Pep Quotes

Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?" Minho asked, pulling Thomas's attention away from Alby. "Go ahead," Newt replied. Minho nodded and faced the crowd. "Be careful," he said dryly. "Don't die.

The trouble with giving yourself a pep talk is, that deep down you know it's all bullshit.

Drop out of school before your mind rots from exposure to our mediocre educational system. Forget about the Senior Prom and go to the library and educate yourself if you've got any guts. Some of you like Pep rallies and plastic robots who tell you what to read.

Shouldn't someone give a pep talk or something?' Minho asked... "Go ahead," Newt replied. Minho nodded and faced the crowd. 'Be careful,' he said dryly. 'Don't die.' Thomas would have laughed if he could, but he was too scared for it to come out. 'Great. We're all bloody inspired,' Newt answered.

DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON ME, JEZEBEL! DON'T YOU DARE! Or I'll follow you to the next world and KILL you.

Drunken men give some of the best pep talks.

Babcock fidgeted with one of his cufflinks while staring down the remaining brokers in his office. He then delivered something akin to a pep talk in a severe tone. "... The world depends on our services. Services that must not be impeded. We don't break our backs producing things that have no real value—food, shelter, clothes ... art. No! We're titans of finance. We move intangible things and ideas around the world on digital platforms. No one else in the world can accumulate as much wealth as we do by simply moving around one and zeros on computers.

i drink caffeine" she said calmly "lot's of it gives you pep

Any tips for winning?” she’d asked. “Yeah. Do what you gotta do to survive.” “That’s it? Wow. You suck at pep talks.

What if he just bombs everyone again?" Ian asks, breaking the silence. "Just like he did with Omega Point?" "He won't," Warner says to him. "He's too arrogant, and this war has become personal. He'll want to toy with us. He'll want to draw this out as long as possible. He is a man who has always been fascinated by the idea of torture. This is going to be fun for him." "Yeah, that's making me feel real good," Kenji says. "Thanks for the pep talk." "Anytime," Warner says.

no more pep talks about believing in toads," Liza said. "Don't they turn into princeses when you kiss them?" Bonnie said. "Thats frogs," Liza Said. "Entirely different species.

It was time for the mirror pep talk. “Okay, Maggie,” I said to myself after my shower, wiping the steam off the medicine cabinet. “You could eat these kids for breakfast. You won’t, though, because that would be cannibalistic and wrong.

If you are in Christ, you have a Friend who, in your sorrow, will never lob down a pep talk from heaven. He cannot bear to hold himself at a distance. Nothing can hold him back. His heart is too bound up with yours.

Real optimism is not the pep talk you give yourself. It is earned through the labor involved in emotional housekeeping.

And," Amber said, practically drooling as she ogled him, "it's tradition for new arrivals to help with the pep rally." Brooklyn quirked her lips in doubt. "Tradition?" "It's a new tradition," Amber shot back. "Clearly the deeper meaning of the word has escaped you.

Shouldn't someone give a pep talk," Minho asked, pulling Thomas's attention away from Alby. "Go ahead," Newt replied. Minho nodded and faced the crowd. "Be careful," he said dryly, "Don't die." Thomas would have laughed if he could, but he was too scared for it to come out. "Great. We're all bloody inspired," Newt answered then pointed over his shoulder toward the Maze, "You all know the plan. After two years of being treated like mice, tonight we're making a stand. Tonight we're taking the fight back to the Creators, no matter what we have to go through to get there. Tonight the Grievers better be scared.

I saw Kat before me, her pupils glowing. I turned slowly, finding a soldier on the ground, a PEP weapon by his lifeless hand. “I can help,” she said. You saved my life. I turned back to her. That is so hot.

Good Morning Don't wait on anyone to make your favorite thing Make your own favorite thing Go

Back in my day, which was about a week and a half ago, we took our lumps and we got back up and we cried like babies and quit and then put on weight.

Gmorning. Allow for the possibility that the best of you is still inside you, waiting to emerge. Prepare the way, bit by bit.

Gmorning! You're gonna make mistakes. You're gonna fail. You're gonna get back up. You're gonna break hearts. You're gonna change minds. You're gonna make noise. You're gonna make music. You're gonna be late, let's GO. Gnight! You're gonna fall down. You're gonna be tested. You're gonna learn about yourself. You're gonna get brave. You're gonna take stands. You're gonna make waves. You're gonna make history. You're gonna need rest, REST UP.

Writing is wretched, discouraging, physically unhealthy, infinitely frustrating work. And when it all comes together it’s utterly glorious." National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) Pep Talk

All I meant was that people take their same old lives wherever they go. No place is perfect enough to strip you of that. And some places have a way of magnifying your demons, or of, I don't know, giving them pep pills.

Gmorning. YOU ARE SO LOVED AND WE LIKE HAVING YOU AROUND. *ties one end of this sentence to your heart, the other end to everyone who loves you, even the ones you haven’t heard from for a while* *checks knots* THERE. STAY PUT, YOU. Gnight. YOU ARE SO LOVED AND WE LIKE HAVING YOU AROUND. *ties one end of this sentence to your heart, the other end to everyone who loves you in this life, even if clouds obscure your view* *checks knots* THERE. STAY PUT, YOU. TUG IF YOU NEED ANYTHING.

We have created youth ministry that confuses extroversion with faithfulness. We have effectively communicated to young people that sincerely following Jesus is synonymous with being 'fired up' for Jesus, with being excited for Jesus, as if discipleship were synonymous with fostering an exuberant, perky, cheerful, hurray-for-Jesus disposition like what we might find in the glee club or at a pep rally.

Make a list of all the varieties of aliens you can come up with. (And if it's less than 3,000, then THE PEARS ARE LAUGHING AT YOU, MY FRIEND.)" -Scott Westerfeld from NaNoWriMo Pep Talk.

Too many people in this world think small is the best they can do. Not you, Libby Strout. You weren't born for small! You don't know how to do small! Small is not in you!

You know, small children take it as a matter of course that things will change every day and grown-ups understand that things change sooner or later and their job is to keep them from changing as long as possible. It’s only kids in high school who are convinced they’re never going to change. There’s always going to be a pep rally and there’s always going to be a spectator bus, somewhere out there in their future.

Kissing him last night at the pep rally had been like kissing an underpass.

Just giving Jenny a last minute pep talk before the race," Drew informs him. "There's no need for that, Claire is going to kick everyone's ass." Carter says. Drew laughs and shakes his head. "Oh that's hilarious, limp dick! I know for a fact that Jenny will be the victor." "The Victor? Who's Victor? Is that like some vibrator champion or something? Is the race named after this Victor guy?" Claire pats my shoulder and just smiles at me. I guess she already knows about Victor. I'm always the last to know everything.

Dr. Everest, got up and gave us a little pep talk. Mostly it boiled down to the fact that it was autumn, and everyone was back, and while that was a great thing, people better not get cocky or misbehave or he'd personally kill us all. He didn't actually say those words, but that was the subtext.

Wait, that’s your idea? That’s your expert advice? You’re going to tell these novelists to just keep going? You’re going to tell these honest, earnest writers: You gotta have faith? Those are George Michael lyrics, asshole. If they wanted that pep talk, they could just hang out inside a mall elevator.

I glared at him. "Matt said he got a pep talk at his test. I don't rate a pep talk?" "You want a pep talk?" He made a fist with one hand, then punched it through the air in a victorious motion. "Go get 'em. You've got twenty-eight minutes." "Dude, do not join the pep squad.

When the middle classes get passionate about politics, they're arguing about their treats—their tax breaks and their investments. When the poor get passionate about politics, they're fighting for their lives. Politics will always mean more to the poor. Always. That's why we strike and march, and despair when our young say they won't vote. That's why the poor are seen as more vital, more animalistic. No classical music for us—no walking around National Trust properties or buying reclaimed flooring. We don't have nostalgia. We don't do yesterday. We can't bear it. We don't want to be reminded of our past, because it was awful: dying in means, and slums, without literacy, or the vote. Without dignity. It was all so desperate then. That's why the present and the future is for the poor—that's the place in time for us: surviving now, hoping for better later. We live now—for our instant, hot, fast treats, to pep us up: sugar, a cigarette, a new fast song on the radio. You must never, never forget when you talk to someone poor, that it takes ten times the effort to get anywhere from a bad post code. It's a miracle when someone from a bad post code gets anywhere, son. A miracle they do anything at all.

To be on top, you’ve got to feel like you’re on top. Give yourself a pep talk and discover how much bigger and stronger you feel.

It is not my place to offer pep talks, aphorisms, or dictums. But if I had to give one piece of practical advice it would be this: Find something that you love that they're fucking with and then fight for it. If everyone did that--imagine the difference. (50)

Good morning. Your very presence is intoxicating. Good night. Your very absence is sobering.

Your mind is yours alone. Do what it takes to make yourself comfy. Build a library in there, play some music. Make it your home.

I think we need a little more rallying around the dumpee. If you were a woman and I’d told you that the third guy in eighteen months had broken up with me, right now we’d be drinking lemon drop martinis and giving each other female empowerment pep talks about how we don’t need a man in our lives to feel complete. And then we’d watch The Notebook and drool over Ryan Gosling.” “Sorry, babe. But when they handed out best friends you drew the straw with a penis attached. That means no Ryan Gosling.

When I see you’re hurting, I want to wipe it away. When I see you doubting yourself, I want to give you the best damned pep talk in history. When you cry, I want to make you smile. When you laugh, I want to make you laugh harder. When you moan in my arms, I want to make you dissolve into a puddle. When you’re insecure about how I feel about you, I want to replace that with a proclamation that I love you so hard that I never want you to question us again.

Kenya DOES NOT belong to 2 tribes only. Kenya has 42 tribes. to say that the decision of 2 tribes is the decision of the whole country is fallacy and outright dictatorship and tribalism Akuku Mach Pep, Democracy on Trial

Right, girls – let’s go fuck up those bitches!” Yeah, my pep talks rock.

Hanna D: Your pep talks ----ing suck, AIDAN. AIDAN: . . . Suck what? Hanna D: Never mind.

You are perfectly cast in your life. I can’t imagine anyone but you in the role. Go play.

Good morning. I'm tired. I bet you're tired. But we're awake and alive and that's enough. C'mon. C'mon. Good night. I'm tired. I bet you're tired. But we're awake and alive and that's enough. C'mon. C'mon.

For an early morning I had so much fucking pep in my step. Lust was a great motivator. I was spending time with Tom Cohen. A Tsunami could sweep through the city and I’d still think I was having a great week.

That’s what I want you to tell me. See, I deal with…well, most days, bizarre paranormal crap. You are Queen Weird. I need the queen on this before I have to start hiring a new staff of medical examiners who don’t freak out when the dead move off their tables. You know where I can find some of these unusual people? I know you hang out with them. (Tate) Thanks, Tate. I always look forward to these ego-bolstering pep talks of ours. (Simone)

What are friends, anyways? You pick some people you have similar interests with, and you hang out and talk. You give each other pep talks and listen to each other's problems. I could replace most of Courtney's job duties as best friend with a book of inspirational slogans and a journal.

Good morning. You got a good head on your shoulders. As for your shoulders? F***ing magnificent. GO get ’em today.

If the day looms too large, kick it in the shins so it has to face you.

I think you’ve drifted from ‘giving me a pep-talk’ into ‘advocating arson’.

There are many gifts a friend brings to a woman’s life. History. Empathy. Honesty. Lucky was the woman who kept a childhood friend because that friend remembered what you looked like, who you were, and your people. Lucky was the woman who had a friend from the age of ten, when girls were brave, gutsy, and full of questions and had the time and pep to seek the answers. That friend knew who you really were. That friend had seen your soul.

Every morning I wake up and I tell myself this: It’s just one day, one twenty-four-hour period to get yourself through. I don’t know when exactly I started giving myself this daily pep talk—or why.

Though not necessarily aware of when we feel purpose and meaning, we are nearly always aware of the sickening feeling when we don't possess them. This isn't an intellectual misapprehension; it is a gut sense of disorientation and a loss of personal direction. Rarely are brute mental effort and self-help pep talks able to rekindle the missing feeling. For most of us, we simply wait patiently, knowing from past experience that the feeling will return in its own sweet time . . . Of particular interest is [Tolstoy's] conclusion as to the inability of science and reason to provide a personal sense of meaning.

I was blessed to be that person in school who was friends with everyone and got along with every group and cliques in school. I was never bullied in high school, and was in Drama, newspaper, sports, pep, and school politics. Guess I was popular enough too to be voted for things too. So where do all the angst and teenage books come from? From the rest of life, imagination, stepping into the shoes of someone, and some incidences in my own life...especially when it deals with romance. Been there and done that...now I'm happily married ever after to a man like the kind I write about and live in and travel to glamorous and exciting places. This wouldn't happen if I didn't have the confidence to believe in myself and to pursue what I love. - Kailin Gow in Interview.

I am the captain of my own crunch.

He let go and stood back,eyeing me.I could tell he didn't want to say anything to destroy my confidence,but he was afraid he'd created a monster. "Don't worry.I'm ready to play the game." I nodded solemnly. "One more thing," he said. "If you do fall-" I cringed. Some pep talk! "-If something terrible happens,you still won't lose everything.Now you have good friends,and nothing will ever change that.You're not that girl." "Oh,Nick." I threw myself at him,literally. He wrapped me in his arms and brushed my hair aside to kiss my forehead again. I squeezed him hard,then drew away and punched him on his padded arm. "Go ahead,and don't break a leg.

People ought to be allowed to drop to pieces in any way they choose. I even disapprove of propping them up. Let nations, like men, die in peace. I rather feel as if I had been delivering pep talks to men dying of cancer.

Every morning I wake up and I tell myself this: It's just one day, one twenty-four-hour period to get yourself through. I Don't know when exactly I started giving myself this daily pep talk-or why. It sounds like a twelve-step mantra and I'm not in Anything Anonymous, though to read some of the crap they write about me, you'd think I should be. I have the kind of like a lot of people would probably sell a kidney to just experience a bit of. But still, I find the need to remind myself of the temporariness of a day, to reassure myself that I got through yesterday, I'll get through today.

Kets de Vries confirmed that language is a critical clue when determining if a company has become too cultish for comfort. Red flags should rise when there are too many pep talks, slogans, singsongs, code words, and too much meaningless corporate jargon, he said.

My parents gave me the pep talk when I started school, the same speech all black parents give their kids: You're gonna have to be bigger, badder, better, just to be considered equal. You're gonna have to do twice as much work and you're not going to get any credit for your accomplishments or for overcoming adversity. Most black people grow accustomed to the fact that we have to excel just to be seen as existing, and this is a lesson passed down from generation to generation. You can either be Super Negro or the forgotten Negro.

Stop messin' around. Be the person you are meant to be. Remember that somewhere someone is rooting for you to succeed! Don't worry about the others. They're too busy riding coattails, being unhappy and making excuses as to why they gave up on their own dreams. You've got this. And if today you were wondering if you could do it? Consider this your pep talk.

Give yourself a pat on the back for getting mocked by those who have never tried their hands at anything.

Do not get stuck in the comment section of life today.

You are not defined by the speed of your surroundings, your mind is racing.

The password to creativity is SILENCE.

It's only one date. I can do it. And you'll probably lose interest afterward." "No other woman's ever needed to give herself a pep talk to spend time with me." "That you know of.

May my words give grace to those who hear, my words are not pep talks. I hope, indeed, that my words are not even my own, but Christ's working through me.

Fortunately, however, birds don't understand pep talks. Not even St. Francis'. Just imagine," he went on, "preaching sermons to perfectly good thrushes and goldfinches and chiff-chaffs! What presumption! Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut and let the birds preach to him?

Yes, a motorcycle. Perhaps the reader is disappointed at the lack of hovering taking place. There is a congenital defect in futurism that is conjoined with the human desire to levitate. Even after flight was possible, records indicate some missing zing, some zazz, some zip, some pep, some unfulfilled yearning in all people to live as they were but move without their feet touching the ground. Perhaps people looked upon the future as a technological shortcut to divinity.

Change your emotional state Distract yourself: An emotion is only as strong as you allow it to be. Whenever you experience a negative feeling, instead of focusing on it, get busy right away. If you’re angry about something, cross something off your to-do list. If possible, do something that requires your full attention. Interrupt: Do something silly or unusual to break the pattern. Shout, do a silly dance or speak with a strange voice. Move: Stand up, go for a walk, do push-ups, dance, or use a power posture. By changing your physiology, you can change the way you feel. Listen to music: Listening to your favorite music may shift your emotional state. Shout: Talk to yourself with a loud and authoritarian voice and give yourself a pep talk. Use your voice and words to change your emotions.

Gvardiol: “The only thing that matters is power. And you must do all you can whether it be lying or killing to achieve it.” Pep: “You’re wrong! What truly matters is truth. In our actions and in our words. I’ve always known it deep down. That’s why, I seek out the Terrans and their faith. My faith.

Gmorning. This feeling will pass. This workload will pass. These people will pass. But look at you, with the gift of memory. You can time travel to the good stuff just by closing your eyes & breathing. Then come right back to now, eyes up for the good stuff ahead. You magic thing. Gnight. This moment will pass. This fatigue will pass. Tonight will pass. But look at you, with the gift of imagination. You can teleport to where you're happiest just by closing your eyes and breathing. Then come right back to now, check in with the present. You magic thing, you.

I appreciate the pep talk, Dr Worries-Too-Much. But really, I'm fine. I mean, yeah, I'm a little queasy, and I have a slight headache - but wouldn't you, if you hadn't eaten in two days? Or has it been three?" Elwin sighed. "Actually, it's probably closer to four at this point." "Okay, four," Keefe corrected, trying hard not to wince. But almost four days unconscious in the Healing Center? That was a Foster-Level of almost dying! He'd have to make sure he returned the favor the next time he saw Mom of the Year.

I do not like public ceremony, not graduations, not weddings; not pep rallies, nor church. Perhaps I simply do not understand trying to share one emotion (love, relief, faith, pep) with a quantity of strangers.

Just forget for a minute that you have spectacles on your nose and autumn in your heart. Stop being tough at your desk and stammering with timidity in the presence of people. Imagine for one second that you raise hell in public and stammer on paper. You’re a tiger, a lion, a cat. You spend a night with a Russian woman and leave her satisfied. You’re twenty five. If rings had been fastened to the earth and sky, you’d have seized them and pulled the sky down to earth

Gmorning. Did you also forget to get the lifetime warranty for your peace of mind? Saaaaame Here I got some home remedy sh*t *opens bag full of creams, alcolado, encouragement, distractions, this gif of a baby panda* Gnight. Did you also forget to get the lifetime warranty for a good night's sleep? Saaaaame Here I got some Chicken Soup For The Soul type sh*t *opens bag full of lavender sh*t, dreams, alcolado, deep breaths, flights of fantasy, this bunny at a piano*

The bigger things get the smaller and duller or flatter the globe gets. It is getting to be all one blasted little provincial suburb. When they have introduced American sanitation, morale-pep, feminism, and mass production throughout the Near East, Middle East, Far East, U.S.S.R., the Pampas, el Gran Chaco, the Danubian Basin, Equatorial Africa, Hirther Further and Inner Mumbo-land, Gondhwannaland, Lhasas, and the villages of darkest Berkshire, how happy we shall be . At any rate it out to cut down travel. There will be nowhere to go. So people will (I opine) go all the faster. (leter 53)

He is a fool, he who sabotages is way to success

Panic is for the underprepared, the out-of-control, and the fatally inconsistent.

Ripples are made by those reckless enough to jump into the ocean.

Don't die before you're dead.

The non-jocks, the readers, the gay kids, the ones starting to stew about social injustice: for these kids, "letting your freak flag fly" is both self discovery and self defense. You cry for this bunch at the mandatory pep assemblies. Huddled together, miserably, in the upper reaches of the bleachers, wearing their oversized raincoats and their secondhand Salvation Army clothes, they stare down at the school-sanctioned celebration of the A list students. They know bullying, these kids--especially the ones who frefuse to exist under the radar. They're tripped in the hallway, shoved against lockers, pelted with Skittles in the lunchroom. For the most part, their tormentors are stealth artists. The freaks know where there's refuge: I the library, the theater program, art class, creative writing.

He went through the whole pep talk with me. Michael loves you. You have options. People make it work every day. Lots of kids need good homes. But people also break up over these things. Every day. People want children of their own. They want to make children with the man or woman they love. I never thought something like this would get in my way, but I’m scared. It’s easy to say I’m valuable. He loves me for me, and if my body can’t do this, it can’t be all he needs from me. I’m worth plenty, even if I can’t give him our children, right? This isn’t my fault. I haven’t failed.

He was harassed, but still he spoke with authority. He was, in fact, characteristic of the best type of dominant male in the world at this time. He was fifty-five years old, tough, shrewd, unburdened by the complicated ethical ambiguities which puzzle intellectuals, and had long ago decided that the world was a mean son-of-a-bitch in which only the most cunning and ruthless can survive. He was also as kind as was possible for one holding that ultra-Darwinian philosophy; and he genuinely loved children and dogs, unless they were on the site of something that had to be bombed in the National Interest. He still retained some sense of humor, despite the burdens of his almost godly office, and, although he had been impotent with his wife for nearly ten years now, he generally achieved orgasm in the mouth of a skilled prostitute within 1.5 minutes. He took amphetamine pep pills to keep going on his grueling twenty-hour day, with the result that his vision of the world was somewhat skewed in a paranoid direction, and he took tranquilizers to keep from worrying too much, with the result that his detachment sometimes bordered on the schizophrenic; but most of the time his innate shrewdness gave him a fingernail grip on reality.

She isn’t simply unafraid of a good fight, she lives for it, and will often actively go looking for a fight. This is what differentiates your run-of-the-mill fighter from a crusader. The Warrior Princess Submissive is no shrinking violet. She is that dyed-in-the-wool Republican who attends the Democratic National Convention wearing a Rand Paul t-shirt. She is the African-American woman who invites herself to a Ku Klux Klan rally without a hood... and hands out business cards to everyone there. She is the woman who invites the Jehovah's Witnesses into her home and feeds them dinner, just for the opportunity to defend Christmas - even though she may be a Pagan. When the other girls in high school or college were trying out for the pep squad or cheerleading, she set her sights on the debate team. While her friends agonize over how to “fit in” socially, she is war gaming ideas on how to change society to fit her ideals and principles. Are you someone she considers to be immoral or evil? Run. She will eviscerate you.

When you find yourself in a very hard situation, a circumstance that holds you by the balls, that's the time you wish you were created a woman!(women don't own balls)

For hours after the three consecutive calls—and after the predictable banality and futility of the pep talk, after the attempt to revive the old esprit by reviving memories of his colleagues' lives, by trying to find things to say to buck up the hopeless and bring them back from the brink—what he wanted to do was not only to phone and speak to his daughter, whom he found in the hospital with Phoebe, but to revive his own esprit by phoning and talking to his mother and father. Yet what he'd learned was nothing when measured against the inevitable onslaught that is the end of life. Had he been aware of the mortal suffering of every man and woman he happened to have known during all his years of professional life, of each one's painful story of regret and loss and stoicism, of fear and panic and isolation and dread, had he learned of every last thing they had parted with that had once been vitally theirs and of how, systematically, they were being destroyed, he would have had to stay on the phone through the day and into the night, making another hundred calls at least. Old age isn't a battle; old age is a massacre.

In fact i only contemplated one thing - a happy marriage. About that i had complete self-assurance - as all my friends did. We were conscious of all the happiness that awaited us. We looked forward to love, to being looked after, cherished and admired, and we intended to get our own way in the thiggs which mattered to us while at the same time putting our husband's life, career and success before all, as was our proud duty. we didn't need pep pills or sedatives; we had belief and joy in life. We had our own personal disappointments - moments of unhappiness - but on the whole life was fun.

Outside of your relationship with God, the most important relationship you can have is with yourself. I don’t mean that we are to spend all our time focused on me, me, me to the exclusion of others. Instead, I mean that we must be healthy internally—emotionally and spiritually—in order to create healthy relationships with others. Motivational pep talks and techniques for achieving success are useless if a person is weighed down by guilt, shame, depression, rejection, bitterness, or crushed self-esteem. Countless marriages land on the rocks of divorce because unhealthy people marry thinking that marriage, or their spouse, will make them whole. Wrong. If you’re not a healthy single person you won’t be a healthy married person. Part of God’s purpose for every human life is wholeness and health. I love the words of Jesus in John 10:10: “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” God knows we are the walking wounded in this world and He wants the opportunity to remove everything that limits us and heal every wound from which we suffer. Some wonder why God doesn’t just “fix” us automatically so we can get on with life. It’s because He wants our wounds to be our tutors to lead us to Him. Pain is a wonderful motivator and teacher! When the great Russian intellectual Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn was released from the horrible Siberian work camp to which he was sent by Joseph Stalin, he said, “Thank you, prison!” It was the pain and suffering he endured that caused his eyes to be opened to the reality of the God of his childhood, to embrace his God anew in a personal way. When we are able to say thank you to the pain we have endured, we know we are ready to fulfill our purpose in life. When we resist the pain life brings us, all of our energy goes into resistance and we have none left for the pursuit of our purpose. It is the better part of wisdom to let pain do its work and shape us as it will. We will be wiser, deeper, and more productive in the long run. There is a great promise in the New Testament that says God comes to us to comfort us so we can turn around and comfort those who are hurting with the comfort we have received from Him (see 2 Corinthians 1:3–4). Make yourself available to God and to those who suffer. A large part of our own healing comes when we reach out with compassion to others.

I can't believe he's going to make me give him the speech. I am livid that he's going to make me give him the speech. I do it, piecing it together from times I've seen it done on TV and in movies. I tell him that there are many people who love him and would be crushed if he were to kill himself, while wondering, distantly, if that is the truth. I tell him that he has so much potential, that he has so many things to do, while most of me believes that he will never put his body and brain to much use at all. I tell him that we all have dark periods, while becoming ever more angry at him, the theatrics, the self-pity, all this, when he has everything. He has a complete sort of freedom, with no parents and no dependents, with money and no immediate threats of pain or calamity. He is the 99.9th percentile, as I am. He has no real obligations, can go anywhere at any moment, sleep anywhere, move at will, and still he is wasting everyone's time with this. But I hold that back--I will save that for later--and instead say nothing but the most rapturous and positive things. And though I do not believe much of it, he does. I make myself sick saying it all, everything so obvious, the reasons to live not at all explainable in a few minutes on the edge of a psychiatric ward bed, but still he is roused, making me wonder even more about him, why a fudge-laden pep talk can convince him to live, why he insists on bringing us both down here, to this pedestrian level, how he cannot see how silly we both look, and when, exactly, it was that his head got so soft, when I lost track of him, how it is that I know and care about such a soft and pliant person, where was it again that I parked my car.

All great books contain boring portions, and all great lives have contained uninteresting stretches. Imagine a modern American publisher confronted with the Old Testament as a new manuscript submitted to him for the first time. It is not difficult to think what his comments would be, for example, on the genealogies. 'My dear sir,' he would say, 'this chapter lacks pep; you can't expect your reader to be interested in a mere string of proper names of persons about whom you tell so little. You have begun your story, I admit, in fine style, and at first I was very favourably impressed, but you have altogether too much wish to tell it all. Pick out the highlights, take out the superfluous matter, and bring me back your manuscript when you have reduced it to a reasonable length.' So the modern publisher would speak, knowing the modern reader's fear of boredom.

I excuse myself and go to the ladies’ room. Washing my hands, I give myself a little you can do this type pep talk. When I walk out, I see him leaned up against the wall opposite the door. "Long line for the men's room?" I try to joke, moving past him. His hand circles my wrist, stopping me. I inhale, frozen in place. My back is to him. I don't try to pull away. I can't move. I just look down at his hand, staring at his damn freckle. "Sarah." "What are you playing at, Will?' "Playing?" He tugs my arm back so I'm facing him. "I promise you this is no game." "Alright, what do you want from me? Is that better?" I practically spit. "Everything." He's moved his hands up to hold my biceps. "I want everything from you." Everything. That one word still breaks my heart when I think back to that night. My head snaps back as though he's struck me. Don’t cry, just don’t cry. "I gave you everything once. Now I have nothing left for you." I pull myself from his grasp and hurry back to the table.

I tell Dylan I have to go to the bathroom. I shut the door and try to pee, but my dick's already sticking straight up at the ceiling. Great. I'm sure she caught that minor detail. We haven't even kissed yet. I shake my head and do my best to pee. I pull my pants back up, trying to make my hard-on less obvious. I stare at myself in the mirror and splash cold water on my face to calm down. My face flushed. I concentrate on one critical thing. Last, Gray. You've got to make it last. No two pumps, you're done. Don't be that guy. You're stronger than that. Think sports. Try to name every candy bar you can. Think about anything but what her body feel like, because as soon as you let yourself go there, It's over. Enough with the pep talk. I take a deep breath. This is it. It's what you were born to do.

When I think that I'm over you I'm overpowered Your date on my data The chromosomes match Exact as in matter A matter of fact These amourant feelings A cognitive state Need the love object To reciprocate When I think that I'm over you I'm overpowered It's long overdue I'm overpowered When I think that I'm over you I'm overpowered It's long overdue I'm overpowered A chemical reason If reason's your game A chemical needing Is there in the brain With preprogrammed meanings Like a little more pep Alien feelings We have to accept When I think that I'm over you I'm overpowered It's long overdue I'm overpowered When I think that I'm over you I'm overpowered It's long overdue I'm overpowered As science struggles on to try to explain Oxytoxins flowing ever into my brain As science struggles on to try to explain Oxytoxins flowing ever into my brain

The Misunderstood Social Butterfly   Like manipulative mothers, scheming co-workers act nice toward their intended target and present themselves as a victim. These schemers make themselves seem misunderstood and victimized to gain their target’s trust. The unwitting target then makes it his or her job to cover for the “victim,” making sure that the “victim” is protected from others.   This forms an exclusive bond between the two parties, with the manipulator effectively cutting off the target’s contact with other employees by painting them in a bad light. The target then becomes the manipulator’s personal pep squad, leaving the employee emotionally and mentally drained.   Typically, the person being manipulated in this type of relationship at work is someone who is hard working, trusting, and unfortunately, often times easy prey to a manipulator. The manipulator sees the victim as the person who is always working late and the person who always “tries to do the right thing”. The manipulator, conversely, often times is the one leaving early, skating by day-to-day, but occasionally has enough “golden opportunities” with the boss to make themselves the “favored employees”. Nearly always a gregarious and outgoing person, these manipulative people can be true terrors to those whom they manipulate.

Thanks for getting me out of there,” I murmur, lacing my fingers around my knees, and looking up at him on his step. “Yeah. You looked a little green. “ “I don’t handle crowds too well. I’ve always been that way, I guess.” “You might get in trouble,” he warns, staring at me in that strange, hungry way that unravels me. He strokes his bottom lip with a finger. For a flash of a second, his eyes look strange. Different. All glowing irises and thin dark pupils. Almost drake-like. I blink to clear my vision. His eyes are normal again. Just my imagination in overdrive. I’m probably projecting missing home and Az—everything--onto him. “Pep rallies are mandatory,” he continues. “A lot of people saw you leave. Teachers included.” “They saw you leave, too,” I point out. He leans to the side, propping an elbow on one of the steps behind him. “I’m not worried about that. I’ve been in trouble before.” He smiles a crooked grin and holds up crossed fingers. “The principal and I are like this. The guy loves me. Really.” Laughter spills from me, rusty and hoarse. His grin makes me feel good. Free. Like I’m not running from anything. Like I could stay here in this world, if only I have him. The thought unsettles me. Sinks heavily in my chest. Because I can’t have him. Not really. All he can ever be for me is a temporary fix. “But you’re worried I’ll get in trouble?” I try not to show how much this pleases me. I’ve managed to ignore him for days now and here I sit. Lapping up his attention like a neglected puppy. My voice takes on an edge. “Why do you care? I’ve ignored you for days.” His smile fades. He looks serious, mockingly so. “Yeah. You got to stop that.” I swallow back a laugh. “I can’t.” “Why?” There’s no humor in his eyes now, no mockery. “You like me. You want to be with me.” “I never said—” “You didn’t have to.” I inhale sharply. “Don’t do this.” He looks at me so fiercely, so intently. Angry again. “I don’t have friends. Do you see me hang with anyone besides my jerk cousins? That’s for a reason. I keep people away on purpose,” he growls. “But then you came along . . .” I frown and shake my head. His expression softens then , pulls at some part of me. His gaze travels my face, warming the core of me. “Whoever you are, Jacinda, you’re someone I have to let in.

The manner in which animals learn has been much studied in recent years, with a great deal of patient observation and experiment. Certain results have been obtained as regards the kinds ofproblems that have been investigated, but on general principles there is still much controversy. One may say broadly that all the animals that have been carefully observed have behaved so as to confirm the philosophy in which the observer believed before his observations began. Nay, more, they have all displayed the national characteristics of the observer. Animals studied by Americans rush about frantically, with an incredible display of hustle and pep, and at last achieve the desired result by chance. Animals observed by Germans sit still and think, and at last evolve the solution out of their inner consciousness. To the plain man, such as the present writer, this situation is discouraging. I observe, however, that the type ofproblem which a man naturally sets to an animal depends upon his own philosophy, and this probably accounts for the differences in the results. The animal responds to one type of problem in one way and to another in another; therefore the results obtained by different investigators, though different, are not incompatible. But it remains necessary to remember that no one investigator is to be trusted to give a survey of the whole field. -Bertrand Russell, Outline of Philosophy, 192731

when your actions towards acquiring leadership in any country portrays blatant mischief orchestrated towards disregarding the concepts of the constitution, you do not only become guilty of hijacking power which rightfully belong to the people, but also, you are guilty of violation of the rights of freedom of the same people that you purport to want to lead. Like any match, elections is competition towards democracy, and all competitions have rules that set guidelines in that particular competition. Any violation of such rules renders that competition invalid. True democracy does not condone compromises. True democracy upholds and adheres to the rule of law, for it is the rule of law that can explicitly define democracy.

All A players have six common denominators. They have a scoreboard that tells them if they are winning or losing and what needs to be done to change their performance. They will not play if they can’t see the scoreboard. They have a high internal, emotional need to succeed. They do not need to be externally motivated or begged to do their job. They want to succeed because it is who they are . . . winners. People often ask me how I motivate my employees. My response is, “I hire them.” Motivation is for amateurs. Pros never need motivating. (Inspiration is another story.) Instead of trying to design a pep talk to motivate your people, why not create a challenge for them? A players love being tested and challenged. They love to be measured and held accountable for their results. Like the straight-A classmate in your high school geometry class, an A player can hardly wait for report card day. C players dread report card day because they are reminded of how average or deficient they are. To an A player, a report card with a B or a C is devastating and a call for renewed commitment and remedial actions. They have the technical chops to do the job. This is not their first rodeo. They have been there, done that, and they are technically very good at what they do. They are humble enough to ask for coaching. The three most important questions an employee can ask are: What else can I do? Where can I get better? What do I need to do or learn so that I continue to grow? If you have someone on your team asking all three of these questions, you have an A player in the making. If you agree these three questions would fundamentally change the game for your team, why not enroll them in asking these questions? They see opportunities. C players see only problems. Every situation is asking a very simple question: Do you want me to be a problem or an opportunity? Your choice. You know the job has outgrown the person when all you hear are problems. The cost of a bad employee is never the salary. My rules for hiring and retaining A players are: Interview rigorously. (Who by Geoff Smart is a spectacular resource on this subject.) Compensate generously. Onboard effectively. Measure consistently. Coach continuously.