Patience Strong Quotes

May I see you again?" he asked. There was an endearing nervousness in his voice. I smiled. "Sure." "Tomorrow?" he asked. "Patience, grasshopper," I counseled. "You don't want to seem overeager. "Right, that's why I said tomorrow," he said. "I want to see you again tonight. But I'm willing to wait all night and much of tomorrow." I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious," he said. "You don't even know me," I said. I grabbed the book from the center console. "How about I call you when I finish this?" "But you don't even have my phone number," he said. "I strongly suspect you wrote it in this book." He broke out into that goofy smile. "And you say we don't know each other.

Karma is the beginning of knowledge. Next is patience. Patience is very important. The strong are the patient ones, Anjin-san. patience means holding back your inclination to the seven emotions: hate, adoration, joy, anxiety, anger, grief, fear. If you don't give way to the seven, you're patient, then you'll soon understand all manner of things and be in harmony with Eternity.

We've lost a lot of years, but you can't lose love. Not real love. It stays locked inside you, ready for whenever you are strong enough to find it again.

The funny thing about the heart is a soft heart is a strong heart, and a hard heart is a weak heart.

We love being mentally strong, but we hate situations that allow us to put our mental strength to good use.

You don’t need princes to save you. I don’t have a lot of patience for stories in which women are rescued by men.

Take a chance and risk it all or play it safe and suffer defeat.

LOVE is made up of a strong affection and patience whiles LUST is made up of a strong affection and impatience. Affection is common to them, but patience is not common.

Diplomacy was never my strong suit and my patience had run dry. I crouched and called out, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." [...] "Kitty, kitty?" asked a level male voice.[...] "What kind of woman greets the Beast Lord with 'here, kitty, kitty'?" he asked. "One of a kind". I murmered the obvious reply.

You're going to make it; You're going to be at peace; You're going to create, and love, and laugh, and live; You're going to do great things.

Landscape Isn't it plain the sheets of moss, except that they have no tongues, could lecture all day if they wanted about spiritual patience? Isn't it clear the black oaks along the path are standing as though they were the most fragile of flowers? Every morning I walk like this around the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart ever close, I am as good as dead. Every morning, so far, I'm alive. And now the crows break off from the rest of the darkness and burst up into the sky—as though all night they had thought of what they would like their lives to be, and imagined their strong, thick wings.

The hardest thing about "everything happens for a reason" is waiting for that reason to show up.

{Mrs. March to Jo} You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love.

Bread – like real love – took time, cultivation, strong loving hands and patience. It lived, rising and growing to fruition only under the most perfect circumstances.

Patience means restraining yourself. There are seven emotions, Joy, anger, anxiety, adoration, grief, fear, and hate. If a man doesn't give way to these, he's patient. I'm not as strong as I might be but I'm patient.

I will simply express my strong belief, that that point of self-education which consists in teaching the mind to resist its desires and inclinations, until they are proved to be right, is the most important of all, not only in things of natural philosophy, but in every department of daily life.

Some broken things you can't mend. Some you have to put together very slowly piece by fragile piece, waiting until the last bit of work is strong enough before you try the next. It takes a lot of patience.

Keep strong, if possible. In any case, keep cool. Have unlimited patience. Never corner an opponent, and always assist him to save face. Put yourself in his shoes—so as to see things through his eyes. Avoid self-righteousness like the devil—nothing is so self-blinding.

Compassion makes you strong, caring and creative. It creates a different attitude, a level of maturity and understanding, where you do something which makes you stand out of crowd.

What, unless biological science is a mass of errors, is the cause of human intelligence and vigour? Hardship and freedom: conditions under which the active, strong, and subtle survive and the weaker go to the wall; conditions that put a premium upon the loyal alliance of capable men, upon self-restraint, patience, and decision. And the institution of the family, and the emotions that arise therein, the fierce jealousy, the tenderness for offspring, parental self-devotion, all found their justification and support in the imminent dangers of the young.

Patience has never been my strong suit. I’m not exactly keen on waiting for anything. Nor am I good at planning, for that matter. I’m the shoot first, ask questions never type... you know, the kind to toss a grenade in a packed room to solve a personal problem?

The strong manly ones in life are those who understand the meaning of the word patience. Patience means restraining one's inclinations. There are seven emotions: joy, anger, anxiety, adoration, grief, fear, and hate, and if a man does not give way to these he can be called patient. I am not as strong as I might be, but I have long known and practiced patience. And if my descendants wish to be as I am, they must study patience.

Hazel Grace,” he said, my name new and better in his voice. “It has been a real pleasure to make your acquaintance.” “Ditto, Mr. Waters,” I said. I felt shy looking at him. I could not match the intensity of his waterblue eyes. “May I see you again?” he asked. There was an endearing nervousness in his voice. I smiled. “Sure.” “Tomorrow?” he asked. “Patience, grasshopper,” I counseled. “You don’t want to seem overeager.” “Right, that’s why I said tomorrow,” he said. “I want to see you again tonight. But I’m willing to wait all night and much of tomorrow.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m serious,” he said. “You don’t even know me,” I said. I grabbed the book from the center console. “How about I call you when I finish this?” “But you don’t even have my phone number,” he said. “I strongly suspect you wrote it in the book.” He broke out into that goofy smile. “And you say we don’t know each other.

Grass that is here today and gone tomorrow does not require much time to mature. A giant oak tree that lasts for generations requires much more time to grow strong.

Patience, persistence and perspiration make an unbeatable combination for success. —NAPOLEON HILL

Keep strong, if possible. In any case, keep cool. Have unlimited patience. Never corner an opponent, and always assist him to save his face. Put yourself in his shoes—so as to see things through his eyes. Avoid self-righteousness like the devil—nothing is so self-blinding.

Patience is an ever present alternative to the mind's endemic restlessness and impatience. Scratch the surface of impatience and what you will find lying beneath it, subtly or not so subtly, is anger. It's the strong energy of not wanting things to be the way they are and blaming someone (often yourself) or something for it. This doesn't mean you can't hurry when you have to. It is possible even to hurry patiently, mindfully, moving fast because you have chosen to.

I pray thee, cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless As water in a sieve: give not me counsel; Nor let no comforter delight mine ear But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine: ... for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words. No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.

You are the shoal upon which I have shipwrecked my life...

Excellence does not come easily or quickly-- an excellent education does not, a successful mission does not, a strong, loving marriage does not, rewarding personal relationships do not. It is simply a truism that nothing very valuable can come without significant sacrifice, effort, and patience on our part.

  Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection!   Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.   Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike,   Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven!

Strong people don't put others down. They lift them up and slam them on the ground for maximum damage.

I’d show him. I was strong, and I wouldn’t beg for anything. I’d get out of here and live and keep my damn chin up. The calm in the madness. The quiet in the chaos. The patience for my moment.

All people of broad, strong sense have an instinctive repugnance to the men of maxims; because such people early discern that the mysterious complexity of our life is not to be embraced by maxims, and that to lace ourselves up in formulas of that sort is to repress all the divine promptings and inspirations that spring from growing insight and sympathy. And the man of maxims is the popular representative of the minds that are guided in their moral judgment solely by general rules, thinking that these will lead them to justice by a ready-made patent method, without the trouble of exerting patience, discrimination, impartiality, without any care to assure themselves whether they have the insight that comes from a hardly-earned estimate of temptation, or from a life vivid and intense enough to have created a wide fellow-feeling with all that is human.

The spiritual path is very, very easy for a man of determination, patience, endurance, self-sacrifice, dispassion and a strong will.

Stay strong in spirit, be patient and you will overcome any situation.

Morning sunrise wakes me up with rays of hope. Clouds of fear can hide the sun but not for long. If rays of hope are strong and patience is a song, then hope will bloom and rain will bring a rainbow.

Excellence does not come easy for quickly- An Excellent education does not, a successful mission does not, a strong, loving marriage does not, rewarding personal relationships do not. It is simply a truism that nothing very valuable can come without significant sacrifice, effort, and patience on our part.

Start today creating a vision for yourself, your life, and your career. Bounce back from adversity and create what you want, rebuild and rebrand. Tell yourself it's possible along the way, have patience, and maintain peace with yourself during the process.

I watched her dance, arms curving like wings, her strong young legs in love with their motion. This was how mortals found fame, I thought. Through patience and diligence, tending their skills like gardens until they glowed beneath the sun. But gods are born of ichor and nectar, their excellences already bursting from their fingertips. So they find their fame by proving what they can mar: destroying cities, starting wars, breeding plagues and monsters. All that smoke and savor rising so delicately from our altars. It leaves only ash behind.

The bond between husband and wife is a strong one. Suppose the man had hunted her out and brought her back. The memory of her acts would still be there, and inevitably, sooner or later, it would be cause for rancor. When there are crises, incidents, a woman should try to overlook them, for better or for worse, and make the bond into something durable. The wounds will remain, with the woman and with the man, when there are crises such as I have described. It is very foolish for a woman to let a little dalliance upset her so much that she shows her resentment openly. He has his adventures--but if he has fond memories of their early days together, his and hers, she may be sure that she matters. A commotion means the end of everything. She should be quiet and generous, and when something comes up that quite properly arouses her resentment she should make it known by delicate hints. The man will feel guilty and with tactful guidance he will mend his ways. Too much lenience can make a woman seem charmingly docile and trusting, but it can also make her seem somewhat wanting in substance. We have had instances enough of boats abandoned to the winds and waves. It may be difficult when someone you are especially fond of, someone beautiful and charming, has been guilty of an indiscretion, but magnanimity produces wonders. They may not always work, but generosity and reasonableness and patience do on the whole seem best.

In every crisis, the true heroism is self-discipline, patience and strong determination.

Three things differentiate living from the soul versus living from ego only. They are: the ability to sense and learn new ways, the tenacity to ride a rough road, and the patience to deepen love over time. The ego, however, has a penchant and proclivity to avoid learning. Patience is not the ego's strong suit. Enduring in relationship is not Raven's forte. So it is not from the ever-changing ego that we love another, but rather from the wild soul.

Especially when we are afraid, angry, or confused, we may be tempted to give away bits of our freedom—or, less painfully, somebody else’s freedom—in the quest for direction and order. Bill Clinton observed that when people are uncertain, they’d rather have leaders who are strong and wrong than right and weak. Throughout history, demagogues have often outperformed democrats in generating popular fervor, and it is almost always because they are perceived to be more decisive and sure in their judgments. In times of relative tranquility, we feel we can afford to be patient. We understand that policy questions are complicated and merit careful thought. We want our leaders to consult experts, gather as much information as possible, test assumptions, and give us a chance to voice our opinions on the available options. We see long-term planning as necessary and deliberation as a virtue, but when we decide that action is urgently needed, our tolerance for delay disappears. In those moments, many of us no longer want to be asked, “What do you think?” We want to be told where to march. That is when Fascism gets its start: other options don’t seem enough.

There are seven incarnations (and six correlates) necessary to becoming an Artist: 1. Explorer (Courage) 2. Surveyor (Vision) 3. Miner (Strength) 4. Refiner (Patience) 5. Designer (Intelligence) 6. Maker (Experience) 7. Artist. First, you must leave the safety of your home and go into the dangers of the world, whether to an actual territory or some unexamined aspect of the psyche. This is what is meant by 'Explorer.' Next, you must have the vision to recognize your destination once you arrive there. Note that a destination may sometimes also be the journey. This is what is meant by 'Surveyor.' Third, you must be strong enough to dig up the facts, follow veins of history, unearth telling details. This is what is meant by 'Miner.' Fourth, you must have the patience to winnow and process your material into something rare. This may take months or even years. And this is what is meant by 'Refiner.' Fifth, you must use your intellect to conceive of your material as something meaning more than its origins. This is what is meant by 'Designer.' Six, you must fashion a work independent of everything that has gone before it including yourself. This is accomplished though experience and is what is meant by 'Maker.' At this stage, the work is acceptable. You will be fortunate to have progressed so far. It is unlikely, however, that you will go any farther. Most do not. But let us assume you are exceptional. Let us assume you are rare. What then does it mean to reach the final incarnation? Only this: at every stage, from 1 thru 6, you will risk more, see more, gather more, process more, fashion more, consider more, love more, suffer more, imagine more and in the end know why less means more and leave what doesn't and keep what implies and create what matters. This is what is meant by 'Artist.

Nevertheless, it ought not to be concluded from the above that Hufflepuffs are dimwits or duffers, though they have been cruelly caricatured that way on occasion. Several outstanding brains have emerged from Hufflepuff House over the centuries; these fine minds simply happened to be allied to outstanding qualities of patience, a strong work ethic and constancy, all traditional hallmarks of Hufflepuff Houses.

I believe that life is all about perception and timing. That good things come to those who act and that life’s about more than collecting a paycheck. I believe that the only person you’re destined to become is the one that you decide to be. That if you try hard enough you can convince yourself of anything. That having patience doesn’t make you a hero nor does it make you a doormat. I believe that not showing love proves you’re weak and belittling others doesn’t make you strong. That you are never as far away from people as the miles may suggest. That life’s too short to read awful books, listen to terrible music, or be around uninspiring people. I believe that where you start has little impact on where you finish. That sometimes the best thing you can do is walk away. That you can never be overdressed or overeducated. I believe that the cure for anything is salt water; sweat, tears, or the sea. That you should never let your memories be greater than your dreams. And that you should always choose adventure.

More important and more relevant to the death of expertise, however, is that conspiracy theories are deeply attractive to people who have a hard time making sense of a complicated world and who have no patience for less dramatic explanations. Such theories also appeal to a strong streak of narcissism: there are people who would choose to believe in complicated nonsense rather than accept that their own circumstances are incomprehensible, the result of issues beyond their intellectual capacity to understand, or even their own fault.

You won't be strong until you have the patience to carry out your sadness alone

Nothing protects the heart like patience. Don’t get your hopes up too fast. Don’t let your fears speak too loud. Don’t give your doubts too much time. Not everybody is built to handle the rough times. Can’t be surprised when you fall off with certain people. Few people understand what it means to really be there for somebody. And that’s the roughest part about being on a journey, You realize the main ones that said they’ll ride, are the first to fall off. People make promises when the sun is shining and make excuses when the storm comes. That’s why I’m always thankful for the rain… it washes away the unnecessary. The reality is, you could be amazing, genuine, and sincere but still be overlooked. Because honestly, people don’t want something real anymore, they just want reasons to complain and excuses to avoid. Having a good thing is so hard because meeting a strong person is so rare. So I’ve learned to respect when people run from me, I realize my kind of love ain’t for everybody. I’m at peace with that.

These struggles with the natural character, the strong native bent of the heart, may seem futile and fruitless, but in the end they do good. They tend, however slightly, to give the actions, the conduct, that turn which Reason approves, and which Feeling, perhaps too often opposes: they certainly make a difference in the general tenor of a life, and enable it to be better regulated, more equable, quieter on the surface; and it is on the surface only the common gaze will fall. As to what lies below, leave that with God. Man, your equal, weak as you, and not fit to be your judge, may be shut out thence: take it to your Maker--show Him the secrets of the spirit He gave--ask Him how you are to bear the pains He has appointed--kneel in His presence, and pray with faith for light in darkness, for strength in piteous weakness, for patience in extreme need. Certainly, at some hour, though perhaps not at your hour, the waiting hours will stir; in some shape, though perhaps not the shape you dreamed, which your heart loved, and for which it bled, the healing herald will descend.

Do not be so ridiculous, I can more easily find you someone else.” Gripping the bars of his prison so strongly that the bones of his knuckles showed prominently through his pale skin, the monster growled again, “I will have no other.” Nearing the end of his patience, Klaus demanded, “Why? Why are you being so impossible?” Turning to the diminutive creature beneath the blanket, he smiled nastily, his light red eyes gleaming, “Because he wants her.

Whenever you suffer misfortune or illness, think "This repays my karmic debts from former lifetimes and purifies my negative karma!" No matter what happiness you have, regard it as the kindness of the Three Jewels and arouse the strong yearning of devoted gratitude! When you meet with enmity and hatred, think "This is a good friend helping me to cultivate patience!" Think, "This helper for patience is a messenger sent by the victorious ones!" (p. 105)

Most of my time is spent in doing as well as I can the work immediatekt at hand. One hopes that by doing quietly and with parade as solid work as one can when one is occupied, on makes the best contribution possible to one's state.

Because, dear, I don't think you suited to one another. As friends you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over, but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love.

Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. “Most of my time is spent in doing as well as I can the work immediately at hand. One hopes that by doing quietly and without parade as solid work as one can when one is occupied, one makes the best contribution possible to one's state.

Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment; That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection! Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike. Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven!

[The critic] serves up his erudition in strong doses; he pours out all the knowledge he got up the day before in some library or other, and treats in heathenish fashion people at whose feet he ought to sit, and the most ignorant of whom could give points to much wiser men than he. Authors bear this sort of thing with a magnanimity and a patience that are really incomprehensible. For, after all, who are those critics, who with their trenchant tone, their dicta, might be supposed sons of the gods? They are simply fellows who were at college with us, and who have turned their studies to less account, since they have not produced anything, and can do no more than soil and spoil the works of others, like true stymphalid vampires.

I strongly believe that our bodies give back to us whatever resonates with the thoughts we are thinking about it. If you truly love your body, are grateful and appreciative of the things it CAN do for you, and what it does for you every day without even having to ask, you will change your life.

You have a backbone of steel. You went through months of hell looking after a small child, a dying husband and an entire household, with unholy patience. You missed meals and went without sleep, but you never forgot to read Justin a bedtime story and tuck him in at night. When you let yourself cry and fall apart, it was only in private, for a few minutes, and then you washed your face, put your broken heart back together, and went out with a cheerful expression and a half-dozen handkerchiefs in your pockets. And you did all of it while feeling queasy most of the time because you were expecting another child. You never failed the people who needed you. You're not going to fail them now." Shocked down to her soul, Phoebe could only manage a whisper. "Who told you all that?" "No one." The smile at the corners of his eyes deepened. "Phoebe... anyone who knows you, even a little, would know these things about you.

As friends, you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over, but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike, and to fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love.

The border between the State of Israel and the occupied Gaza Strip had always reminded him of the line between Tijuana and greater San Diego. There, too, ragged men the color of earth waited with the mystical patience of the very poor on the pleasure of crisply uniformed, well-nourished officials. Some months before, Lucas had come down for the dawn shape-up at the checkpoint, and he had not forgotten the drawn faces in the half-light, the terrible smiles of the weak, straining to make themselves agreeable to the strong.

The problem is that doctors today often assume that something mysterious and unidentified has gone wrong with labor or that the woman's body is somehow "inadequate" - what I call the "woman's body as a lemon" assumption. For a variety of reasons, a lot of women have also come to believe that nature made a serious mistake with their bodies. This belief has become so strong in many that they give in to pharmaceutical or surgical treatments when patience and recognition of the normality and harmlessness of the situation would make for better health for them and their babies and less surgery and technological intervention in birth. Most women need encouragement and companionship more than they need drugs.

One of the salaf said: “Believers and unbelievers alike may have patience at a time of adversity, but only people of strong faith can have patience at a time of ease.

God does not like the lazy. He is only a friend of strong people. Only the winner has God by his side.

Patience, as people have told me throughout my entire life, is not my strong suit.

With persistent perseverance, you can break through any barrier.

Impatience makes even the strong weak.

The strong manly ones in life are those who understand the meaning of the word patience.

Deception is the natural defence of the weak against the strong, and the South used it for many years against its conquerors; to-day it must be prepared to see its black proletariat turn that same two-edged weapon against itself. And how natural this is! The death of Denmark Vesey and Nat Turner proved long since to the Negro the present hopelessness of physical defence. Political defence is becoming less and less available, and economic defence is still only partially effective. But there is a patent defence at hand,—the defence of deception and flattery, of cajoling and lying. It is the same defence which peasants of the Middle Age used and which left its stamp on their character for centuries. To-day the young Negro of the South who would succeed cannot be frank and outspoken, honest and self-assertive, but rather he is daily tempted to be silent and wary, politic and sly; he must flatter and be pleasant, endure petty insults with a smile, shut his eyes to wrong; in too many cases he sees positive personal advantage in deception and lying. His real thoughts, his real aspirations, must be guarded in whispers; he must not criticise, he must not complain. Patience, humility, and adroitness must, in these growing black youth, replace impulse, manliness, and courage. With this sacrifice there is an economic opening, and perhaps peace and some prosperity. Without this there is riot, migration, or crime. Nor is this situation peculiar to the Southern United States, is it not rather the only method by which undeveloped races have gained the right to share modern culture? The price of culture is a Lie.

Before Parting A MONTH or twain to live on honeycomb Is pleasant; but one tires of scented time, Cold sweet recurrence of accepted rhyme, And that strong purple under juice and foam Where the wine’s heart has burst; Nor feel the latter kisses like the first. Once yet, this poor one time; I will not pray Even to change the bitterness of it, The bitter taste ensuing on the sweet, To make your tears fall where your soft hair lay All blurred and heavy in some perfumed wise Over my face and eyes. And yet who knows what end the scythèd wheat Makes of its foolish poppies’ mouths of red? These were not sown, these are not harvested, They grow a month and are cast under feet And none has care thereof, As none has care of a divided love. I know each shadow of your lips by rote, Each change of love in eyelids and eyebrows; The fashion of fair temples tremulous With tender blood, and colour of your throat; I know not how love is gone out of this, Seeing that all was his. Love’s likeness there endures upon all these: But out of these one shall not gather love. Day hath not strength nor the night shade enough To make love whole and fill his lips with ease, As some bee-builded cell Feels at filled lips the heavy honey swell. I know not how this last month leaves your hair Less full of purple colour and hid spice, And that luxurious trouble of closed eyes Is mixed with meaner shadow and waste care; And love, kissed out by pleasure, seems not yet Worth patience to regret.

Let adversity reinforce your principles and values, not destroy them, hold on to them, like a strong tree holding on to the ground and his roots against the winds and tempest. The Storm will pass.

The endurance of monotony has about the same place in a healty mind that the endurance of darkness has: that is to say, as a strong intellect will have pleasure in the solemnities of storm and twilight, and in the broken and mysterious lights that gleam among them, rather than in mere brilliancy and glare, while a frivolous mind will dread the shadow and storm; and as a great man will be ready to endure much darkness of fortune in order to reach greater eminence of power or felicity, while an inferior man will not pay the price; exactly in like manner a great mind will accept, or even delight in, monotony which would be wearisome to an inferior intellect, because it has more patience and power of expectation, and is ready to pay the full price for the great future pleasure of change.

Her sensations on the discovery made her perfectly speechless. She could not even thank him. She could only hang over little Charles, with most disordered feelings. His kindness in stepping forward to her relief – the manner— the silence in which it had passed – the little particulars of the circumstance – with the conviction soon forced on her by the noise he was studiously making with the child, that he meant to avoid hearing her thanks, and rather sought to testify that her conversation was the last of his wants, produced such a confusion of varying, but very painful agitation, as she could not recover from, till enabled by the entrance of Mary and the Miss Musgroves to make over her little patience to their cares, and leave the room. She could not stay. It might have been an opportunity of watching the loves and jealousies of the four; they were now all together, but she could stay for none of it. It was evident that Charles Hayter was not well inclined towards Captain Wentworth. She had a strong impression of his having said, in a vext tone of voice, after Captain Wentworth’s interference, ‘You ought to have minded me, Walter; I told you not to teaze your aunt;’ and could comprehend his regretting that Captain Wentworth should do what he ought to have done himself. But neither Charles Hayter’s feelings, nor any body’s feelings, could interest her, till she had a little better arranged her own. She was ashamed of herself, quite ashamed of being so nervous, so overcome by such a trifle; but so it was; and it required a long application of solitude and reflection to recover her.

Father: an inspirational person; emulated, admired and much loved; strong character with exceptional patience and unrivalled wisdom; often referred to as a son's first hero and a daughter's first love.

A Short Story of Falling It is the story of the falling rain to turn into a leaf and fall again it is the secret of a summer shower to steal the light and hide it in a flower and every flower a tiny tributary that from the ground flows green and momentary is one of water's wishes and this tale hangs in a seed-head smaller than my thumbnail if only I a passerby could pass as clear as water through a plume of grass to find the sunlight hidden at the tip turning to seed a kind of lifting rain drip then I might know like water how to balance the weight of hope against the light of patience water which is so raw so earthy-strong and lurks in cast-iron tanks and leaks along drawn under gravity towards my tongue to cool and fill the pipe-work of this song which is the story of the falling rain that rises to the light and falls again

Boldness is superior to timidity in every instance although boldness does not always equate to immediate aggressive action. A nervy, calculating patience that allows the enemy to commit himself irrevocably before we strike him can also be a form of boldness. Boldness is based on strong situation awareness: We weigh the situation, then act. In other words, boldness must be tempered with judgment lest it border on recklessness.

if you have a strong power of endurance, patience and fine health, if your dispassion is intense and of a sustained type and if you are willing to do some selfless service to mankind, you need not worry about money.

[Patience] fortifies faith; is the pilot of peace; assists charity; establishes humility; waits long for repentance; sets her seal on confession; rules the flesh; preserves the spirit; bridles the tongue; restrains the hand; tramples temptations under foot; drives away scandals; . . . consoles the poor; teaches the rich moderation; overstrains not the weak; exhausts not the strong; is the delight of the believer. Tertullian, Of Patience

Courtesy is the manner the strong adopt toward the weak. It is the recognition of their dominance." "Sometimes I am meek," I said. "Sometimes I'm quite shy." She gave me an exasperated look, as though I were a child who had strained the limits of her patience. "You are a man, and men are outcasts. You are outcasts from the very world you made. The world you built on the bodies of other species. Of women." I did not want to argue with her. In a way she was right. Men have tamed the world. (15)

✓In a garden you can find, quiet thoughts that calm the mind. ✓Every noble achievement is a dream before it is a reality just as the oak is an acorn before it is a tree. ✓Life is like a field, where we must gather what we grow, weed or wheat... this is the law, we reap the crop we sow. ✓Happy is the person who can keep a quiet heart, in the chaos and tumult of this modern world ✓While it is February one can taste the full joys of anticipation. Spring stands at the gate with her finger on the latch

It is a mistake to think that Christians ought all to be teetotallers; Of course it may be the duty of a particular Christian, or of any Christian, at a particular time, to abstain from strong drink, either because he is the sort of man who cannot drink at all without drinking too much, or because he wants to give the money to the poor, or because he is with people who are inclined to drunkenness and must not encourage them by drinking himself. But the whole point is that he is abstaining, for a good reason, from something which he does not condemn and which he likes to see other people enjoying. One of the marks of a certain type of bad man is that he cannot give up a thing himself without wanting everyone else to give it up. That is not the Christian way. An individual Christian may see fit to give up all sorts of things for special reasons—marriage, or meat, or beer, or the cinema; but the moment he starts saying the things are bad in themselves, or looking down his nose at other people who do use them, he has taken the wrong turning. One great piece of mischief has been done by the modern restriction of the word Temperance to the question of drink. It helps people to forget that you can be just as intemperate about lots of other things. A man who makes his golf or his motor-bicycle the centre of his life, or a woman who devotes all her thoughts to clothes or bridge or her dog, is being just as "intemperate" as someone who gets drunk every evening. Of course, it does not show on the outside so easily: bridge-mania or golf-mania do not make you fall down in the middle of the road. But God is not deceived by externals.

Give me your time, your honesty, your respect, kindness, patience, fidelity. Give me comfort when things are tough...I give off an air of being self-sufficient and instead of expressing and demanding the right kind of love for myself, I always wanted to appear like I was fine, in fact, I thought I was fine - and so did they. But it wasn't true. Just because you're a strong girl doesn't mean you don't need to be loved and cared for like anybody else. And it doesn't matter where you sit in this world, poor or rich, famous or not, we all need to be loved in the right way.

It’s just healing again, and you need to give it a little patience. You’ll be stronger for it. Recovery is not a linear path. These setbacks are necessary for progress.” With his words, he reminded me I could do this, that it was hard for a reason, and that I was strong enough to meet it head-on.

Always – but especially when suffering - surround yourself with those who inspire you to lose yourself more honestly, to love others more thoroughly, to live life more fully, and to trust God more wholly. Huddle with those who care for you and those who are exemplary in their encouragement, patience and understanding of others. Hang out with those who strive to put God and faith at their center. Pray for peers, friends and mentors who will not only encourage you to be your best independent, strong, and vulnerable self all at the same time – but also sincerely humble. Pray that their angel dust will transcend you when even the smallest flecks of their contagious warmth and permeating beauty fall upon you. Then ever pray that you may have the opportunity to likewise ease and nurture others in such authentic ways; thus honing such a charitable, other-oriented nature of your own, – a miraculous healing balm – a buffer of pain if there ever was one. Know this is the most powerful antidote for fear and sorrow; the most effective – and addictive – cure-all known in all of creation; an elixir for that otherwise, elusive kind of happiness – the kind that weathers, endures and remains in all seasons and conditions.

When the time has come, every leaf turns to face the sun! It doesn't know if it has to, but because the call has reached it: Not knowing what to expect, it will, move slightly, twist patiently and try to embrace whatever is coming! It might be too strong, it might be too weak, it also might just be perfect!

You don't turn a river by abruptly trying to get it to change direction. You don't have that much power. No matter how strong you are. The river will just overwhelm you and obstinately carry on pretty much as before. You can't make it change direction overnight. No one can. On the contrary, you have to start by flowing with it

endures, hupomeno (hoop-ahm-en-oh); Strong’s #5278: To hold one’s ground in conflict, bear up against adversity, hold out under stress, stand firm, persevere under pressure, wait calmly and courageously. It is not passive resignation to fate and mere patience, but the active, energetic resistance to defeat that allows calm and brave endurance.

How clear she shines ! How quietly I lie beneath her guardian light; While heaven and earth are whispering me, " To morrow, wake, but, dream to-night." Yes, Fancy, come, my Fairy love ! These throbbing temples softly kiss; And bend my lonely couch above And bring me rest, and bring me bliss. The world is going; dark world, adieu ! Grim world, conceal thee till the day; The heart, thou canst not all subdue, Must still resist, if thou delay ! Thy love I will not, will not share; Thy hatred only wakes a smile; Thy griefs may wound–thy wrongs may tear, But, oh, thy lies shall ne'er beguile ! While gazing on the stars that glow Above me, in that stormless sea, I long to hope that all the woe Creation knows, is held in thee ! And, this shall be my dream to-night; I'll think the heaven of glorious spheres [Page 104] Is rolling on its course of light In endless bliss, through endless years; I'll think, there's not one world above, Far as these straining eyes can see, Where Wisdom ever laughed at Love, Or Virtue crouched to Infamy; Where, writhing 'neath the strokes of Fate, The mangled wretch was forced to smile; To match his patience 'gainst her hate, His heart rebellious all the while. Where Pleasure still will lead to wrong, And helpless Reason warn in vain; And Truth is weak, and Treachery strong; And Joy the surest path to Pain; And Peace, the lethargy of Grief; And Hope, a phantom of the soul; And Life, a labour, void and brief; And Death, the despot of the whole !

In reality, for anybody to make real impact, he ought to be real. He ought to know the real position of materialism in purposefulness. He ought to understand the real reasons to act and the consequences for staying dormant. He ought to know the people who matter most in making true impacts and build the best synergy. As a matter of fact, he ought to be ready to embrace the real challenges that come with staying purposeful and making real impact. In fact, he ought to be able to turn what least counts and what is so uncanny to what really counts. He ought to be a mindset changer.He ought to know the real essence of time and timing and the value of patience and assertiveness. He ought to be strong. Living to leave footprints that count is what will make us count

I hadn't told him the news yet, but in that same preternatural way he was always aware of what I was feeling or thinking, he could smell my lies a mile away. He was just giving me time to come to him. To tell him I'd be baking his bun for the next seven and a half months. ''I'm okay." Dex's chuckle filled my ears as he wrapped his arms around my chest from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head. "Just okay?" He was taunting me, I knew it. This man never did anything without a reason. And this reason had him resembling a mama bear. A really aggressive, possessive mama bear. Which said something because Dex was normally that way. I couldn't even sit around Mayhem without him or Sonny within ten feet. I leaned my head back against his chest and laughed. "Yeah, just okay." He made a humming noise deep in his throat. "Ritz," he drawled in that low voice that reached the darkest parts of my organs. "You're killin' me, honey." Oh boy. Did I want to officially break the news on the side of the road with chunks of puke possibly still on my face? Nah. So I went with the truth. "I have it all planned out in my head. I already ordered the cutest little toy motorcycle to tell you, so don't ruin it." A loud laugh burst out of his chest, so strong it rocked my body alongside his. I friggin' loved this guy. Every single time he laughed, I swear it multiplied. At this rate, I loved him more than my own life cubed, and then cubed again. "All right," he murmured between these low chuckles once he'd calmed down a bit. His fingers trailed over the skin of the back of my hand until he stopped at my ring finger and squeezed the slender bone. "I can be patient." That earned him a laugh from me. Patience? Dex? Even after more than three years, that would still never be a term I'd use to describe him. And it probably never would. He'd started to lose his shit during our layover when Trip had called for instructions on how to set the alarm at the new bar. "Dex, Ris, and Baby Locke, you done?" Sonny yelled, peeping out from over the top of the car door. "Are you friggin' kidding me?" I yelled back. Did everyone know? That slow, seductive smile crawled over his features. Brilliant and more affectionate than it was possible for me to handle, it sucked the breath out of me. When he palmed my cheeks and kissed each of my cheeks and nose and forehead, slowly like he was savoring the pecks and the contact, I ate it all up. Like always, and just like I always would. And he answered the way I knew he would every single time I asked him from them on, the way that told me he would never let me down. That he was an immovable object. That he'd always be there for me to battle the demons we could see and the invisible ones we couldn't. "Fuckin' love you, Iris," he breathed against my ear, an arm slinking around my lower back to press us together. "More than anything.

Now Paul sees a formula: trials build patience, patience builds experience, and experience builds hope. As we handle life’s challenges and disappointments in active, faithful patience, we grow in victory over despair and surrender. These experiences, lived in patience, build hope. Add the Holy Spirit to this mix, and our hearts and minds grow strong in the quiet glory of living life with God, no matter what we face.

Confidence makes you strong, not proud. Composure makes you tough, not timid. Courage makes you bold, not arrogant. Prudence makes you practical, not intolerant. Respect makes you honorable, not weak. Humility makes you modest, not spineless. Silence makes you prudent, not feeble. Meekness makes you gentle, not helpless. Kindness makes you caring, not vulnerable. Charity makes you compassionate, not spineless. Mercy makes you sympathetic, not fragile. Patience makes you cautious, not powerless. Piety makes you noble, not bigoted. Loyalty makes you trustworthy, not foolish. Justice makes you fair, not vengeful. Integrity makes you strong, not stern. Chastity makes you disciplined, not narrow. Wealth makes you prominent, not selfish. Power makes you influential, not self centered. Honor makes you important, not narcissistic. Fame makes you privileged, not spoiled. Servitude makes you respectable, not sycophantic. Self-control makes you dignified, not self-righteous. Discipline makes you focused, not obsessed. Imagination makes you special, not odd. Pleasure makes you happy, not corruptible. Goodness makes you saintly, not narrow. Faith makes you spiritual, not obstinate. Love makes you mystical, not religious. God makes you transcendent, not ordinary.

Many feelings and behaviors are no doubt left over from childhood. Children feel weak and vulnerable; they are dependent, and they feel that dependency strongly; they don’t think much of themselves; they have a constant need for approval; they are very prone to anxiety and quick to anger. They have no patience. To a degree, we all continue to generate some of those feelings unconsciously right on into adulthood. What varies from person

Mi agente no es la criatura más brillante, aunque, como muchos intermediarios en la mayoría de los oficios, suele ser capaz de ocultar este enorme vacío mental con su labia moderna y colocando estratégicamente la última frase o concepto de moda. Posee lo que yo llamo 'mentalidad propia de un alumno de Bellas Artes', que es la variante revenida del verdadero intelectual. Cítale un latinismo por error y se examinará los zapatos o te sonreirá con descaro. Rara vez hallo satisfacción en debatir abstracciones complejas o rompecabezas metafísicos con él. En última instancia, naturalmente, solo le importa su diez por ciento y estoy seguro de que preferiría tener a Patience Strong que a Christopher Logue en sus libros. Pero es ingenuo buscar gran alimento intelectual en un parásito, de la misma manera que lo sería esperar las delicadezas del amor romántico en compañía de una prostituta.

Bread – like real love – took time, cultivation, strong loving hands and patience. It lived, rising and growing to fruition only under the most perfect circumstances. If the water was too warm, it killed the yeast; too cool and the yeast was not inspired to grow the bread. Without enough sugar, the yeast would starve, leaving the bread flat and lifeless; if the air was not humid enough, the yeast could not spur the bread to reach its full potential.

And the others, who have avoided all of these deaths, get up in the morning and go downtown to meet “the man.” They work in the white man’s world all day and come home in the evening to this fetid block. They struggle to instill in their children some private sense of honor or dignity which will help the child to survive. This means, of course, that they must struggle, stolidly, incessantly, to keep this sense alive in themselves, in spite of the insults, the indifference, and the cruelty they are certain to encounter in their working day. They patiently browbeat the landlord into fixing the heat, the plaster, the plumbing; this demands prodigious patience; nor is patience usually enough. In trying to make their hovels habitable, they are perpetually throwing good money after bad. Such frustration, so long endured, is driving many strong, admirable men and women whose only crime is color to the very gates of paranoia.

But I praise You that when I am weak, You are strong. When I lack wisdom, You give wisdom. When I lack patience, You’ve got plenty. When I feel like quitting, You empower me to persevere. When it feels like everything is falling apart, You are in control. I am so thankful that Your Spirit indwells me and continually pours new courage and strength into my weary soul. Thank You that You are faithful. Lord, help me not to throw away my confidence but to choose to praise You even in the moments when I feel inadequate.

We want union with something, even if the opposite seems true.  Bring two atomic nuclei together and their positive electrostatic forces will repel each other, but, with the patience and strength of the blind god of the galaxies, there comes a point where something bigger takes over and welds them together. Physicists call it the Strong Nuclear Force; I’ve called this magic glue God. All the elements heavier than hydrogen were so formed, forged in the great hearts of the stars: sulphur, potassium, gold, radium. Everything you can think of.  

Books are Windows of Enchantment - through them we can see - the moving spectacle of life: the farce, the tragedy. Every book a window that reveals the author's mind. Books, books, books ... Oh how we long to know what is behind - the covers of those volumes stacked in neat inviting rows. Comedy, philosophy, fact, fiction, verse and prose. Magic windows, fling them open! Through them you will view - new horizons, other worlds all beckoning to you ... There are treasures to be found for all who care to look. Comfort, wisdom, knowledge ... in the pages of a book.

We are fortified by exemplary lives, especially those who have earned the right to be respected by their character, sacrifice, patience, and ability to press on in spite of hardship, injustice, pain, and failure. Our heroes do not have to be perfect. They must, however be courageous, authentic, clear-minded, and determined to endure no matter the sacrifice or cost. We need heroes of integrity and consistency, admirable men and women we can admire, not because they exemplify a quick burst of bravery, but because they represent the stuff of greatness and stay at it to the end. Finishing strong is a vital part of standing tall.

Human habit is prevalent in us when our mind focuses too much on the past or the future. Since human habit is strongly connected to survival, our record of the past will be the main filter that we use to assess the world. Rather than taking in what is happening in a fresh way and without judgment, we will make quick evaluations and not have the patience to fully grasp the novel and complex quality of each individual moment. Our thoughts of the future will be similarly molded by whatever happened in the past. And our anxieties and concerns will be on a mission to make sure that the things we hated from the past do not happen again,

It will take patience and empathy and real self-love to heal the wounds in your life. As Thich Nhat Hanh has written: After recognizing and embracing our inner child, the third function of mindfulness is to soothe and relieve our difficult emotions. Just by holding this child gently, we are soothing our difficult emotions and we can begin to feel at ease. When we embrace our strong emotions with mindfulness and concentration, we’ll be able to see the roots of these mental formations. We’ll know where our suffering has come from. When we see the roots of things, our suffering will lessen. So mindfulness recognizes, embraces, and relieves.

Eugene Peterson has said, “American culture is stubbornly resistant to the way of Jesus.”5 The culture is strongly individualistic; the church is to be strongly communal. The culture is impatient; the church is to be persevering. The culture is celebrity-ridden; the church is to be a culture of humility. The culture celebrates competence; the church’s first priority is dependence. The way of Jesus, then, is one of community, and submission, service, and patience in that community. Jesus’ way is the road of humility, living in a state of brokenness before God. Jesus’ way is a people anxious to depend on God rather than on competence alone.

Parenting is truly an exercise in patience, so be patient as you implement these ideas. Many times you may feel frustrated if your child does not respond the way you would like them to. Be calm and be positive. The essential thing is to be positive and to build a strong bond of connection with your child. When parents and children love, trust and respect each other, they can easily handle frustrating moments. So let love be your guiding principle as you teach your child to develop the skill set and mindset to raise their grades in school and position themselves for opportunities in college, scholarships, career and life. Let’s go Above & Beyond…

Few scientists and philosophers have developed strong skills of introspection—in fact, most doubt that such abilities even exist. Conversely, many of the greatest contemplatives know nothing about science. But there is a connection between scientific fact and spiritual wisdom, and it is more direct than most people suppose. Although the insights we can have in meditation tell us nothing about the origins of the universe, they do confirm some well-established truths about the human mind: Our conventional sense of self is an illusion; positive emotions, such as compassion and patience, are teachable skills; and the way we think directly influences our experience of the world.

While we would like to believe otherwise, it is usually not the cream that rises to the top: our society rewards behaviors that are actually disadvantageous to everyone. Studies have shown that the traits long considered signs of strong leadership (like overconfidence and aggression) are in reality disastrous in both business and politics—not to mention the personal toll this style of leadership takes on the individuals around these leaders. These traits are broadly considered to be masculine, whereas characteristics often associated with weakness or lack of leadership (patience, accommodation, cooperation) are coded as feminine. This is a global phenomenon of counterproductive values that social scientists have long marveled over.

How do you last a torrid time in Life? 1. Accept the reality that you are in the throes of a crisis. Stop wishing that it didn’t exist. Acceptance always delivers inner peace. 2. Know that the storm will always be strong. By even thinking of its ferocity, you are only going to feel debilitated. At the epicenter of a storm, it is always calm. Find that center, your center. That’s where you will find strength. 3. Your center is where you lose sense of time, place and thought. Art – anything inherent that makes you come alive – often leads you there. 4. Trust the process of Life. Do what you can do without losing your inner peace – daily, diligently. 5. No matter how intense it is, no storm lasts forever. All storms pass. So, be patient, surrender completely, let go…and offer yourself to be led by Life…

A man on his deathbed left instructions For dividing up his goods among his three sons. He had devoted his entire spirit to those sons. They stood like cypress trees around him, Quiet and strong. He told the town judge, 'Whichever of my sons is laziest, Give him all the inheritance.' Then he died, and the judge turned to the three, 'Each of you must give some account of your laziness, so I can understand just how you are lazy.' Mystics are experts in laziness. They rely on it, Because they continuously see God working all around them. The harvest keeps coming in, yet they Never even did the plowing! 'Come on. Say something about the ways you are lazy.' Every spoken word is a covering for the inner self. A little curtain-flick no wider than a slice Of roast meat can reveal hundreds of exploding suns. Even if what is being said is trivial and wrong, The listener hears the source. One breeze comes From across a garden. Another from across the ash-heap. Think how different the voices of the fox And the lion, and what they tell you! Hearing someone is lifting the lid off the cooking pot. You learn what's for supper. Though some people Can know just by the smell, a sweet stew From a sour soup cooked with vinegar. A man taps a clay pot before he buys it To know by the sound if it has a crack. The eldest of the three brothers told the judge, 'I can know a man by his voice, and if he won't speak, I wait three days, and then I know him intuitively.' The second brother, 'I know him when he speaks, And if he won't talk, I strike up a conversation.' 'But what if he knows that trick?' asked the judge. Which reminds me of the mother who tells her child 'When you're walking through the graveyard at night and you see a boogeyman, run at it, and it will go away.' 'But what,' replies the child, 'if the boogeyman's Mother has told it to do the same thing? Boogeymen have mothers too.' The second brother had no answer. 'I sit in front of him in silence, And set up a ladder made of patience, And if in his presence a language from beyond joy And beyond grief begins to pour from my chest, I know that his soul is as deep and bright As the star Canopus rising over Yemen. And so when I start speaking a powerful right arm Of words sweeping down, I know him from what I say, And how I say it, because there's a window open Between us, mixing the night air of our beings.' The youngest was, obviously, The laziest. He won.

Why didn’t you tell me your brother looked like that?” Caldon asked quietly, bringing up the rear of the group with Kiva. “Like what?” she murmured distractedly. “What do you mean, ‘like what’?” Caldon said, exasperated. “Like that.” He waved a hand toward Tor’s strong back. “He’s delicious.” That was enough to shock Kiva from her fears, and she whipped her head toward the prince. “I thought you were into girls?” Caldon pulled a face. “Firstly,” he said, “women. I’m into women—not girls. There’s a difference.” Kiva raised her hands in apology. “All right, sorry.” “And secondly,” Caldon said with strained patience, “I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to. And right now, there is nothing about that”—he dipped his chin toward Torell—“that isn’t attractive.” Somewhat woefully, he added, “I can’t believe you kept him a secret.

I learned about opening moves and why it’s important to control the center early on; the shortest distance between two points is straight down the middle. I learned about the middle game and why tactics between two adversaries are like clashing ideas; the one who plays better has the clearest plans for both attacking and getting out of traps. I learned why it is essential in the endgame to have foresight, a mathematical understanding of all possible moves, and patience; all weaknesses and advantages become evident to a strong adversary and are obscured to a tiring opponent. I discovered that for the whole game one must gather invisible strengths and see the endgame before the game begins. I also found out why I should never reveal “why” to others. A little knowledge withheld is a great advantage one should store for future use. That is the power of chess. It is a game of secrets in which one must show and never tell.

I’ve spent a lot of time trying not to be weak. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to put myself beyond the need for care. I’ve worked hard. I’ve exercised. I’ve earned degrees. I’ve written books. I’ve bought new clothes. I’ve driven new cars. These things aren’t bad in themselves. They can be good. They can, in fact, be done with care. They can be undertaken as acts of love, as means of service. But, as a rule, I haven’t done this. I’ve treated these things more as idols than as occasions for care. I’ve pursued them as props for projecting a fiction of worthiness, independence, and strength. But I am tired—so tired—of pretending not to be weak. I’m tired of pretending I’m not going to die. I’m tired of pretending I don’t need Christ. If I’m serious about Christ, then my only hope is to let these idols die. My only hope is to practice living with as much care and patience and attention as I can. In this sense, care is the work of no longer pretending to be strong. Care depends on finally being honest.

He did not want to die like a sick man. He did not want his sickness to be what it is so often, an attenuation, a transition to death. What he really wanted was the encounter between his life - a life filled with blood and health - and death. He stood, dragged a chair over to the window and sat down in it, huddling in his blankets. Through the thin curtains, in the places where the material did not fall in folds, he saw the stars. He breathed heavily for a long time, and gripped the arms of his chair to control his trembling hands. He would reconquer his lucidity if he could. "It could be done, " he was thinking. And he was thinking, too, that the gas was still on in the kitchen. "It could be done," he thought again. Lucidity too was a long patience. Everything could be won, earned, acquired. He struck his fist on the arm of the chair. A man is not born strong, weak, or decisive. He becomes strong, he becomes lucid. Fate is not in man but around him. Then he realized he was crying. A strange weakness, a kind of cowardice born of his sickness gave way to tears, to childishness.

Finally, you need to also refine or cultivate those traits that go into a strong character—resilience under pressure, attention to detail, the ability to complete things, to work with a team, to be tolerant of people’s differences. The only way to do so is to work on your habits, which go into the slow formation of your character. For instance, you train yourself to not react in the moment by repeatedly placing yourself in stressful or adverse situations in order to get used to them. In boring everyday tasks, you cultivate greater patience and attention to detail. You deliberately take on tasks slightly above your level. In completing them, you have to work harder, helping you establish more discipline and better work habits. You train yourself to continually think of what is best for the team. You also search out others who display a strong character and associate with them as much as possible. In this way you can assimilate their energy and their habits. And to develop some flexibility in your character, always a sign of strength, you occasionally shake yourself up, trying out some new strategy or way of thinking, doing the opposite of what you would normally do. With such work you will no longer be a slave to the character created by your earliest years and the compulsive behavior it leads to. Even further, you can now actively shape your very character and the fate that goes with it. In anything, it is a mistake to think one can perform an action or behave in a certain way once and no more. (The mistake of those who say: “Let us slave away and save every penny till we are thirty, then we will enjoy ourselves.” At thirty they will have a bent for avarice and hard work, and will never enjoy themselves any more . . . .) What one does, one will do again, indeed has probably already done in the distant past. The agonizing thing in life is that it is our own decisions that throw us into this rut, under the wheels that crush us. (The truth is that, even before making those decisions, we were going in that direction.) A decision, an action, are infallible omens of what we shall do another time, not for any vague, mystic, astrological reason but because they result from an automatic reaction that will repeat itself. —Cesare Pavese

It seems that in the kingdom of Heaven, the cosmic lottery works in reverse; in the kingdom of Heaven, all of our notions of the lucky and the unlucky, the blessed and the cursed, the haves and the have-nots, are turned upside down. In the kingdom of Heaven, the last will be first and the first will be last. In India, I realised that while the poor and oppressed certainly deserve my compassion and help, they do not need my pity. Widows and orphans and lepers and untouchables enjoy special access to the Gospel that I do not have. They benefit immediately from the Good News that freedom is found not in retribution but in forgiveness, that real power belongs not to the strong but to the merciful, that joy comes not from wealth but from generosity. The rest of us have to get used to the idea that we cannot purchase love or fight for peace or find happiness in high positions. Those of us who have never suffered are at a disadvantage because Jesus invites His followers to fellowship in His suffering. In fact, the first thing Jesus did in His sermon on the mount was to mess with our assumptions about the cosmic lottery. In Luke’s account, Jesus says, "Blessed are you who are poor for yours is the Kingdom of God. Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort. Woe to you who are well-fed now, for you will go hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will mourn and weep.” (Luke 6:20-21; 24-25) It seems that the kingdom of God is made up of the least of these. To be present among them is to encounter what the Celtic saints called “thin spaces”, places or moments in time in which the veil separating heaven and earth, the spiritual and the material, becomes almost transparent. I’d like to think that I’m a part of this kingdom, even though my stuff and my comforts sometimes thicken the veil. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control – these are God things, and they are available to all, regardless of status or standing. Everything else is just extra, and extra can be a distraction. Extra lulls us into the complacency and tricks us into believing that we need more than we need. Extra makes it harder to distinguish between God things and just things.

As she pondered how to reply, she thought of a conversation she'd once had with her father, the most sensible man who'd ever existed. They'd been talking about various problems she'd faced after taking the reins at Sterling Enterprises, and she'd asked how he knew whether a risk was worth taking. Her father had said, "Before taking a risk, begin by asking yourself what's important to you." Time, Merritt thought. Life is full of wasted time. She hadn't realized it until now, but her awareness of squandered time had been growing during the past year, eroding her usual patience. So many rules had been invented to keep people apart and wall off every natural instinct. She was tired of them. She had started to resent all the invisible barriers between herself and what she wanted. It occurred to her this must be how her mother often felt. As a strong-willed young heiress, Mama had come to England with her younger sister, Aunt Daisy, when no gentlemen in New York had been willing to offer for either of them. Wallflowers, both of them, chafing at the limitations of polite behavior. Even now, Mama spoke and acted a little too freely at times, but Papa seemed to enjoy it.

It is hard to overestimate the importance of the Catholic church’s value for European culture and for the whole world. It Christianized and civilized barbaric peoples and for a long time was the only guardian of science and art. Here the church’s cloisters were preeminent. The Catholic church developed a spiritual power unequaled anywhere, and today we still admire the way it combined the principle of catholicism with the principle of one sanctifying church, as well as tolerance with intolerance. It is a world in itself. Infinite diversity flows together, and this colorful picture gives it its irresistible charm (Complexio oppositorum). A country has seldom produced so many different kinds of people as has the Catholic church. With admirable power, it has understood how to maintain unity in diversity, to gain the love and respect of the masses, and to foster a strong sense of community. . . . But it is exactly because of this greatness that we have serious reservations. Has this world [of the Catholic church] really remained the church of Christ? Has it not perhaps become an obstruction blocking the path to God instead of a road sign on the path to God? Has it not blocked the only path to salvation? Yet no one can ever obstruct the way to God. The church still has the Bible, and as long as she has it we can still believe in the holy Christian church. God’s word will never be denied (Isa. 55:11), whether it be preached by us or by our sister church. We adhere to the same confession of faith, we pray the same Lord’s Prayer, and we share some of the same ancient rites. This binds us together, and as far as we are concerned we would like to live in peace with our disparate sister. We do not, however, want to deny anything that we have recognized as God’s word. The designation Catholic or Protestant is unimportant. The important thing is God’s word. Conversely, we will never violate anyone else’s faith. God does not desire reluctant service, and God has given everyone a conscience. We can and should desire that our sister church search its soul and concentrate on nothing but the word [1 Cor. 2:12– 13]. Until that time, we must have patience. We will have to endure it when, in false darkness, the “only holy church” pronounces upon our church the “anathema” (condemnation). She doesn’t know any better, and she doesn’t hate the heretic, only the heresy. As long as we let the word be our only armor we can look confidently into the future.

Social primates like you and I have a strong and wholly nonrational propensity to force-fit our problems into a social mode – no matter what’s happening, we want to put a face on it, which in practice amounts to blaming it on the troop over there, or the baboons at the top of our troop’s hierarchy, or maybe the ones at the bottom. We also like to define any problem so that its apparent solution doesn’t make us feel that the fulfillment of such basic biological appetites as food, sex, status, and security are put in question. Add to those distorting factors a widespread ignorance of logic and history, and a great deal of straightforward dishonesty on all sides of the political continuum, and you’ve got a pretty fair mess. Thus we’ve arrived as a society, and at a very late stage in the game, at the same point that classical philosophy reached as the Roman Empire began to falter, when it became uncomfortably clear that having a small minority of people passionately interested in asking and answering the right questions was no guarantee against catastrophic levels of collective stupidity. The answer that theurgic Neoplatonism offered was a personal answer, rooted in the systematic practice of a set of magical disciplines meant to make clear thinking and decisive action possible for anyone with the self-discipline, patience, and persistence to do the necessary work.

The vast majority of Muslims still breathe in a universe in which the Name of God is associated above all with Compassion and Mercy, and they turn to Him in patience even in the midst of the worst tribulations. If it seems that more violence is associated with Islam than with other religions today, it is not due to the fact that there has been no violence elsewhere—think of the Korean and Vietnam wars, the atrocities committed by the Serbs, and the genocide in Rwanda and Burundi. The reason is that Islam is still very strong in Islamic society. Because Islam so pervades the lives of Muslims, all actions, including violent ones, are carried out in the name of Islam, especially since other ideologies such as nationalism and socialism have become so bankrupt. Yet this identification is itself paradoxical because traditional Islam is as much on the side of peace and accord as are traditional Judaism and Christianity. Despite such phenomena, however, if one looks at the extensive panorama of the Islamic spectrum summarized below, it becomes evident that for the vast majority of Muslims, the traditional norms based on peace and openness to others, norms that have governed their lives over the centuries and are opposed to both secularist modernism and “fundamentalism,” are of central concern. And after the dust settles in this tumultuous period of both Islamic and global history, it will be the voice of traditional Islam that will have the final say in the Islamic world.

Our earth is but a small star in the great universe. Yet, of it we can make, if we choose, a planet unvexed by war, untroubled by hunger or fear, undivided by senseless distinctions of race, color or theory. Grant us that courage and foreseeing to begin this task today that our children and our children’s children may be proud of the name of Man…. Grant us the wisdom and the vision to comprehend the greatness of man’s spirit, that suffers and endures so hugely for a goal beyond his own brief span. “Grant us patience with the deluded and pity for the betrayed. And grant us the skill and valor that shall cleanse the world of oppression and the old base doctrine that the strong must eat the weak because they are strong. “Yet most of all grant us brotherhood, not only for this day but for all our years—a brotherhood not of words but of acts and deeds. We are all of us children of earth—grant us that simple knowledge. If our brothers are oppressed, then we are oppressed. If they hunger, we hunger. If their freedom is taken away, our freedom is not secure. “Grant us a common faith that man shall know bread and peace—that he shall know justice and righteousness, freedom and security, an equal opportunity and an equal chance to do his best, not only in our own lands but throughout the world. And in that faith let us march toward the clean world our hands can make. AMEN.” The phone rang. It was the local radio station, a CBS affiliate. New York wanted me to go on the air in an hour. Dave rushed me down to the station in his car.

Eena worried to Ian in her thoughts. (You’re not going to let him walk away thinking what I think he’s thinking, are you?) (You won't change his mind. The evidence is a little suggestive. You should have just stayed behind me.) (Oh, this is all my fault?) (Well, you were the one swimming in your underwear.) (And you’re the one who took your shirt off!) (You think the alternative would have been better?) She shuttered at the thought of the Braetic stumbling across her in her underclothes. “Cale,” Eena said in another attempt to convince the stranger. Somehow she managed to sidestep Ian’s effort to halt her, and she approached the man. “I am not messing around with my protector. I am, and always have been, true and faithful to Derian. It’s just……a lot of weird things have happened lately.” The Braetic looked willing to consider a good excuse. “Such as?” “Well,” she started, casting a furtive glance at Ian. He was shaking his head, conveying strong disapproval. She ignored him. “Okay, well…..I’ve been fighting these immortals who are bent on using me to break free from an imprisoning gem where they were sentenced to stayed locked up for eternity. They nearly annihilated a world of Viiduns—that’s how awful they are! But one of these immortals has control over my necklace, and her brother keeps transporting me and my protector all over Moccobatra in search of pieces to a star-shaped platform they intend to use to free their bodies which have been trapped for over three-thousand years now. We were sent here at an inopportune—and highly embarrassing—moment to find the final piece to the platform. It’s been a nightmare just trying to stay alive!” “Wow,” Cale breathed, not looking half as concerned as Eena thought he ought to. “So these immortals are using you and trying to kill you at the same time?” She shook her head. “No, no, only the dragons are trying to kill me…or they were trying to kill me until Naga put a stop to them.” Eena heard Ian’s hand smack against his forehead. She saw humor sweep over the Braetic’s face. It made her angry. “Dragons too, huh?” Cale snickered. “It’s the truth!” she insisted. (Eena, just forget it. You’re only making it worse.) She ignored her protector’s advice again. “Cale, I’m telling you the honest-to-goodness truth. Do you know the story of Wanyaka Cave? The red-gemmed prison and the two spirit sisters?” Completely out of patience, Ian broke into the conversation, rudely speaking over his queen. “We’ll be on our way now, sir. We apologize for trespassing.” With a big grin on his face, the Braetic offered a friendly alternative. “Why don’t the pair of you accompany me home. I’m sure my wife can round up some suitable clothing for you. Those immortals must have a ripe sense of humor, leaving you alone in the woods without any decent attire.” He caught a chuckle in his throat. “That is unless it was the dragons who took the shirt off your back.” “Dragons are immortals!” Eena snapped, as if any fool ought to know it. Ian flashed her a harsh look. “We would greatly appreciate the help, sir.” “Oh, it’ll cost you something,” Cale informed them, “but we can discuss that on our way.

When discussing the topic of substance abuse with kids, I explain that doing drugs in order to be high and happy means that people try to support being by doing. However, being is “bigger” than doing. I validate that people who use substances know on some level that they need to take care of their being but they have the order reversed because doing can never support being simply because the “smaller” thing can never support the “bigger” thing. It is as absurd as trying to support silence by increasing the noise. The right order of things is that being supports doing and doing needs to serve being. In chess, without the King, the other pieces would all be “dead”, so their existence is supported by the King, but they need to serve the King with their capacity for action in order to have a good game. But how do we begin to honor being if we are emotionally distressed or chemically dependent? We need to accept whatever facet of being we are going through—if we are sad, we need to experience our sadness and not run from it; if we are angry, we need to go through it without acting heedlessly; if we are scared, we have to pay attention to our fear and the reasons for it. Everything we go through is a message of being, and we need to decipher the message rather than run from it. I need to stress here the importance of learning to endure distress and let our emotions run their course without making a bad situation worse. The addicted brain needs to endure strong cravings for several years until the chemically reinforced neural pathways gradually subside in the absence of continued reinforcement. Here the words of the great poet and spiritual teacher Rumi come to mind: “Of all the cures God has provided, patience is the best.

From working with black males for more than a dozen years, I can say with confidence that many black males are both lazy and irresponsible. This view isn't popular with problem profiteers who blame all black woes upon white racism or poverty, but it is true, nonetheless. The young men I work with represent just the tip of the iceberg of a far larger laziness problem within the black male population. The typical black male I work with has no work ethic, has little sense of direction in his life, is hostile toward whites and women, has an attitude of entitlement, and has an amoral outlook on life. He has no strong male role model in his life to teach him the value of hard work, patience, self-control, and character. He is emotionally adrift and is nearly illiterate-either because he dropped out of school or because he's just not motivated enough to learn. Many of the black males I've worked with have had a "don't give a damn" attitude toward work and life and believe that "white America" owes them a living. They have no shame about going on welfare because they believe whites owe them for past discrimination and slavery. This absurd thinking results in a lifetime of laziness and blaming, while taxpayers pick up the tab for individuals who lack character and a strong work ethic. Frequently, blacks who attempt to enter the workforce often become problems for their employers. This is because they also have an entitlement mentality that puts little emphasis on working hard to get ahead. They expect to be paid for doing little work, often show up late, and have bad attitudes while on the job. They're so sensitized to "racism" that they feel abused by every slight, no matter if it's intentional, unconscious, or even based in reality.

My morning schedule saw me first in Cannan’s office, conferring with my advisor, but our meeting was interrupted within minutes by Narian, who entered without knocking and whose eyes were colder than I had seen them in a long time. “I thought you intended to control them,” he stated, walking toward the captain’s desk and standing directly beside the chair in which I sat.” He slammed a lengthy piece of parchment down on the wood surface, an unusual amount of tension in his movements. I glanced toward the open door and caught sight of Rava. She stood with one hand resting against the frame, her calculating eyes evaluating the scene while she awaited orders. Cannan’s gaze went to the parchment, but he did not reach for it, scanning its contents from a distance. Then he looked at Narian, unruffled. “I can think of a dozen or more men capable of this.” “But you know who is responsible.” Cannan sat back, assessing his opposition. “I don’t know with certainty any more than you do. In the absence of definitive proof of guilt on behalf of my son and his friends, I suggest you and your fellows develop a sense of humor.” Then the captain’s tone changed, becoming more forbidding. “I can prevent an uprising, Narian. This, you’ll have to get used to.” Not wanting to be in the dark, I snatched up the parchment in question. My mouth opened in shock and dismay as I silently read its contents, the men waiting for me to finish. On this Thirtieth Day of May in the First Year of Cokyrian dominance over the Province of Hytanica, the following regulations shall be put into practice in order to assist our gracious Grand Provost in her effort to welcome Cokyri into our lands--and to help ensure the enemy does not bungle the first victory it has managed in over a century. Regulation One. All Hytanican citizens must be willing to provide aid to aimlessly wandering Cokyrian soldiers who cannot on their honor grasp that the road leading back to the city is the very same road that led them away. Regulation Two. It is strongly recommended that farmers hide their livestock, lest the men of our host empire become confused and attempt to mate with them. Regulation Three. As per negotiated arrangements, crops grown on Hytanican soil will be divided with fifty percent belonging to Cokyri, and seventy-five percent remaining with the citizens of the province; Hytanicans will be bound by law to wait patiently while the Cokyrians attempt to sort the baffling deficiency in their calculations. Regulation Four. The Cokyrian envoys assigned to manage the planting and farming effort will also require Hytanican patience while they slowly but surely learn what is a crop and what is a weed, as well as left from right. Regulation Five. Though the Province Wall is a Cokyrian endeavor, it would be polite and understanding of Hytanicans to remind the enemy of the correct side on which to be standing when the final stone is laid, so no unfortunates may find themselves trapped outside with no way in. Regulation Six. When at long last foreign trade is allowed to resume, Hytanicans should strive to empathize with the reluctance of neighboring kingdoms to enter our lands, for Cokyri’s stench is sure to deter even the migrating birds. Regulation Seven. For what little trade and business we do manage in spite of the odor, the imposed ten percent tax may be paid in coins, sweets or shiny objects. Regulation Eight. It is regrettably prohibited for Hytanicans to throw jeers at Cokyrian soldiers, for fear that any man harried may cry, and the women may spit. Regulation Nine. In case of an encounter with Cokyrian dignitaries, the boy-invader and the honorable High Priestess included, let it be known that the proper way in which to greet them is with an ass-backward bow.

It was like a page out of the telephone book. Alphabetically, numerically, statistically, it made sense. But when you looked at it up close, when you examined the pages separately, or the parts separately, when you examined one lone individual and what constituted him, examined the air he breathed, the life he led, the chances he risked, you saw something so foul and degrading, so low, so miserable, so utterly hopeless and senseless, that it was worse than looking into a volcano. Outwardly it seems to be a beautiful honeycomb, with all the drones crawling over each other in a frenzy of work; inwardly it’s a slaughterhouse, each man killing off his neighbor and sucking the juice from his bones. Superficially it looks like a bold, masculine world; actually it’s a whorehouse run by women, with the native sons acting as pimps and the bloody foreigners selling their flesh... The whole continent is sound asleep and in that sleep a grand nightmare is taking place… At night the streets of New York reflect the crucifixion and death of Christ. When the snow is on the ground and there is the utmost silence there comes out of the hideous buildings of New York a music of such sullen despair and bankruptcy as to make the flesh shrivel. No stone was laid upon another with love or reverence; no street was laid for dance or joy. One thing has been added to another in a mad scramble to fill the belly, and the streets smell of empty bellies and full bellies and bellies half full. The streets smell of a hunger which has nothing to do with love; they smell of the belly which is insatiable and of the creations of the empty belly which are null and void. Just as the city itself had become a huge tomb in which men struggled to earn a decent death so my own life came to resemble a tomb which I was constructing out of my own death. I was walking around in a stone forest the center of which was chaos; sometimes in the dead center, in the very heart of chaos, I danced or drank myself silly, or I made love, or I befriended some one, or I planned a new life, but it was all chaos, all stone, and all hopeless and bewildering. Until the time when I would encounter a force strong enough to whirl me out of this mad stone forest no life would be possible for me nor could one page be written which would have meaning… Everybody and everything is a part of life... As an individual, as flesh and blood, I am leveled down each day to make the fleshless, bloodless city whose perfection is the sum of all logic and death to the dream. I am struggling against an oceanic death in which my own death is but a drop of water evaporating. To raise my own individual life but a fraction of an inch above this sinking sea of death I must have a faith greater than Christ’s, a wisdom deeper than that of the greatest seer. I must have the ability and the patience to formulate what is not contained in the language of our time, for what is now intelligible is meaningless. My eyes are useless, for they render back only the image of the known. My whole body must become a constant beam of light, moving with an ever greater rapidity, never arrested, never looking back, never dwindling. The city grows like a cancer; I must grow like a sun. The city eats deeper and deeper into the red; it is an insatiable white louse which must die eventually of inanition. I am going to starve the white louse which is eating me up. I am going to die as a city in order to become again a man. Therefore I close my ears, my eyes, my mouth. Infinitely better, as life moves toward a deathly perfection, to be just a bit of breathing space, a stretch of green, a little fresh air, a pool of water. Better also to receive men silently and to enfold them, for there is no answer to make while they are still frantically rushing to turn the corner.

Door: So spiritual direction is a slow process that looks idle and inefficient. Peterson: It's subversive. I'm a subversive, really. I gather the people in worship, I pray for them, I engage them often in matters of spiritual correction, and I take them on two really strong retreats a year. I am a true subversive. We live in a culture that we think is Christian. When a congregation gathers in a church, they assume they are among friends in a basically friendly world (with the exception of pornographers, etc.). If I, as their pastor, get up and tell them the world is not friendly and they are really idol worshippers, they think I'm crazy. This culture has twisted all of our metaphors and images and structures of understanding. But I can't say that directly. The only way that you can approach people is indirectly, obliquely. A head-on attack doesn't work. Jesus was the master of indirection. The parables are subversive. His hyperboles are indirect. There is a kind of outrageous quality to them that defies common sense, but later on the understanding comes. The largest poetic piece in the Bible, Revelation, is a subversive piece. Instead of (being) a three-point lecturer, the pastor is instead a storyteller and a pray-er. Prayer and story become the primary means by which you get past people's self-defense mechanisms. In my book, I say it this way: "I must remember that I am a subversive. My long-term effectiveness depends on my not being recognized for who I am as a pastor. If the church member actually realized that the American way of life is doomed to destruction and that another kingdom is right now being formed in secret to take its place, he wouldn't be pleased at all. If he knew what I was really doing and the difference it was making, he would fire me." True subversion requires patience. You slowly get cells of people who are believing in what you are doing, participating in it.

Another howl ruptured the quiet, still too far away to be a threat. The Beast Lord, the leader, the alpha male, had to enforce his position as much by will as by physical force. He would have to answer any challenges to his rule, so it was unlikely that he turned into a wolf. A wolf would have little chance against a cat. Wolves hunted in a pack, bleeding their victim and running them into exhaustion, while cats were solitary killing machines, designed to murder swiftly and with deadly precision. No, the Beast Lord would have to be a cat, a jaguar or a leopard. Perhaps a tiger, although all known cases of weretigers occurred in Asia and could be counted without involving toes. I had heard a rumor of the Kodiak of Atlanta, a legend of an enormous, battle-scarred bear roaming the streets in search of Pack criminals. The Pack, like any social organization, had its lawbreakers. The Kodiak was their Executioner. Perhaps his Majesty turned into a bear. Damn. I should have brought some honey. My left leg was tiring. I shifted from foot to foot . . . A low, warning growl froze me in midmove. It came from the dark gaping hole in the building across the street and rolled through the ruins, awakening ancient memories of a time when humans were pathetic, hairless creatures cowering by the weak flame of the first fire and scanning the night with frightened eyes, for it held monstrous hungry killers. My subconscious screamed in panic. I held it in check and cracked my neck, slowly, one side then another. A lean shadow flickered in the corner of my eye. On the left and above me a graceful jaguar stretched on the jutting block of concrete, an elegant statue encased in the liquid metal of moonlight. Homo Panthera onca. The killer who takes its prey in a single bound. Hello, Jim. The jaguar looked at me with amber eyes. Feline lips stretched in a startlingly human smirk. He could laugh if he wanted. He didn’t know what was at stake. Jim turned his head and began washing his paw. My saber firmly in hand, I marched across the street and stepped through the opening. The darkness swallowed me whole. The lingering musky scent of a cat hit me. So, not a bear after all. Where was he? I scanned the building, peering into the gloom. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the walls, creating a mirage of twilight and complete darkness. I knew he was watching me. Enjoying himself. Diplomacy was never my strong suit and my patience had run dry. I crouched and called out, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” Two golden eyes ignited at the opposite wall. A shape stirred within the darkness and rose, carrying the eyes up and up and up until they towered above me. A single enormous paw moved into the moonlight, disturbing the dust on the filthy floor. Wicked claws shot forth and withdrew. A massive shoulder followed, its gray fur marked by faint smoky stripes. The huge body shifted forward, coming at me, and I lost my balance and fell on my ass into the dirt. Dear God, this wasn’t just a lion. This thing had to be at least five feet at the shoulder. And why was it striped? The colossal cat circled me, half in the light, half in the shadow, the dark mane trembling as he moved. I scrambled to my feet and almost bumped into the gray muzzle. We looked at each other, the lion and I, our gazes level. Then I twisted around and began dusting off my jeans in a most undignified manner. The lion vanished into a dark corner. A whisper of power pulsed through the room, tugging at my senses. If I did not know better, I would say that he had just changed. “Kitty, kitty?” asked a level male voice. I jumped. No shapechanger went from a beast into a human without a nap. Into a midform, yes, but beast-men had trouble talking. “Yeah,” I said. “You’ve caught me unprepared. Next time I’ll bring cream and catnip toys.” “If there is a next time.

When We Want the Kind of Love That Pleases God Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails. 1 CORINTHIANS 13:4-8 GOD MAKES IT CRYSTAL CLEAR in His Word about the kind of love He wants us to have. Sometimes we may wish it weren’t so clear, because what is also clear is that we can’t express this kind of love on a consistent basis without His help. He wants us to have love that is shown in patience and kindness and is not possessive. Love that is not arrogant, rude, demanding, or selfish. Love that does not become irritable or grumpy, and does not keep a list of injustices. Love that believes for the best in others and not the worst, and is happy for their success and not their failure. Love that never gives up on the other person and endures through whatever happens. God not only wants you to have that kind of love for others, but He also wants you to have it for your husband. And He wants your husband to always exhibit that kind of love for you. How in the world do you find love within you like that? Do you have the kind of love in your heart that is never selfish or impatient? Do you have the kind of love that can endure anything and never doubt or lose hope? Only the love of God in you can accomplish all that through you. The way you access the flow of God’s love is by being in His presence—in prayer, praise, and worship. It comes by inviting the Holy Spirit to fill you afresh each day with His love and allowing His love to transform you. My Prayer to God LORD, I pray You would pour Your amazing, unconditional love into my heart and into my husband’s heart as well. Help us to love each other the way You love us. I know we don’t have it in us to do that on our own, but I also know Your Holy Spirit can fill us with Your love so that it overflows to each other. Enable us to have the kind of love that shows patience with each other, love that is kind and does good, love that doesn’t become possessive or jealous, love that is not arrogant and always trying to steal attention away from the other, love that is never rude or selfish, love that is not hostile or easily irritable, love that believes for the best and not the worst in each other, love that is not resentful and doesn’t keep a record of every offense, love that stands strong no matter what happens and doesn’t lose hope and faith, love that never gives up. Enable us to have love for each other that will not fail. Lord, You know what we are made of and how imperfect we are. We recognize we can’t begin to do this without Your working a miracle in our hearts. I ask for a continual flow of Your presence and love in our lives today and every day. Help us to have the kind of love for each other that pleases You. In Jesus’ name I pray.

Develop a rapid cadence. Ideal running requires a cadence that may be much quicker than you’re used to. Shoot for 180 footfalls per minute. Developing the proper cadence will help you achieve more speed because it increases the number of push-offs per minute. It will also help prevent injury, as you avoid overstriding and placing impact force on your heel. To practice, get an electronic metronome (or download an app for this), set it for 90+ beats per minute, and time the pull of your left foot to the chirp of the metronome. Develop a proper forward lean. With core muscles slightly engaged to generate a bracing effect, the runner leans forward—from the ankles, not from the waist. Land underneath your center of gravity. MacKenzie drills his athletes to make contact with the ground as their midfoot or forefoot passes directly under their center of gravity, rather than having their heels strike out in front of the body. When runners become proficient at this, the pounding stops, and the movement of their legs begins to more closely resemble that of a spinning wheel. Keep contact time brief. “The runner skims over the ground with a slithering motion that does not make the pounding noise heard by the plodder who runs at one speed,” the legendary coach Percy Cerutty once said.7 MacKenzie drills runners to practice a foot pull that spends as little time as possible on the ground. His runners aim to touch down with a light sort of tap that creates little or no sound. The theory is that with less time spent on the ground, the foot has less time to get into the kind of trouble caused by the sheering forces of excessive inward foot rolling, known as “overpronation.” Pull with the hamstring. To create a rapid, piston-like running form, the CFE runner, after the light, quick impact of the foot, pulls the ankle and foot up with the hamstring. Imagine that you had to confine your running stride to the space of a phone booth—you would naturally develop an extremely quick, compact form to gain optimal efficiency. Practice this skill by standing barefoot and raising one leg by sliding your ankle up along the opposite leg. Perform up to 20 repetitions on each leg. Maintain proper posture and position. Proper posture, MacKenzie says, shifts the impact stress of running from the knees to larger muscles in the trunk, namely, the hips and hamstrings. The runner’s head remains up and the eyes focused down the road. With the core muscles engaged, power flows from the larger muscles through to the extremities. Practice proper position by standing with your body weight balanced on the ball of one foot. Keep the knee of your planted leg slightly bent and your lifted foot relaxed as you hold your ankle directly below your hip. In this position, your body is in proper alignment. Practice holding this position for up to 1 minute on each leg. Be patient. Choose one day a week for practicing form drills and technique. MacKenzie recommends wearing minimalist shoes to encourage proper form, but not without taking care of the other necessary work. A quick changeover from motion-control shoes to minimalist shoes is a recipe for tendon problems. Instead of making a rapid transition, ease into minimalist shoes by wearing them just one day per week, during skill work. Then slowly integrate them into your training runs as your feet and legs adapt. Your patience will pay off.

To many who place their children in our schools, strong temptations will come because they desire them to secure what the world regards as the most essential education. To these I would say, Bring your children to the simplicity of the word, and they will be safe. This Book is the foundation of all true knowledge. The highest education they can receive is to learn how to add to their “faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; and to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity.

Today, some viewers who seek or expect constructions of female identity that cohere with expectations for a strong, independent woman who can take care of herself and save others have less patience with uncomplicated stereotypical representations of the utterly helpless female, no matter the genre. (9)

Jesus would never allow His disciples to be in a panic. The one great crime on the part of a disciple, according to Jesus Christ, is worry. Whenever we begin to calculate without God we commit sin. “Do not fret—it only causes harm” (Psalm 37:8).

✓the ancient ritual of the earth; ploughing and planting, reaping and threshing. The fundamental business remains unaltered; it is only the methods and tools that science is changing. ✓If you want good roses, sharpen your knife and harden your heart. ✓much of gardening is a struggle against the fecundity of Nature ✓New words are always being born and old ones fading away. ✓Winter sunshine is a fairy wand touching everything with a strange magic. It is like the smile of a friend in time of sorrow.

In his peroration Cyprian shows his stature as a rhetorician: “It is this patience which strongly fortifies the foundations of our faith. It is this patience which sublimely promotes the growth of hope. It directs our action, so that we can keep to the way of Christ while we make progress because of His forbearance. It ensures our perseverance as sons of God while we imitate the patience of the Father.”94

As contradictory as it seems, our societies are built on bonds and silence. Our joys are loud and our grief demonstrative. Our voices are strong and our laughter thunderous, but rarely do we say a word about our private lives. We do not have as many taboos as people claim, but messages are blurred by esoteric interpretations. Abi is in tune with her era. My grandson, Max, even more so. They demand answers, all sorts of explanations. They ascribe virtues of all sorts to transparency, which they label truth, and have no patience for pretence. Where do they get this strength from, this confidence that I envy, this arrogance? We are so much more than the sum of our parts. Our grey areas would not stand the light. What world would survive the systematic exposure of everyone’s secrets? This is blasphemy in Abi and Max's eyes. I understand them. I have long thought that there are instances where silence buttresses the bond better than baneful truths. I am not so sure anymore.

It would take one who is quite weak in faith to think he should only eat vegetables. Yet Paul says to bear with him, even though our tendency may be to look down on that individual, or perhaps even try to correct them, and often so in a condescending manner. But, Paul does add that we should not embrace the thinking for ourselves (v. 1b). Bearing with him carries the idea that we extend as much patience as is needed towards our weaker brothers and sisters, while still staying strong in faith ourselves.

On Earth I have known lords, kings, men who were counted great; but next to him they were children, or toys that children play with. And yet he seemed more human, not less; there was no taint of Elvinkind about him. In him all things that are best in us - love, faith, courage, Patience, generosity - were strong; but he had burned out all lesser passions in fires I dared not imagine.

The weakest soul, knowing its own weakness, and believing this truth - that strength can only be developed by effort and practice, will at once begin to exert itself, and adding effort to effort, patience to patience, and strength to strength, will never cease to develop, and will at last grow divinely strong.

Eventually, the boy reaches the threshold of his grandmother's patience, and when the carrot doesn't work, she reaches for the stick to impose her will upon him. Like many grandparents and their parents before them, she crosses the line of respect for his choice and adds punishment—in this case, guilt and shaming, which is the second tool of domestication. “Do you know how many children don't have anything to eat around the world? They are starving! And here you are, wasting your food. It's a sin to waste food!” Now the young boy is concerned. He doesn't want to look like a selfish child, and he really doesn't want to be seen as a sinner in his grandmother's eyes. With a sense of defeat, he relents and subjugates his will. “OK, Grandma, I will finish my soup.” He begins to eat again, and he doesn't stop until the bowl is empty. Then, with the tenderness that makes her grandson feel safe and loved, Grandma says, “That's my good boy.” The boy learns that by complying with the rules of the dream, he can earn a reward; in this case, he is a good boy in the eyes of his grandmother and receives her love and encouragement. The punishment would have been to be seen as a selfish child, a sinner in her eyes, and a bad boy. This is a simple example of domestication in action. No one doubts that the grandmother has the best of intentions; she loves her grandson and wants him to eat his lunch, but the method she is using to achieve that goal has negative unintended consequences. Anytime guilt and shame are deployed as tools to provoke action, this counters any good that has been achieved. Eventually, these negative elements will resurface in one way or another. In this case, let's imagine that when this boy grows up, the domestication that occurred around this issue is so strong that it still has an imposing power over him well into adulthood. For instance, many years later he goes into a restaurant where they serve a big plate of food, and halfway through his meal his body signals to him the truth of that moment: I am full. Consciously, or subconsciously, he hears a voice: It's a sin to waste food. Consciously, or subconsciously, he answers Yes, Grandma, and continues to eat. Finishing his plate like a good boy, he responds to his domestication rather than his needs of the moment. In that instant, he completely goes against himself by continuing to eat after his body has already let him know that he is full. The idea is so strong that it overrules his body's natural preference to stop. Overeating may damage his body, which is one of the negative consequences in this case of using guilt and shame as a tool. The other consequence is that he is experiencing internal suffering by reliving a past moment of guilt and shame, and it is controlling his actions in the present.

It lives in my imagination strongly that the black oak is pleased to be a black oak. I mean all of them, but in particular one tree that leads me into Blackwater, that is as shapely as a flower, that I have often hugged and put my lips to. Maybe it is a hundred years old. And who knows what it dreamed of in the first springs of its life, escaping the cottontail’s teeth and everything dangerous else. Who knows when supreme patience took hold, and the wind’s wandering among its leaves was enough of motion, of travel.

Nature loves us so much. But like all strong love, it has to be paid back one way or another. The pleasure must be balanced with the pain inflicted.

Patience keeps the relationship healthy, strong and happy. Sometimes, just allowing your partner to be themselves means everything. - From (The Awakening)

Faith confession for your hair to grow and for hair loss to be reversed: "I declare in faith that my hair will grow long, strong, and healthy, and that all fallen hair will be replaced. I trust that God will restore my hair and scalp to perfect health, and that I will experience abundant growth without any further hair loss. I believe that God's divine healing power is at work in my body, and that my hair will be a testament to His goodness and love for me. In Jesus' name, I receive this healing and blessing, and I thank Him for His faithfulness." Remember to hold on to this confession with faith and patience, trusting that God's power and love are at work in your life. Keep seeking Him and His guidance, and believe that He is working for your good.

I discovered for myself that in order to succeed, all the right ingredients need to be in place: The right knowledge A strong desire to succeed Discipline Persistence Patience A willingness to make mistakes An ability to acknowledge mistakes quickly An inclination to learn from mistakes A willingness to try again The ability to feel comfortable with success, and to feel deserving of it And a supportive belief structure about myself, about money, and about success

Where was he? I scanned the building, peering into the gloom. Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the walls, creating a mirage of twilight and complete darkness. I knew he was watching me. Enjoying himself. Diplomacy was never my strong suit and my patience had run dry. I crouched and called out, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.

True love is like a tower house; this one requires strong pillars and foundation to withstand windstorms. And the mains of these pillars are patience and sacrifice!

Nevertheless, it ought not to be concluded from the above that Hufflepuffs are dimwits or duffers, though they have been cruelly caricatured that way on occasion. Several outstanding brains have emerged from Hufflepuff House over the centuries; these fine minds simply happened to be allied to outstanding qualities of patience, a strong work ethic and constancy, all traditional hallmarks of Hufflepuff House.

God has given you two methods, two powers, or two abilities that automatically make your life, life, like love; thus, everything called failure or defeat becomes meaningless; one is patience, and the other is gratitude; patience makes you strong, and gratitude makes you satisfied.

The activism and advocacy geared towards bringing greater visibility, influence and authority of women are not against men (somehow this perception thrives). The role of men can never be disqualified or diminished. We have to work with them – with patience and perseverance. We also have to raise feminist kids so that they could internalize the benefits of having strong and skilled women in society and family. The goal of gender equality, then, would not remain a distant dream for a vast majority of women including minority gender.

Horses can only gallop full out for a couple of miles. They can go a long way in a day. But they’re not tireless. In fact, the animal with the greatest endurance is a human. You could run a horse into the ground if you had unlimited time and distance to chase it. We’re not as fast as them, or as strong. But there’s no creature more tenacious than we are. Star will tire before I do. I knew that before we started. And that’s why I already knew the outcome of this struggle. There was no battle between Star and me. I already knew who would win. That’s why I approached her with gentleness and patience. I wasn’t afraid of her or afraid she might beat me. I only had to show her that I’m not her enemy, not her adversary.

The complexity or otherwise of the entrance to the common rooms might be said to give a very rough idea of the intellectual reputation of each house: Hufflepuff has an unchanging portal and requires rhythmic tapping; Slytherin and Gryffindor have doorways that challenge the would-be entrant about equally, the former having an almost imperceptible hidden entrance and a varying password, the latter having a capricious guardian and frequently changing passwords. In keeping with its reputation as the house of the most agile minds at Hogwarts, the door to the Ravenclaw common room presents a fresh intellectual or philosophical challenge every time a person knocks on it. Nevertheless, it ought not to be concluded from the above that Hufflepuffs are dimwits or duffers, though they have been cruelly caricatured that way on occasion. Several outstanding brains have emerged from Hufflepuff house over the centuries; these fine minds simply happened to be allied to outstanding qualities of patience, a strong work ethic and constancy, all traditional hallmarks of Hufflepuff House.

Your big enemy lives inside you, and it is your anger. Your best friend also resides inside you, and it is your patience. First, one shows your weakness and narrowness, and another one shows your strongness and broadness.

Patience is My Power *** I stand open To every person I live far from pretentious I escape from such plays What I feel and imagine I write that The exact thought Since I honor the truth I speak the truth Whereas I am also strong To bear All the bitter and critical Conducts and attitudes Of the people I avoid the quarrel I face all awkward faces With only my glory And gifted power The patience That breaks my anger That enlightens my vision That heals, The wounds of my soul That inspires the calm That washes with the tears My heart and mind To display a smile Upon my lips I always win By holding the patience The cost less Fragrance and waves Of my entity and conception.

We who are strong in the faith ought to help the weak to carry their burdens. ... Everything written in the Scriptures was written to teach us, in order that we might have hope through the patience and encouragement which the Scriptures give us.

Three things differentiate living from the soul versus living from ego only. They are: the ability to sense and learn new ways, the tenacity to ride a rough road, and the patience to learn deep love over time. The ego, however, has a penchant and a proclivity to avoid learning. Patience is not ego’s strong suit. Enduring in relationship is not Raven’s forte. So it is not from the ever- changing ego that we love another, but rather from the wild soul.

Keera approached the jury railing but did not touch it, giving the jurors deference and respect. She wanted the jurors to know she considered them the most important people in the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I want to thank you for your patience. The State put on its witnesses and hopes the testimony, and the documents admitted, will convince you my client, Jenna Bernstein, killed Sirus Kohl beyond any reasonable doubt. Beyond any reasonable doubt is the highest standard of proof the State must meet in a criminal trial. It means no other logical explanation can be derived from the facts, thereby overcoming a defendant’s very strong presumption of innocence. It does not mean no doubt exists, but it does require the State’s evidence be so conclusive that you do not have a reasonable doubt.

On one occasion, after a particularly long spell away from home, I got Shara to fly into the mountains we were filming in. “Bring the boys, my love, I miss you.” That night, I hitched a lift with the crew, jumped into the helicopter that was extracting them back to base, and went to the lodge they were staying in. Shara was there, waiting. I spent the night in my family’s arms and went back to film the next day. Reckless, I know. But the press got wind of it, as they do, and they went for the jugular. It made for a killer headline. I totally understood. But who hasn’t made the odd mistake? In hindsight, it was more than reckless--it was an error, and it opened a can of worms for the papers to feed on. But, for the record, it had been total heaven to see Shara and the boys. So which do I value more--being a hero or being a father? There’s a third option, Bear. It is called patience. I know. It is never my strong point. So this was another moment that could have sunk the show, but Channel 4 and Discovery backed me. They knew all too well how hard I work and the risks I take every day. And the best response to the critics was the show’s subsequent runaway success.

If state rights and laissez faire meant an end to force bills, removal of Federal troops from Southern state capitals, and abandonment of intervention in local politics and race discriminations, the South was for them strong. On the other hand the South had no patience with state rights and laissez faire if they implied abandonment of Federal subsidies, loans of credit, and internal improvements. Of these the South believed she had not had anything like her just share and she meant to have a lot more.

On the natural level we tend to neglect the privilege of prayer until we encounter sufferings or difficulty of some kind. We often need to be driven to real prayer by the circumstances that surround us. Dwight L. Moody was fond of pointing out that there are three kinds of faith in Jesus Christ: struggling faith, which is like a man floundering and fearful in deep water; clinging faith, which is like a man hanging to the side of a boat; and resting faith, which finds a man safe inside the boat—strong and secure enough to reach out his hand to help someone else. That is the sort of faith you and I have to acquire in order to be effective as Christians—and such faith may be ours through the ministry of suffering in our lives. Suffering also teaches us patience. These words were found penned on the wall of a prison cell in Europe: “I believe in the sun even when it is not shining. I believe in love even when I don’t feel it. I believe in God even when He is silent.

Young dancers have a beautiful, strong, flexible, and resilient body. And they have the fire of hope in their heart. However, the fire can be a bit feral like a young alley cat. It can go everywhere, in all directions, willy-nilly. It can turn all claws and spitting or it can get nervous and run away. It pretends things that aren’t true and is afraid of showing what is true. The older cat bides his time. He has patience. He pulls the fire inside and lets it smoulder. He doesn’t waste his energy on fights not worth the battle or where the casualties would be greater than the goal. He owns his failures like scars that say it would be wise to take him seriously. He is not ashamed of his loves. He values his spirit and lets it grow. It’s in the eyes. The body may move less but it has presence and a power of a different sort. It is authentic.

The enthusiastic massacre began once more. She did love the children. Children were one of her small joys, even when they were fiends to each other; even when they imagined they were hiding things from her, like their own idleness or, in some cases, their talent. Children were smart and malleable. Time and patience made them strong and stopped them fearing her or adoring her too much. And their frustrations were familiar to her, and dear. But, she thought, at the end of the day I must give them back. They’re not my children—someone else feeds them and tells them stories. I’ll never have children.

Vane watched her reaction from under heavy lids, watched flaring passion light her eyes. Sparks of pure gold flashed in the hazel depths as he gently kneaded, then sent his fingers gliding over her silken skin. He knew he should kiss her, distract her, from what came next- but the compulsion to witness, to know her reaction as she learned what he would do, as he filled his senses with her, waxed strong.

Hauling in a quick breath, she held it, stretched upward, shut her eyes, and fleetingly touched her lips to his. They were as hard as she'd imagined, very like sculpted marble. Sensation flared at the brief contact; her lips tingled, then throbbed. Patience blinked her eyes wide as she lowered her heels to earth. And refocused on his lips. She saw the ends curve upward, heard his low, wickedly teasing laugh. "Still not right. Here- let me show you." His hands came up to frame her face, her jaw, tilting her lips up as his descended. Of their own volition, her lids fell, then his lips touched hers. Patience couldn't have quelled the shudder that passed through her had her life depended on it. Stunned, poised to resist, she mentally paused. Strong, sure, his lips covered hers, moving slowly, languorously, as if savoring her taste, her texture. There was nothing threatening in the unhurried caress. Indeed, it was beguiling, luring her senses, focusing them on the practiced slide and glide of cool lips which seemed to instinctively know how to soothe the heat rising in hers. Hers throbbed; his pressed, caressed, as if drinking in her heat, stealing it from her. Patience felt her lips soften; his firmed in response. 'No, no, noo....' Some small part of her mind tried to warn her, but she was long past listening. This was new, novel- she'd never felt such sensations before. Never known such simple delight existed. Her head was whirling, but not unpleasantly. His lips still seemed hard, cool- Patience couldn't resist the temptation to return the pressure, to see if his lips would soften to hers. They didn't, they only became harder. The next instant, she felt a searing heat sweep over her lips. She stilled; the questing heat returned- with the tip of his tongue, he traced her lower lip. The contact lingered, an unspoken question. Patience wanted more. She parted her lips. His tongue slid between, slowly, with his customary assured arrogance, quite certain of his welcome, confident in his expertise.

She should, of course, feel scandalized, or at the very least, shocked. Yet whenever she allowed herself to recall all that had happened, sweet pleasure washed through her, leaving her skin tingling and her breasts deliciously warm. Her "shock" was exciting, thrilling, an enticing reaction, not one of revulsion. She should feel guilty, yet whatever guilt she possessed was swamped beneath a compulsion to know, to experience, and an intense recollection of how much she'd enjoyed that particular experience. Lips firming, she set a stitch. Curiosity- it was her curse, her bane, the cross she had to bear. She knew it. Unfortunately, knowing didn't quell the impulse. This time, curiosity was prompting her to waltz with a wolf- a dangerous enterprise. For the last two days, she'd watched him, waiting for the pounce she'd convinced herself would come, but he'd behaved like a lamb- a ridiculously strong, impossibly arrogant, not to say masterful lamb, but with a guileless newborn innocence, as if a halo had settled over his burnished locks.

We'll just take things one step at a time. And if it turns out that I am not able to teach you adequately, we will consult with Monsieur Girouard.” “No dancing master,” Zachary said gruffly, having taken an instant dislike to the man. He had watched the dance lessons with Elizabeth the previous morning and had strongly resisted Girouard's mistaken attempt to include him in the instructions. Holly sighed as if her patience were being strained. “Your sister likes him well enough,” she pointed out. “Monsieur Girouard is a very talented dancing master.” “He tried to hold my hand.” “I assure you, it was with no other intention than to lead you through the steps of a quadrille.” “I don't hold hands with other men,” Zachary said. “And that little frog-eater looked like he was going to enjoy it.

Tonight, with the umite candle burning low, she turned to her favorite entry in the journal and read Patton’s familiar handwriting: Having returned scant hours ago from a singular adventure, I now find myself unable to suppress the urge to impart my thoughts. I have seldom considered whom I intend to read the covert information compiled in this record. Upon the occasions when I have paid heed to the matter, I have vaguely concluded that I was jotting these notations for myself. But I am now aware that these words will reach an audience, and that her name is Kendra Sorenson. Kendra, I find this realization both thrilling and foreboding. You face challenging times. Some of the knowledge I possess could aid you. Regrettably, much of that same knowledge could usher you into unspeakable danger. I keep staging vigorous internal debates in the attempt to discern what information will grant you an advantage over your enemies and what information might further imperil your situation. Much of what I know has the potential to cause more harm than good. Your enemies among the Society of the Evening Star will balk at nothing to obtain the five artifacts that together can open Zzyzx, the great demon prison. At the time I left you, to our knowledge, they had acquired only one artifact, while your able grandfather retained another. I have information about two of the artifacts that you lack, and could probably acquire more knowledge with some effort. And yet I hesitate to share. If you or others try to pursue or guard the artifacts, you might inadvertently lead our enemies to them. Or you could be harmed in the attempt to retrieve them. Conversely, if the Sphinx is in avid pursuit of the artifacts, I am inclined to believe that he will eventually succeed. Under certain circumstances, it would benefit our cause for you to have my knowledge in order to keep the artifacts out of his grasp. Therefore, Kendra, I have elected to rely on your judgment. I will not include the specifics in this journal, for who could resist such temptingly convenient access, regardless of that person’s integrity? But in the hidden chamber beyond the Hall of Dread I will disguise further details regarding the hiding places of two of the artifacts. Unearth that information only if you find it becomes absolutely necessary. Otherwise, do not even mention that such knowledge exists. Use discretion and patience and courage. My hope is that the information will lie dormant for your whole lifetime. If not, information about the location of the hidden chamber awaits elsewhere in this journal. Go to the chamber and use a mirror to find the message on the ceiling. Kendra, I wish I could be there to help you. Your loved ones are strong and capable. Put your trust where it belongs and make smart decisions. Keep that brother of yours in line. I am grateful to have such an exemplary niece. Drumming

Your big enemy lives inside you, and it is your anger. Your best friend also resides inside you, and it is your patience. First, one shows your weakness and narrowness, and another one shows your strongness and broadness. Ehsan Sehgal +

Why, then, do you wonder that good men are shaken in order that they may grow strong? No tree becomes rooted and sturdy unless many a wind assails it. For by its very tossing it tightens its grip and plants its roots more securely; the fragile trees are those that have grown in a sunny valley. It is, therefore, to the advantage even of good men, to the end that they may be unafraid, to live constantly amidst alarms and to bear with patience the happenings which are ills to him only who ill supports them.

We gonna be a family again in Heaven. It takes some strong patience, but the Lord will come through. And as long as we here, we can get on living by never forgetting. Never forgetting and always remembering.

James 1:2-4 I will be happy when the way is rough, because it gives my patience a chance to grow. So I will let it grow, and not try to squirm out of my problems. For when my patience is finally in full bloom, then I will be ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete.

Rovio’s success story comes with a strong warning: Do you have the patience and grit to tough out the hard times? Rovio almost didn’t; their success was far from overnight. In fact, Angry Birds was the company’s forty-fifth attempt at creating a successful mobile app game. They failed forty-four times before. Some businesses just don’t have the patience or toughness, to say nothing of financial capital, to endure that slog. Does yours?

Patience is an ever present alternative to the mind’s endemic restlessness and impatience. Scratch the surface of impatience and what you will find lying beneath it, subtly or not so subtly, is anger. It’s the strong energy of not wanting things to be the way they are and blaming someone (often yourself) or something for it.

I gasped as his aura rolled over mine. All I could see was gold. I felt his aura. I’d been thinking that it was sunlight, but it really was like the sun. Warm. Kind. He had this deep well of patience and respect for others that I wasn’t sure I had. It was beautiful. My mother had always told me to look for a good man. I never really knew what she meant, but I did now. Lucas was a good man. A really good, tenderhearted, strong man. And

day, the trigger was an older woman with deep wrinkles. To this day, I cannot be certain about what caused her to react so strongly. Perhaps she had used up her patience simmering in the sun for hours at the back of the line. Perhaps she had some desperately hungry grandchildren who she needed to get back to. It is impossible to know exactly what happened. But after she received her allocation of wheat, she broke the established rules of the feeding site and moved toward Bubba. She looked up at him and unleashed a verbal attack. Bubba, as gentle as ever, simply smiled at her. The more he smiled, the angrier she got. I noticed the commotion when our Somali guards suddenly tensed and turned toward the disturbance. All I could see was Bubba, head and shoulders above a gathering crowd, seemingly unperturbed, and smiling down at someone. His patient response only fueled the woman’s rage. I heard her sound of fury long before I spotted the source when she launched a long stream of vile curses at Bubba. Thankfully, he didn’t understand a word that she was saying. It was now possible to understand her complaint. She was upset about the quality of the “animal feed” that was being distributed for human consumption. She was probably right in her assessment of the food. These were surplus agricultural products that United Nations contributing members didn’t want, couldn’t sell, and had no other use for. As this hulking American continued to smile, the woman realized that she was not communicating. Now, furious and frustrated, she bent down, set her plastic bag on the ground, grabbed two fistfuls of dirty, broken wheat, grain dust, dirt and chaff. She straightened to her full height and flung the filthy mixture as hard as she could into Bubba’s face. The crowd was deathly silent as I heard a series of loud metallic clicks that indicated that an entire squad of American soldiers had instinctively locked and loaded all weapons in readiness for whatever might happen next. Everything felt frozen in time as everyone waited and watched for Bubba’s reaction. A Somali man might have beaten the woman for such a public insult—and he would have considered his action and his anger entirely justified. I knew that Bubba had traveled half-way around the world at his own expense to spend three months of personal vacation time to help hurting people. And this was the thanks that he received? He was hot, sweaty, and drained beyond exhaustion—and he had just been publicly embarrassed. He had every reason to be absolutely livid. Instead, he raised one hand to rub the grit out of his eyes, and then he gave the woman one more big smile. At that point, he began to sing. And what he sang wasn’t just any song. She didn’t understand the words, of course. But she, and the entire crowd, stood in silent amazement as Bubba belted out the words to the 1950’s Elvis Presley rock-n-roll classic: You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog Cryin’ all the time You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog Cryin’ all the time Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit And you ain’t no friend of mine. By the time he started singing the next verse, the old woman had turned and stomped off in frustration, angrily plowing a path through the now-smiling crowd of Somalis to make her escape. Watching her go, Bubba raised his voice to send her off with rousing rendition of the final verse: Well they said you was high-classed Well, that was just a lie Ya know they said you was high-classed Well, that was just a lie Well, you ain’t never caught a rabbit And you ain’t no friend of mine.

FEBRUARY 24 MY POWER AND MIGHT WILL SCATTER THE ENEMY MY POWER AND might will deliver you from your enemies. I will be a fortress for you against brutal people who attack you and want to kill you. Do not fear when they are ready to attack. I am the Lord God All-Powerful, and I will be your protection. Why are you so frightened when they plan their nighttime attacks with curses and confidence that no one can hear them? Have I not told you that My mighty power will make them tremble and fall? Don’t you know? Haven’t you heard? I am your eternal God, Creator of the earth, and I never get weary or tired. I give strength to those who are weary, so that you will be strong like an eagle soaring upward on wings. PSALM 59:1–12; ISAIAH 40:10–11, 28–31 Prayer Declaration Father, You have given to me the same great and mighty power that You used to defeat my enemies. Your power raised up Your Son from the dead, and I have access to that power to overcome all my enemies and live victoriously through You. Your glorious power will give me patience and strength to be victorious over Satan’s evil intentions.

You must not fear that clutching at your dreams will shatter them so they run through your fingers like sand. That way lies a life spent in yearning. But yearning is only a season of dreaming, for dreams, if nurtured, become strong.

Those who have patience for the sake of Allah and by the help of Allah are those who are strong and achieve much. Those who have patience for the sake of Allah, but not by the help of Allah, are good people, but weak and helpless. Those who have patience by the help of Allah, but not for the sake of Allah, are capable, but evil. Those who have neither patience for the sake of Allah nor by the help of Allah are doomed to failure.

promoting human emotions like love, forgiveness, compassion, understanding, empathy, loyalty and patience. Kapha-dominant people are tenacious but calm, strong but loving and are blessed with wise tolerance. But, when this energy is out of balance, it can result in obesity, diabetes, insecurity, sinus problems and gallbladder diseases.

Deliver me, O my God, out of the hand of the sinner, * and out of the hand of the transgressor of the law and of the unjust. 70:6 For thou art my patience, O Lord: * my hope, O Lord, from my youth. 70:7 By thee have I been confirmed from the womb: * from my mother's womb thou art my protector. 70:8 Of thee shall I continually sing: * I am become unto many as a wonder, but thou art a strong helper.

March 4 MORNING “My grace is sufficient for thee.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9 IF none of God’s saints were poor and tried, we should not know half so well the consolations of divine grace. When we find the wanderer who has not where to lay his head, who yet can say, “Still will I trust in the Lord;” when we see the pauper starving on bread and water, who still glories in Jesus; when we see the bereaved widow overwhelmed in affliction, and yet having faith in Christ, oh! what honour it reflects on the gospel. God’s grace is illustrated and magnified in the poverty and trials of believers. Saints bear up under every discouragement, believing that all things work together for their good, and that out of apparent evils a real blessing shall ultimately spring — that their God will either work a deliverance for them speedily, or most assuredly support them in the trouble, as long as He is pleased to keep them in it. This patience of the saints proves the power of divine grace. There is a lighthouse out at sea: it is a calm night — I cannot tell whether the edifice is firm; the tempest must rage about it, and then I shall know whether it will stand. So with the Spirit’s work: if it were not on many occasions surrounded with tempestuous waters, we should not know that it was true and strong; if the winds did not blow upon it, we should not know how firm and secure it was. The master-works of God are those men who stand in the midst of difficulties, stedfast, unmoveable, — “Calm mid the bewildering cry, Confident of victory.” He who would glorify his God must set his account upon meeting with many trials. No man can be illustrious before the Lord unless his conflicts be many. If then, yours be a much-tried path, rejoice in it, because you will the better show forth the all-sufficient grace of God. As for His failing you, never dream of it — hate the thought. The God who has been sufficient until now, should be trusted to the end.

Allah has made patience like a horse that never gets tired, an army that can never be defeated and a strong fortress that can never be breached. Patience and victory are twin brothers, for victory comes with patience, relief comes with distress and ease comes with hardship.

It takes courage to chase a dream. Raw, unfettered, lion-hearted, caution-to-the-wind courage. It takes confidence and patience and perseverance too. And lest we forget, there will be tears. Whether proverbial or actual, we shed our blood, sweat, and tears in pursuit of these dreams. We give our everything. And then we give more. Frustration. Failure. Fight for it and forward. It takes all these things to chase a dream.

the bathroom down the hall, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it, not knowing whom she’d run into and when. Indoor plumbing seemed unnecessary anyway. Getting water from the well and using the outdoor toilet was easy enough. But that shower, now that was a thing of beauty! She took the brush from the cabinet and let loose her single braid, as thick and long as the grasses that stood by the river back home. She shook her head so that her black hair fell loose, then brushed it, slowly and carefully, treating it as if every inch held a story. One stroke and then another, until it was smooth and silky, like the pajamas she slept in. They were different from the ones she wore at home, which she had made for herself. The stitching was too regular, too perfect to have been made by a young woman’s hand. Obviously, they were made by machine, like everything in Kabul. When Sunny had presented the room to her, she had been particularly proud of the full-length mirror that was framed in a shiny dark wood and sat on its own four legs. But Yazmina thought of it as vanity and had turned it away once Sunny had departed. Today, though, she turned it to face her. She put her hands on her stomach, where the life inside was growing with each new day, and looked at herself. She pulled the sleeping gown over her head, removed her undergarments, and there was her body, which she was seeing naked, in full, for the first time in her life. She was slim, her legs long and lean, her right leg still red and scraped from knee to thigh where she had fallen on the pebbled road when she was pushed out of the car. Her arms were slender but muscled from daily chores, still bruised by the rough grip of strong hands. She looked at her breasts, which were larger than usual because of her condition, but nothing like the long, low ones of Halajan, the old busybody who lived next door to the café and had an opinion about everything. Yazmina thought that woman had been sent by God himself to test her patience. No, Yazmina’s breasts were still “as glowing and round as the midnight moon,” as Najam used to tell her. She saddened at the memory of her husband’s face, his kisses and his touch. She would never feel such sweetness again. But she was with his baby. She turned to the side to look at her belly and stroked it with her two hands. She took a deep breath as if the air would give her all she and her baby needed to thrive. This will be my baby, she thought, my Najam, or if a girl, Inshallah, God willing, Najama (for Yazmina was convinced it was a girl, perhaps because it was Najam’s wish to have many children—a son or two, of course, but also a daughter who had the same light in her eyes as Yazmina). Not only would the baby be named after her father, but she would be a star lighting up the night sky, as the name meant. Najam’s seed was part of her, and she would cherish it and die trying to protect it.

I don’t know about you, but I cannot simply muster up more love. I can’t manufacture patience just by gritting my teeth and determining to be more patient. We are not strong or good enough, and it doesn’t work that way. None of us can “do goodness” on our own, much less all the other elements that make up the fruit of the Spirit. [...] Instead of mustering up more willpower, let’s focus our energies and time on asking for help from the One who has the power to change us.

What honor is granted to Patience, to have God as her Debtor! And not without reason: for she keeps all His decrees; she has to do with all His mandates. She fortifies faith; is the pilot of peace; assists charity; establishes humility; waits long for repentance; sets her seal on confession; rules the flesh; preserves the spirit; bridles the tongue; restrains the hand; tramples temptations under foot; drives away scandals; gives their crowning grace to martyrdoms; consoles the poor; teaches the rich moderation; overstrains not the weak; exhausts not the strong; is the delight of the believer; invites the Gentile; commends the servant to his lord, and his lord to God; adorns the woman; makes the man approved; is loved in childhood, praised in youth, looked up to in age; is beauteous in either sex, in every time of life.

This time he had as badly misunderstood Itale, when all the young man was doing was clinging desperately to the last fragments of pride. It was always pride with these two; their strength and patience, their violence and vulnerability, all came down to pride, to the resistance of the will to the insults and indifference of time. Resistance, never acceptance. They gave with open hands, but they had never learned to receive. Guide’s somber temper had turned ardent in the son, but the root of it still was pride and pain. The world is a hard place for the strong, Emanuel thought; it gives no quarter; no man ever defied evil and got off lightly.

The clearest evidence that God’s grace is at work in our hearts is that we do not get into panics.

The Rooster taught me to wake up early and be a leader. The Butterfly encouraged me to allow a period of struggles to develop strong and look beautiful. The Squirrel showed me to be alert and fast all the time. The Dog influenced me to give up my life for my best friend. The Cat told me to exercise every day. Otherwise, I will be lazy and crazy. The Fox illustrated me to be subtle and keep my place organized and neat. The Snake demonstrated to me to hold my peace even if I am capable of attack, harm, or kill. The Monkey stimulated me to be vocal and communicate. The Tiger cultivated me to be active and fast. The Lion cultured me not to be lazy especially if I have strength and power that could be used. The Eagle was my sample for patience, beauty, courage, bravery, honor, pride, grace, and determination. The Rat skilled me to find my way out no matter what or how long it takes. The Chameleon revealed to me the ability to change my color for beauty and protection. The Fish display to live in peace even if I have to live a short life. The Delphin enhanced me to be the source of kindness, peace, harmony, and protection. The Shark enthused me to live as active and restful as I can be. The Octopus exhibited me to be silent and intelligent. The Elephant experienced me with the value of cooperation and family. To care for others and respect elders. The Pig indicated to me to act smart, clean, and shameless. The Panda appears to me as life is full of white and black times but my thick fur will enable me to survive. The Kangaroo enthused me to live with pride even if I am unable to walk backward. The Penguin influenced me to never underestimate a person. The Deer reveals the ability to sense the presence of hunters before they sense you. The Turtle brightened me to realize that I will get there no matter how long it takes me while having a shell of protection above me. The Rabbit reassured me to allow myself to be playful and silly. The Bat proved to me that I can fly even in darkness. The Alligator/crocodile alerted me that threat exists. The Ant moved me to be organized, active, and social with others. The Bee educated me to be the source of honey and cure for others. The Horse my best intelligent friend with who I bond. Trained me to recover fast from tough conditions. The Whale prompted me to take care of my young ones and show them life abilities. The Crab/Lobster enlightened me not to follow them when they make resolutions depending on previous undesirable events.

It’s a riptide. You don’t fight the current Rachel, that’s how even strong swimmers exhaust themselves and die. Swim parallel to the coast instead. The ocean’s gonna get bored of you eventually, she’ll let you go if you’re patient enough and don’t fight her.

I must believe there was some purpose, even if I sometimes regret that I was not given a stronger virtue, like courage or determination.” “Mercy’s a strong virtue,” said Inge wryly. “At any rate, it’s better than obedience or patience.

Your security and safety are paramount," he says. "They come first." "Meaning..." Now I have all his attention. "Technically, I am the boss of you." Oh, he is smug. I purse my lips. I don't care for that at all. "Has anyone ever told you charm isn't your strong suit?" His patience has run out. "Charm doesn't keep royalty alive." Touché.

The Lord Almighty loves His beautiful Names and Attributes. He loves the requirement of His Attributes and manifestation of their outcome in the servant. He is Beautiful and loves beauty. He is Forgiving and loves those who forgive. He is Generous and loves the people of generosity. He is All-Knowing and loves the people of knowledge. He is Single and loves the people who perform the odd number of prayers. He is Powerful and the strong believer is more beloved to Him than the weak one. He is the Most Patient and loves the people of patience. He is Appreciative and loves those who are thankful.

Meetings create worldly connections, while separations can be heart-wrenching. Yet a broken heart will eventually find healing through a new bond. Like medicine healing a wound, the right person will be discovered. Such love is strong as tree roots. Patience is key in waiting for the right person.

patience was a bitter cup from which only the strong could drink.

Most successful long-term relationships share similar traits. Having worked closely with hundreds of couples, I’ve noticed over the years what the really strong ones have in common. They recognize the vital importance of patience and compromise. They possess common values and goals. But perhaps most striking of all, the really solid couples, the ones who seem happiest and most fulfilled, all seem to have dedicated their lives together to some greater purpose.

pastors in churches with a strong evangelistic or innovative bent (among whom I count myself) to claim that they don’t like to be around Christians. One pastor recently told me that he didn’t want any Christians coming to his new church plant. He only wanted non-Christians searching for God, and new Christians who’d recently come to Christ. On one hand, I understand where he’s coming from. He’s tired of dealing with small-minded traditionalists who want to maintain a historical preservation society more than fulfill the mission. But on the other hand, I fear for the unintended consequences of his outlook. If he’s only going to reach out to non-Christians and nurture new Christians, what’s he going to do when those new Christians become plain ol’ Christians, the kind he hates to be around? His patience and compassion flow easily toward people caught in the addictive clutches of sin. He thinks the rough language and butchered theology of a new Christian is cool, sort of like the cute things little kids say and do. But two or three years later his patience runs thin and the compassion runs dry when he realizes that these cute new Christians are still dealing with the same old issues. At that point he leaves the “slow growers” to fend for themselves. Many quietly make their way out the back door, though he never seems to notice in the excitement of all the new folks coming through the front door.

what makes a marriage strong is loving with a biblical love grounded in patience, kindness, loyalty, grace, and more, which is in alignment with God’s covenantal purpose for marriage.

Like a child building a new toy with a heap of Lego blocks, I reassembled the useful pieces from the debris of my old life with patience, persistence and a strong belief that a better life was possible.

Patience is not the same as indifference; patience conveys the idea of someone who is tremendously strong and able to withstand all assaults. Having the vision of God is the source of patience because it gives us God’s true and proper inspiration. Moses endured, not because of his devotion to his principles of what was right, nor because of his sense of duty to God, but because he had a vision of God.

THINGS I LEARNED FROM DAVID CARR: A LIST Listen when you enter a room. Don’t buy into your myth. Don’t be the first one to talk, but if you do talk first, say something smart. Speak and then stop; don’t stutter or mumble; be strong in what you have to say. Be defiant. You have to work the phones. Call people. Don’t rely on emails. Ask questions but ask the right questions. Ask people what mistakes they’ve made so you can get their shortcuts. Know when enough is enough. Make eye contact with as many people as possible. Don’t be in shitty relationships because you are tired of being alone. Be grateful for the things you have in this life. You are lucky. Practice patience even though it’s one of the hardest things to master. Failure is a part of the process, maybe the most important part. Alcohol is not a necessary component of life. Street hotdogs are not your friend. Remind yourself that nobody said this would be easy. If more negative things come out of your mouth than positive, then Houston, we have a problem. We contain multitudes. Always love (See band: Nada Surf). Have a dance move and don’t be afraid to rock it. Don’t go home just because you are tired. Don’t take credit for work that is not yours. If your boss does this, take note. Be generous with praise and be specific in that praise: “That line was killer.” Cats are terrible; they poop in your house. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Do the next right thing. Our dogs are us. Only cuter. And finally: You are loved and you belong to me, the world, and yourself. BOOKS I READ WHILE WRITING THIS BOOK The Night of the Gun: A Reporter Investigates the Darkest Story of His Life—His Own by David Carr The Art of Memoir by Mary Karr The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion The Gilded Razor: A Memoir by Sam