Pens With Motivational Quotes

Writers have influenced thoughts, principals, viewpoints and experiences throughout history. A talented writer’s pen is anointed with magic!

Most people who spew hatred aren’t very intelligent or motivated. They tend to be lazy, and if for some reason they are coaxed into picking up a pen, their messages are mostly incoherent and largely illiterate.

Before, I thought we could write about life only when we had recovered from our wounds; when we were able to touch old sores with a pen and not revive the pain; when we could look back free from nostalgia, madness, and a sense of grievance. But is this really possible? We are never completely cut off from our memory. Recollections provides the inspiration for writing, the stimulus for painting, and for some, the motivation even for death.

You've got to pick your battles, Pen, but then fight to the death for the ones that matter.

Don't let anyone tell your story. Pick up a pen and write your own.

Your mind is a book; God is the pen.

Life is a poem just waiting to be written, lift your pen and speak.

Sometimes we take leaps of faith, and sometimes we take tiny steps. Even the tiniest step can require a lot of courage. Like climbing out of denial and admitting my real need for help. Like trusting someone who said I wouldn’t die from eating a bowl of pasta, and taking another bite. Like reaching for a pen or a yoga mat when what I really wanted to do was reach for a cookie. Like searching for a smile in my heart when my mind was busy screaming about how sad and serious I should be.

There is a classic psychology experiment that seems to confirm Brewer's point. Children who enjoy drawing were given marker pens and allowed to go at it. Some were rewarded for drawing (they were given a certificate with a gold seal and a ribbon, and told ahead of time about this arrangement, whereas for others the issue of rewards was never raised. Weeks later, those who had been rewarded took less interest in drawing, and their drawings were judged to be lower in quality, whereas those who had not been rewarded continued to enjoy the activity and produced higher-quality drawings. The hypothesis is that the child begins to attribute his interest, which previously needed no justification, to the external reward, and this has the effect of reducing his intrinsic interest in it. That is, an external reward can affect one's interpretation of one's own motivation, an interpretation that comes to be self-fulfilling.

Even if all our senses fail to function − eyes turn blind and ears fail to listen − the heart will still listen, see and beat.

Every breath, every step, every little sound that I hear, every person in my life I am thankful for — all of them have been a big part of who I am today.

God is alive in each one of us. We just need to bend our knees, hold our hands together and open our hearts to Him.

Most people who spew hatred aren't very intelligent or motivated. They tend to be lazy, and if for some reason they are coaxed into picking up a pen, their messages are mostly incoherent and largely illiterate. Their spelling and sentence structure tends to be atrocious, so it's hard to take offense at anything they'd say even when they do write. After all, if they're not motivated or intelligent enough to research the simple spelling of a word in a dictionary, then you know they certainly aren't going to take the time to research the case.

The lessons that we get out of this ride of life is to remember the Third Law of Newton which states that “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

I seek no perfection in writing. I seek justice. Because as much as a pen can heal, it can also kill.

She who holds a pen is more powerful than he who swings a sword.

My pen is my strength.

Creativity bleeds from the pen of inspiration.

Through social media, missing persons are found; sick persons are given chances to live a healthy life. I say, that is the modern bayanihan movement.

Life is varied, colorful, and full of surprises. It is always good to remember that your existence matters, so better get moving and move forward with your life.

Keep hoping. Be patient and diligent. Never give up. Hold on to your faith. God helps us when we show Him that we are willing to help ourselves.

His pen spoke more to her than he ever did”. In the war of words, some are unwritten and some are unspoken.

You are the ink, pen and paper, your life is your own decision.

A pen in my hand, a glaring in my mind, A tyrant could not subdue me.

There lived a poet in the lands of gold, Wrote along poems unaffected by warmth or cold, His words spoke truth and pen's stroke was bold, His only motive: lives to mould

Each day is a miracle. Just being able to live through the rest of the day is a miracle. Breathing the air of tomorrow is another miracle.

Our little actions of love, when put together, can make a big difference.

Our hands will never be too small for helping those who are in need as long we have the heart to care.

Use your pen to set the world on fire. Words ignite light, defeating darkness.

What is your hidden story? What trials don’t you tell? What inner woe and wounds Do you keep buried oh so well? What are the shielded secrets That gloss your weary eyes? What unseen dread and pain Do you keep shrouded in disguise? Blind to your shackled burdens, I cannot see your fears. But written on your soul I sense a story penned in tears. I’d pay the price to read it, To learn whereby you weep. To comprehend, I swear Your burning secrets I would keep. What is your hidden story? What trials don’t you tell? What cost in woe and wounds For me to know you oh so well?

Never lose hope. You can do anything. You can be anyone. No matter who you are or what you go through, you have the power to write your story. You hold the pen. Above all, never give up on yourself.

I believe that every day is a miracle; every hour, every minute, every second and every breath. I have been given the chance to live, so I am choosing to live life to the fullest with all that I am and everything that I have.

Getting a spark of inspiration to write is the best feeling in the world, no matter what time it is...I get a feeling on the inside that urges me to get up from whatever I am doing, grabbing that pen and writing down whatever my heart and mind tell me too... it's beautiful."

Today is a new day! You have the opportunity to pick up life’s pen and change your story. Become the hero; the greatest hero in your story, and you'll see how much more exciting your life will be. You will watch your goals and dreams transition from something you simply hoped for to something within your powerful grasp.

I believe a writer is...the scribe-griot of his/her nation. S/he has the power to incite, ignite, excite, pacify, edify, motivate and eliminate others with the slash of a pen, click of a mouse or swipe of a finger. Though coloured by time, class, age, geography, childhood and other factors, a writer crystallises a slice of his/her society's culture, mores and its dark and light truths. A writer makes everything real.

It is not cynical to admit the past has been turned into a fiction. It is a story, not a fact. The real has been erased. Whole eras have been added or removed. Wars have been aggrandized, and human struggle relegated to the margins. Villains are redressed as heroes. Generous, striving, imperfect men and women have been stripped of their flaws or plucked of their virtues and turned into figurines of morality or depravity. Whole societies have been fixed with motive and visions and equanimity where there was none. Suffering has been recast as noble sacrifice! Do you know why the history of the Tower is in such turmoil? Because too many powerful men are fighting for the pen, fighting to write their story over our dead bodies. They know what is at stake: immortality, the character of civilization, and influence beyond the ages. They are fighting to see who gets to mislead our grandchildren.

On reflection, looking at shows like this and considering my own experiences, what fascinated me was that we have so many stories like this that help us empathize with monstrous men. “Yes, these men are flawed, but they are not as evil as this man.” Even more chilling, they tend to be stories that paint women as roadblocks, aggressors, antagonists, complications—but only in the context of them being a bitch, a whore, a Madonna. The women are never people. Stories about monstrous men are not meant to teach us how to empathize with the women and children murdered, but with the men fighting over their bodies. As a woman menaced by monsters, I find this particularly interesting, this erasure of me from a narrative meant to, if not justify, then explain the brokenness of men. There are shows much better at this, of course, which don’t paint women out of the story—Mad Men is the first to come to mind, and Game of Thrones—but True Detective doubled down. The women terrorized by monsters in real life are active agents. They are monster-slayers, monster-pacifiers, monster-nurturers, monster-wranglers—and some of them are monsters, too. In truth, if we are telling a tale of those who fight monsters, it fascinates me that we are not telling more women’s stories, as we’ve spun so many narratives like True Detective that so blatantly illustrate the sexist masculinity trap that turns so many human men into the very things they despise. Where are the women who fight them? Who partner with them? Who overcome them? Who battle their own monsters to fight greater ones? Because I have and continue to be one of those women, navigating a horror show world of monsters and madmen. We are women who write books and win awards and fight battles and carve out extraordinary lives from ruin and ash. We are not background scenery, our voices silenced, our motives and methods constrained to sex. I cannot fault the show’s men for forgetting that; they’ve created the world as they see it. But I can prod the show’s exceptional writers, because in erasing the narrative of those whose very existence is constantly threatened by these monsters, including trusted monsters whose natures vacillate wildly, they sided with the monsters. I’m not a bit player in a monster’s story. But with narratives like this perpetuated across our media, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s how my obituary read: a catalogue of the men who sired me, and fucked me, and courted me. Stories that are not my own. Funny, isn’t it? The power of story. It’s why I picked up a pen. I slay monsters, too.

This book recognises you as a complex human. This book recognises that the grade you get will not show every- thing behind the scenes, and that a pass grade for one person will merit the same congratulations of top grades for another. This book is an invi- tation to motivate yourself from within, taking into account everything else in your life. We all deserve to enter these exams with sharp pens blazing and brains bulging. Because at the end of the day, the details of your circumstances weren’t your choice. But the choice you do have is how you react to it. You’ve got this.

The goal is that we need not to have a large audience to make a difference. If you have a pen, use it to contribute towards the betterment of your society. If you have a voice, speak your way through making a positive change in your environment. If you have connections, use them to make a positive difference. If you only have your family or friends, relay your message of change to them. At times, you only need your good intention to make a positive contribution. Don't wait to be famous to plant positive seeds in the society. Start with the resources that you have today to cultivate positivity in your environment.

a man named Dalton, a District 10 refugee who’d made it to 13 on foot a few years ago, leaked the real motive to me. “They need you. Me. They need us all. Awhile back, there was some sort of pox epidemic that killed a bunch of them and left a lot more infertile. New breeding stock. That’s how they see us.” Back in 10, he’d worked on one of the beef ranches, maintaining the genetic diversity of the herd with the implantation of long-frozen cow embryos. He’s very likely right about 13, because there don’t seem to be nearly enough kids around. But so what? We’re not being kept in pens, we’re being trained for work, the children are being educated. Those over fourteen have been given entry-level ranks in the military and are addressed respectfully as “Soldier.” Every single refugee was granted automatic citizenship by the authorities of 13.

I have no fear about the outcome of our struggle in Birmingham, even if our motives are at present misunderstood. We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom. Abused and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up with America's destiny. Before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we were here. Before the pen of Jefferson etched the majestic words of the Declaration of Independence across the pages of history, we were here. For more than two centuries our forebears labored in this country without wages; they made cotton king; they built the homes of their masters while suffering gross injustice and shameful humiliation—and yet out of a bottomless vitality they continued to thrive and develop. If the inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom because the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of God are embodied in our echoing demands.

Here he was in the old dilemma. How often before now had he halted on the threshold of Catholicism, sounding himself thoroughly and finding always that he had no faith. Decidedly there had been no effort on the part of God to reclaim him, and he himself had never possessed the kind of will that permits one to let oneself go, trustingly, without reserve, into the sheltering shadows of immutable dogma. Momentarily at times when, after reading certain books, his disgust for everyday life was accentuated, he longed for lenitive hours in a cloister, where the monotonous chant of prayers in an incense-laden atmosphere would bring on a somnolence, a dreamy rapture of mystical ideas. But only a simple soul, on which life's wear and tear had left no mark, was capable of savouring the delights of such a self-abandon, and his own soul was battered and torn with earthly conflict. He must admit that the momentary desire to believe, to take refuge in the timeless, proceeded from a multitude of ignoble motives: from lassitude with the petty and repeated annoyances of existence, quarrels with the laundress, with the waiter, with the landlord; the sordid scramble for money; in a word, from the general spiritual failure of a man approaching forty. He thought of escaping into a monastery somewhat as street girls think of going into a house where they will be free from the dangers of the chase, from worry about food and lodging, and where they will not have to do their own washing and ironing. Unmarried, without settled income, the voice of carnality now practically stilled in him, he sometimes cursed the existence he had shaped for himself. At times, weary of attempting to coerce words to do his bidding, he threw down his pen and looked into the future. He could see nothing ahead of him but bitterness and cause for alarm, and, seeking consolation, he was forced to admit that only religion could heal, but religion demanded in return so arrant a desertion of common sense, so pusillanimous a willingness to be astonished at nothing, that he threw up his hands and begged off.

To every one Jesus has left a work to do, there is no one who can plead that he is excused. Every Christian is to be a worker with Christ; but those to whom he has intrusted large means and abilities have the greater responsibilities. … The Master has given directions, “Occupy till I come.” He is the great proprietor, and has a right to investigate every transaction, and approve or condemn; he has a right to rebuke, to encourage, to counsel, or to expel. The Lord’s work requires careful thought and the highest intellect. He will not inquire how successful you have been in gathering means to hoard, or that you may excel your neighbors in property, and gather attention to yourself while excluding God from your hearts and homes. He will inquire, What have you done to advance my cause with the talents I lent you? What have you done for me in the person of the poor, the afflicted, the orphan, and the fatherless? I was sick, poor, hungry, and destitute of clothing; what did you do for me with my intrusted means? How was the time I lent you employed? How did you use your pen, your voice, your money, your influence? I made you the depositary of a precious trust by opening before you the thrilling truths heralding my second coming. What have you done with the light and knowledge I gave you to make men wise unto salvation? Our Lord has gone away to receive his kingdom; but he will prepare mansions for us, and then will come to take us to himself. In his absence he has given us the privilege of being co-laborers with him in the work of preparing souls to enter those mansions of light and glory. It was not that we might lead a life of worldly pleasure and extravagance that he left the royal courts of Heaven, clothing his divinity with humanity, and becoming poor that we through his poverty might be made rich. He did this that we might follow his example of self-denial for others. Each one of us is building upon the true foundation, wood, hay, and stubble, to be consumed in the last great conflagration, and our life-work be lost, or we are building upon that foundation, gold, silver, and precious stones, which will never perish, but shine the brighter amid the devouring elements that will try every man’s work. Any unfaithfulness in spiritual and eternal things here will result in loss throughout endless ages. Those who lead a Christless life, who exclude Jesus from heart, home, and business, who leave him out of their counsels, and trust to their own heart, and rely on their own judgment, are unfaithful servants, and will receive the reward which their works have merited. At his coming the Master will call his servants, and reckon with them. The parable certainly teaches that good works will be rewarded according to the motive that prompted them; that skill and intellect used in the service of God will prove a success, and will be rewarded according to the fidelity of the worker. Those who have had an eye single to the glory of God will have the richest reward. -ST 11-20-84

judges did not force the American government to reveal all, and leave it powerless to punish those who leaked its secrets. Instead they established new rules for the conduct of public debate. They were careful not to allow absolute liberty. Private citizens can sue as easily in America as anywhere else, if writers attack them without good grounds. Poison pens are still punished, and individual reputations are still protected. If, however, a private citizen is engaged in a public debate, it is not enough for him or her to prove that what a writer says is false and defamatory. They must prove that the writer behaved ‘negligently’. The judiciary protects public debates, the Supreme Court said in 1974, because ‘under the First Amendment, there is no such thing as a false idea. However pernicious an opinion may seem, we depend for its correction not on the conscience of judges but on the competition of other ideas.’ Finally, the judges showed no regard for the feelings of politicians and other public figures. They must prove that a writer was motivated by ‘actual malice’ before they could succeed in court. The public figure must show that the writer knew that what he or she wrote was a lie, or wrote with a reckless disregard for the truth. Unlike in Britain, the burden of proof was with the accuser, not the accused.

I love sharing a lil piece of me! My thoughts and views or cares and concerns…it’s therapy for me. I write to let off steam usually, it helps to talk through the pen or pencil... Frustration and anxiety is released and a cleansing breath is allowed and greatly welcome.

the man who passes from a distinguished University career to a distinguished public life may do more for the poor by his pen, by his power of awakening sympathy, by the opportunity that may be his to obtain the reversal of unjust laws or the establishment of good laws, than he ever could have done by living in a slum as the friend and helper of a small group of needy men and women. Decisive victories are won more often by lateral movements than by frontal attacks. The wave of force which travels on a circle may arrive with more thrilling impact on a point of contact than that which travels on a horizontal line. Society is best served after all by the fullest development of our best faculties; and whether we check this development from pious or selfish motives, the result is still the same; we have robbed society of its profit by us, which is the worst kind of evil which we can inflict on the community.

Being able to accept my condition doesn’t mean I’ll just let it be and do nothing about it.

I believe that the choice not to have a choice is a choice in itself.

Since we have to make choices in life, why not choose the good ones?

Accept, forgive and forget. Forgive not only the people who hurt us, but also forgive ourselves, accepting whatever is the outcome, then forget the wrongs, learn from them and move on. Holding on to the guilt and pain would just make life miserable for us.

Research shows that allowing ourselves to forgive and forget can be healthy — it reduces pains, headaches, stress, and leads to a strong immune system. So I say: Why continue to hold grudges? We will just put our health in jeopardy, and lessen the number of pages and chapters that we still need to write in our book of life.

Life is the greatest chance that has been given to all of us. So how do you choose to live your life? You’ve got a pen. Write it down.

There may be so many definitions of life but I can only describe it in one word – it is LIFE itself. If we live life to the fullest, we can see its beautiful meaning.

Life is not perfect. But it is how you face it that’s worth living for. From there you will find out how beautiful it is to live.

There is no such thing as a selfless act, Alicia," he said all-knowingly as he moved his pen down to the last signature box. "Everyone has an ulterior motive when they give something, and I respect you enough to tell you mine.

I know I am finished with a book when I never want to see it again. And if you have worked at it long enough to hate the sight of it, I promise you will come to love it again some sweet day. That is when you will know you did a writer's work.

You are the author of your own life story. A journey that never truly ends. How will the final chapter unfold? That depends on the truths that you have penned. ~ Sadie K. Frazier

I know me God and I know you see my heart I ain't afraid, nothing will tear us apart

There was also a series of top contributor lists, for the previous forty-eight hours as well as for all time, to motivate both short-term and long-term participation. And to celebrate successful participation, as well as sheer volume of participation, there was also a “best individual discoveries” page that identified key findings from individual players. Some of these discoveries were over-the-top luxuries offensive to one’s sense of propriety: a £240 giraffe print or a £225 fountain pen, for example. Others were mathematical errors or inconsistencies suggesting individuals were reimbursed more than they were owed. As one player noted, “Bad math on page 29 of an invoice from MP Denis MacShane, who claimed £1,730 worth of reimbursement, when the sum of those items listed was only £1,480.

My pen and paper can do this better, tell you the story about black girl raised by her father in a poor family rural area with no education and better qualifications to make her life better that me the only thing I had was dream and goal to turn around my situation the bigger I dreamed It what I managed to get as I mentioned the only thing that I know is sound of birds,trees,my dad's goats that I was a sherped of it and water flows I made a decision that I don't want to die on that situation.

Being a Qoets author is not about know how to hold or have a pen it about having a word neither being healthy fit is not about having a gym equipment and knowing what to do is about doing it.

Vengeance is mine saith my pen.

I see the world in a different way, A gift that comes with challenges each day. My mind is wired in a unique fashion, But my pen and paper are my greatest passion. Words flow freely from my mind, In ways that are hard to define. They dance and twirl, they sing and rhyme, A kaleidoscope of colors, a symphony of time. My writing is my voice, my soul's expression, A way to communicate without hesitation. It's a bridge that connects me to the world, A gift that helps me to be heard. Though my struggles may be many, My writing is a place where I feel plenty. A space where I can be myself, And share my thoughts without anyone else. So I'll keep writing, day by day, And let my words light up the way. For in my writing, I find my strength, And the power to go to any length. I have a non verbal learning disorder, A condition that can make life harder. But when I write, I feel free, And my words help me to be me. My writing is a gift that I treasure, A source of joy that brings me pleasure. It's a way to express what's in my heart, And share my thoughts in a world apart. In a world that often misinterprets, My writing is a way to connect. It gives me a voice that's loud and clear, And helps me to overcome my fear. For though my words may stumble and falter, They are the key to my soul's altar. A place where I can be myself, And share my thoughts with anyone else. So I'll keep writing, day by day, And let my words lead the way. For in my writing, I find my voice, And the strength to make my own choice.

My paper is a bed for wounded souls. My pen is a needle for fixing the wounds. And my words are the healing medicine.

The chapters of life are penned by our choices, whether small or monumental; let's endeavor to write a story worth reading.

Words pen the lyrics of the soul.

Your success is in your hands. You are the one who holds the pen, so why let anyone else write your story?

Your destiny is yours to write. Don't let anyone else hold the pen.

The goal is that we need not to have a large audience to make a difference. If you have a pen, use it to contribute towards the betterment of your society. If you have a voice, speak your way through making a positive change in your environment. If you have connections, use them to make a positive difference. If you only have your family or friends, relay your message of change to them.

My pen fights for justice.

The writing of the poetry is natural. It's the feeling of being connected to someone which moves the pen...

My pen is my sword.

My pen is my voice.

My pen is my voice. I write for change. I write for justice.

I write for justice.

I write for change.

It's an honour to know that my pen is a healing device.

I write for a purpose. I was born to use papers and books to speak up. I was born to use my pen to defend my views and of those who are voiceless. My pen is my sword.

I was born to use papers and books to speak up. I was born to use my pen to defend my views and of those who are voiceless.