if he exists, but what I do know is that You won't let my Heart be a Void. What I know is when You put a dream in Someone's Heart You don't let that disappear just like that, You have your reason to even let that dream shape in, and mine has always been the most simplest and the most humblest of all. It doesn't matter how archaic or regressive it seems I would always imagine the most beautiful of all pathways is the route where two hearts connect and grow old together, when two souls find a Home together and that would always be my dearest prayer, and so I know that You know how that Prayer churns my Soul. I pray before You to give me Hope, to give me the heart to wait in Patience as You work on him and send him to my path in Your way for in You I trust blindly. I pray that You bless all lone hearts and give them courage and wisdom to learn the true meaning of Togetherness, to understand the true meaning of Companionship and above all the sanctity of Home, where children are born of Love, where hearts are united in Trust and Respect, so yes I pray with all my Heart that wherever he is, whoever he is, You bless him with my aura and make him grow in ways that only You can, that You paint his dreams and bless them in Your colour of Hope and Success, that You hold his hand and let him win in life in ways that You alone can. I know I would know my deepest Happiness in his smile, for I know whoever he is, wherever he is, his soul and mine are one, and soon in Your Timing, You will find Him in my Life, for Our Home would be Your Smile of Love. Until then, I will stay in Faith, praying for Him every single moment in my Heart and Soul. - an Old Soul trusting in God, always.

is it not lack of faith that leads men to fear the scrutiny of reason? If the destination is doubtful, then the path must be fraught with fear.