Ripe Inspirational Quotes

Silence It has a sound, a fullness. It's heavy with sigh of tree, and space between breaths. It's ripe with pause between birdsong and crash of surf. It's golden they say. But no one tells us it's addictive.

Ideas too sometimes fall from the tree before they are ripe.

We often hesitate to follow our intuition out of fear. Most usually, we are afraid of the changes in our own life that our actions will bring. Intuitive guidance, however, is all about change. It is energetic data ripe with the potential to influence the rest of the world. To fear change but to crave intuitive clarity is like fearing the cold, dark night while pouring water on the fire that lights your cave. An insight the size of a mustard seed is powerful enough to bring down a mountain-sized illusion that may be holding our lives together. Truth strikes without mercy. We fear our intuitions because we fear the transformational power within our revelations.

The erruption of feelings & emotions that follows a near-death exerience, or any event that causes us to stop & look deeply at the reality of our lives, is ripe with the potential for insight & clarity.

Everyday can be extraordinary And ripe, Like a flower burst, If the will is there.

Peace is eternal. It is never too late to have peace. Time is always ripe for that. We can make our life truly fruitful if we are not cut off from our Source, which is the peace of Eternity.

I did pick up a few tolerably ripe and breezy expressions out in France. All through my military career there was something about me - some subtle magnetism, don't you know, and that sort of thing - that seemed to make Colonels and blighters of that sort rather inventive. I sort of inspired them, don't you know.

I am ripe. Ripe enough to hear your Truth. But shout it for one ear remains deaf.

The wise man does not grow old, but ripes.

Most people delay an activity because they are waiting for the right moment, for the moment when the situation will be ripe or they will possess the perfect strategy for accomplishing something…in other word...NEVER.

The Age Of Reason 1. ‘Well, it’s that same frankness you fuss about so much. You’re so absurdly scared of being your own dupe, my poor boy, that you would back out of the finest adventure in the world rather than risk telling yourself a lie.’ 2. “ I’m not so much interested in myself as all that’ he said simply. ‘I know’, said Marcelle. It isn’t an aim , it’s a means. It helps you to get rid of yourself; to contemplate and criticize yourself: that’s the attitude you prefer. When you look at yourself, you imagine you aren’t what you see, you imagine you are nothing. That is your ideal: you want to be nothing.’’ 3. ‘In vain he repeated the once inspiring phrase: ‘I must be free: I must be self-impelled, and able to say: ‘’I am because I will: I am my own beginning.’’ Empty, pompous words, the commonplaces of the intellectual.’ 4. ‘He had waited so long: his later years had been no more than a stand-to. Oppressed with countless daily cares, he had waited…But through all that, his sole care had been to hold himself in readiness. For an act. A free, considered act; that should pledge his whole life, and stand at the beginning of a new existence….He waited. And during all that time, gently, stealthily, the years had come, they had grasped him from behind….’ 5. ‘ ‘It was love. This time, it was love. And Mathiue thought:’ What have I done?’ Five minutes ago this love didn’t exist; there was between them a rare and precious feeling, without a name and not expressible in gestures.’ 6. ‘ The fact is, you are beyond my comprehension: you, so prompt with your indignation when you hear of an injustice, you keep this woman for years in a humiliating position, for the sole pleasure of telling yourself that you are respecting your principles. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were true, if you really did adapt your life to your ideas. But, I must tell you once more…you like that sort of life-placid, orderly, the typical life of an official.’ ‘’That freedom consisted in frankly confronting situations into which one had deliberately entered, and accepting all one’s responsibilities.’ ‘Well…perhaps I’m doing you an injustice. Perhaps you haven’t in fact reached the age of reason, it’s really a moral age…perhaps I’ve got there sooner than you have.’ 7. ‘ I have nothing to defend. I am not proud of my life and I’m penniless. My freedom? It’s a burden to me, for years past I have been free and to no purpose. I simply long to exchange it for a good sound of certainty….Besides, I agree with you that no one can be a man who has not discovered something for which he is prepared to die.’ 8. ‘‘I have led a toothless life’, he thought. ‘ A toothless life. I have never bitten into anything. I was waiting. I was reserving myself for later on-and I have just noticed that my teeth have gone. What’s to be done? Break the shell? That’s easily said. Besides, what would remain? A little viscous gum, oozing through the dust and leaving a glistering trail behind it.’ 9.’’ A life’, thought Mathieu, ‘is formed from the future just like the bodies are compounded from the void’. He bent his head: he thought of his own life. The future had made way into his heart, where everything was in process and suspense. The far-off days of childhood, the day when he has said:’I will be free’, the day when he had said: ’I will be famous’, appeared to him even now with their individual future, like a small, circled individual sky above them all, and the future was himself, himself just as he was at present, weary and a little over-ripe, they had claims upon him across the passage of time past, they maintained their insistencies, and he was often visited by attacks of devastating remorse, because his casual, cynical present was the original future of those past days.

Damask roses and white picket fences, a childhood ripe with an array of senses. Forest black against starry skies, Pink clouds dusting an early sunrise. Hundreds of days slipping through hourglass years. The sands of adolescence fading with solemn tears. Oceans of certainty ebbing away, Lessons learned regardless of one's place.

THE ANTHEM OF HOPE Tiny footprints in mud, metal scraps among thistles Child who ambles barefooted through humanity’s war An Elderflower in mud, landmines hidden in bristles Blood clings to your feet, your wee hands stiff and sore You who walk among trenches, midst our filth and our gore Box of crayons in hand, your tears tumble like crystals Gentle, scared little boy, at the heel of Hope Valley, The grassy heel of Hope Valley. And the bombs fall-fall-fall Down the slopes of Hope Valley Bayonets cut-cut-cut Through the ranks of Hope Valley Napalm clouds burn-burn-burn All who fight in Hope Valley, All who fall in Hope Valley. Bullets fly past your shoulder, fireflies light the sky Child who digs through the trenches for his long sleeping father You plant a kiss on his forehead, and you whisper goodbye Vain corpses, brave soldiers, offered as cannon fodder Nothing is left but a wall; near its pallor you gather Crayon ready, you draw: the memory of a lie Kind, sad little boy, sketching your dream of Hope Valley Your little dream of Hope Valley. Missiles fly-fly-fly Over the fields of Hope Valley Carabines shoot-shoot-shoot The brave souls of Hope Valley And the tanks shell-shell-shell Those who toiled for Hope Valley, Those who died for Hope Valley. In the light of gunfire, the little child draws the valley Every trench is a creek; every bloodstain a flower No battlefield, but a garden with large fields ripe with barley Ideations of peace in his dark, final hour And so the child drew his future, on the wall of that tower Memories of times past; your tiny village lush alley Great, brave little boy, the future hope of Hope Valley The only hope of Hope Valley. And the grass grows-grows-grows On the knolls of Hope Valley Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom Across the hills of Hope Valley The midday sun shines-shines-shines On the folk of Hope Valley On the dead of Hope Valley From his Aerodyne fleet The soldier faces the carnage Uttering words to the fallen He commends their great courage Across a wrecked, tower wall A child’s hand limns the valley And this drawing speaks volumes Words of hope, not of bally He wipes his tears and marvels The miracle of Hope Valley The only miracle of Hope Valley And the grass grows-grows-grows Midst all the dead of Hope Valley Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom For all the dead of Hope Valley The evening sun sets-sets-sets On the miracle of Hope Valley The only miracle of Hope Valley (lyrics to "the Anthem of Hope", a fictional song featured in Louise Blackwick's Neon Science-Fiction novel "5 Stars".

All things are recreated, and the flame Of consentaneous love inspires all life. The fertile bosom of the earth gives suck To myriads, who still grow beneath her care, Rewarding her with their pure perfectness; The balmy breathings of the wind inhale Her virtues and diffuse them all abroad; Health floats amid the gentle atmosphere, Glows in the fruits and mantles on the stream; No storms deform the beaming brow of heaven, Nor scatter in the freshness of its pride The foliage of the ever-verdant trees; But fruits are ever ripe, flowers ever fair, And autumn proudly bears her matron grace, Kindling a flush on the fair cheek of spring, Whose virgin bloom beneath the ruddy fruit Reflects its tint and blushes into love.

She was like no woman he’d ever known. She inspired compassion and fury at the same time, made him want to hold her tenderly even when he thought he might strangle her. How the hell did she do that? Why didn’t she fight him instead of pressing against him, whetting his appetite for her even more with the ripe sweetness of her body? And damn it all to hell, how could a kiss make him want to toss aside the promise he’d made to her father and compromise what honor he had left? Because of this kiss, he was in danger of doing just that-and in danger of making love to Rose with her mother under the same roof. If he did that then he’d know he truly had no honor left. If that wasn’t a proverbial bucket of cold water, he didn’t know what was.

Banana by Maisie Aletha Smikle Ripe banana green banana Boil banana bake banana Roast banana fried banana Shred banana mash banana Banana porridge Banana bread Banana cake Banana flake Banana pudding Banana dumpling Banana muffin Banana punch Banana at breakfast Banana at lunch Banana for snack Banana at supper Chocolate joined banana Peanut butter pineapple papaya Peach strawberry blueberry cherry Ice cream and whip cream too They got on a banana boat Manned by a bearded goat And made a banana float While sailing around the moat Banana got festive And turned into a balloon Then made a banana cartoon Where banana got whipped into a dip Banana fritter banana batter Banana is whipped And beaten into batter Banana split finding solitude with nuts on a sundae

I did it the hard way Many of the big dreams I dreamt, I dreamt, when I met a failed attempt. Life taught me to believe that Great ideas can start from a wretched hut. Many of the strongest steps I took, I took, when I was given the fiercest look. My passion pokes me to understand That people’s mockeries, I can withstand. Many of the fastest speeds I gained, I gained when I was bitterly stained. I first thought the only way was to quit As I tried again, I no longer have guilt. Many of the bravest decisions I made, I made, when my life was about to fade. I was frustrated and ripe to sink. But then I strive to release the ink. Many of the longest journeys I started, I started, having no resource; money parted I relied on God my creator all dawn long And at dusk He gave me a new song. Many of the hardest questions I tackled, I tackled, when I was heckled. They were very troublesome to settle But I make it happen little by little Yet, it was not I, but the Lord Jesus The saviour who gives me success. In Him, through Him and by Him I have the liberty to do everything with vim. I don’t want to enjoy this liberty alone. You too must step out of your comfort zone. It’s not easy, but you can do it anyway. Jesus is the life, the truth and the way.

Some quotes from Standing Stark: “The mind is the charioteer of experience, while the body is the vehicle that carries out the orders of its driver. The gift we have been given is the one called possibility, whose intent offers to tie all together, creating strands of a whole life rather than a disintegrated one.” “It is our own microcosmic journey that gives life meaning and weaves us into the macrocosm of existence. Life does begin with each of us. It then expands outward to touch others with how we live.” “At some time in our lives, we receive a signal to arouse from a deep sleep. If we answer the cue, we set out on a journey toward authenticity that takes us into the unknown. We begin to separate from the selves we thought we were and search for who we are.” “Set your intent and let it go. Your intent is your beginning. Worrying about the details detracts from the intent. In your strong intent, the attraction will take care of the details.” “The conscious realization I offer now is that when we learn to trust, we will be led to all we ever need. Our only job is to be awake and follow the lead.” “We can gauge the measure of truth in our lives by the lightness of our body, emotions and energy. We need only be aware in any given moment of the state of our being, and be guided. This is what we are asked to do on the spiritual path. We aren’t headed for a continuing chaotic free fall, but an order of divine nature.” “After all, if we’re on the spiritual path, we can trust that there is much we don’t know. These mysteries are hidden from us until we are ripe. The paradox is that we frantically attempt to know in order to surrender to the place of not knowing! The other paradox is that there are no mysteries because the cues are surrounding us all the time. We’re just too tied up to recognize them.” “There comes a time when we are knowingly left with the ramifications of the choices we make. While it would be comforting to think that the progressions we undertake will be painless and smooth, any change involves conflict between what was and what will be. Therein lies the opportunity for learning and alignment to an authentic life.” “Words are the shell. They feed intellectual knowledge. What lies in the middle of words is the seed that, if presented and embraced in a certain way, will take us to the place we seek.

So, judges, what was your favorite dish?" The producer stepped back so the cameras could pan over the long table. Tarquin answered. "A crisp almond tart." Sophia's heart began to pound. "Smooth lemony custard. Light as air." She clenched the edge of her worktable. "Only one person chose the boysenberries as an ingredient today. They were ripe, juicy, bursting with flavor. But somewhat difficult to wrestle with in terms of tartness. This contestant made a truly inspired syrup, infused with basil... and lemon thyme, I think." Jonathan shrugged. "I can't wait to find out how this syrup was created." Sophia started to sway. The blogger smiled. "I love lemon. It's bright. It's sunny. But I don't have a big sweet tooth. This dish was not too sweet. It was lovely." "And best of all," Tarquin interrupted, "a little surprise under the tart. Hidden. Using the organic bittersweet chocolate we provided. Well played." "And the flowers!" Jenny sighed. "This plate captures the very essence of summer. Sprinkled with flower petals.

And because I’m a widow, you assume I’m ripe to your trickery and silver tongue.” “I’m a Roma. You describe my specialty.

Maturity is the ripe fruit of age.

Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness; You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs, And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory. Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance, Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot And not to be trapped by withering laurels. And in you I have found aloneness And the joy of being shunned and scorned. Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield, In your eyes I have read That to be enthroned is to be enslaved, And to be understood is to be leveled down, And to be grasped is but to reach one’s fullness And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed. Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion, You shall hear my songs and my cries and my silences, And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings, And urging of seas, And of mountains that burn in the night, And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul. Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage, You and I shall laugh together with the storm, And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us, And we shall stand in the sun with a will, And we shall be dangerous.

Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness; You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs, And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory. Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance, Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot And not to be trapped by withering laurels. And in you I have found aloneness And the joy of being shunned and scorned. Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield, In your eyes I have read That to be enthroned is to be enslaved, And to be understood is to be leveled down, And to be grasped is but to reach one’s fullness And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed. Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion, You shall hear my songs and my cries and my silences, And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings, And urging of seas, And of mountains that burn in the night, And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul. Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage, You and I shall laugh together with the storm, And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us, And we shall stand in the sun with a will, And we shall be dangerous.

Recognizing Your Strengths The strengths you have inside your core. All the strengths represent the self in the world. The values you stand behind the virtues of living a fruitful life. Your values leading the path for you to be recognized by the deeds you do. The internal strengths that shine within you. The kindness you have, help bonding the world. The love you spread, nurtures the world. The forgiveness you have, begin the healing in the world. The humility inside you, representing you bringing out the best of you. The fairness you treat the world, you are showing a leader in the world. The love of learning you practice doing, you are bringing light in the world. The spirituality you practice, peace will follow. The talents you have matter in this world. Artistic gift of yours brings a colorful world. Literate gift of yours inspires the world. Engineering gift of yours advance the world. Athletic gift of yours impresses the world. All the strengths you have mean everything to us all. Recognizing your strengths a beginning of all. Working hard in nurturing your strengths you are helping us all. One day we all can ripe your fruit feeding us all.

In a smell it all came back...that autumn rain, the scent of a love that once was ripe, that immense hunger to touch the tender wound for it is still so raw and fresh. The scent of the quiet evenings still smells in the breeze..Love letters..how they hold the memories of yesterday!..

n a smell it all came back..that autumn rain, the scent of a love that once was ripe, that immense hunger to touch the tender wound for it is still so raw and fresh. The scent of those quiet evenings still smells in the breeze ...Love letters..how they hold the memories of yesterday!...

The fruits of every laborer are bountiful, ripe and sweet just as the laborer's input. The laws of compensation do not allow one to have a bumper harvest against poor sowing and maintenance... If you want a good opportunity you must be willing to put input which is beyond the opportunity demands going the extra mile. Dont play your self , you must go the extra mile.

Roll over on your side. I would like to cuddle up with someone who is exceedingly pretty and worth some tender regard.” “So I might be inspired to whisper confidences to you?” Ellen asked, shifting carefully in the hammock. Val waited for her to get situated then rolled to his side and began stroking his hand over her shoulders, neck, and back. “The boys said you were not your most sanguine today.” Val felt the tension particularly across her shoulders, exactly where his own usually ached when he’d finished a good round of Beethoven. “Have you confidences to share?” “I do not. You will put me to sleep if you keep that up.” “Then you can dream of me, and I will dream of you—and vegetables.” “Vegetables?” Ellen quirked a glance at him over her shoulder. “Green beans, tomatoes, peppers, you know the kind.” Val kissed her nape. “Fruit helps, but I am beside myself with longing for vegetables. I could write a little rhapsody to the buttered green bean, so great is my torment.” “I understand this torment.” Ellen rolled her shoulders. “By the end of June, I am practically sleeping in my vegetable patch, so desperately do I want that first bowl of crisp, ripe beans. Mine are almost ready.” “And what about you?” Val kissed her nape again. “Are you ready?” His

You know the saying, “Four months between planting and harvest.” But I say, wake up and look around. The fields are already ripe for harvest. —John 4:35

With a different perspective and collaboration, what field in your life could become ripe for harvest? — Sunny Marie Hackman —

Recognizing Your Strengths The strengths you have inside your core. All the strengths represent the self in the world. The values you stand behind the virtues of living a fruitful life. Your values leading the path for you to be recognized by the deeds you do. The internal strengths that shine within you. The kindness you have, help bonding the world. The love you spread, nurtures the world. The forgiveness you have, begin the healing in the world. The humility inside you, representing you bringing out the best of you. The fairness you treat the world, you are showing a leader in the world. The love of learning you practice doing, you are bringing light in the world. The spirituality you practice, peace will follow. The talents you have matter in this world. Artistic gift of yours brings a colorful world. Literary gift of yours inspires the world. Engineering gift of yours advance the world. Athletic gift of yours impresses the world. All the strengths you have mean everything to us all. Recognizing your strengths a beginning of all. Working hard in nurturing your strengths you are helping us all. One day we all can ripe your fruit feeding us all.

It was the difference between strawberry jam and a perfect, sun-ripe strawberry. Other people he’d desired had been jam. He’d seen them, liked them, saw potential in them, thought of what he might do with them, how they’d combine. Corbin was a strawberry. If you had any sense at all, you took it as it was and you never questioned it. You didn’t add sugar and you didn’t add heat. You didn’t put it in a sandwich or use it in a cake. You didn’t do anything to it because it was already as absolutely, perfectly a strawberry as it would ever be. You recognized it, and were grateful for it. And, if you were lucky, you savored it.

Go into the depths of your longing. Let it fill you with awe and tear you apart with terror for beauty comes with fright as light with darkness, drought with rain. This is the grand, sublime, powerful force of life where dreams and despair coexist filling life with aliveness and meaning, youth and ripeness. It is then that beauty and terror interplay to transcend life's storms, pulling into light something so utterly beautiful...

In a smell it all came back...that autumn rain, the scent of a love that once was ripe, that immense hunger to touch the tender wound for it is still so raw and fresh. Those quiet evenings still smell in the breeze ...Love letters..how they hold the memories of yesterday!...

Inside a stone lies the fruit, tender and ripe. Even a desert can grow flowers..the warm stir ....and all that was old turns to gold as you drink the wine of life, the sweet sap held within the stone...

Inside the stone lies a fruit, tender and ripe. Even a desert can grow flowers..the warm stir and all that was old turns to gold as you drink the wine of life, the sweet sap held within the stone...

In the core of a stone is a fruit, tender and ripe. Even a desert can grow flowers..the warm stir and all that was old turns to gold as you drink the wine of life, the sweet sap held within the stone..

In a smell it all came back...that autumn rain ..the scent of a love that once was ripe..that immense hunger to touch the tender wound...for it is still so raw and fresh...Those quiet evenings still smell in the breeze ...Love letters..how they hold the memories of yesterday!...

Insincerity can walk, but it can't run.

Sound so ripe, all of thy fibs, in my ear.

See Him in the vernal beauty of the flower, In the ripe glory of the autumnal glow; In summer's rich and radiant festal hour, In winter's purest, fairest robes of snow: There art Thou!

Immersive tech like virtual reality inspires such rich emotions that it’s ripe for abuse. It’s still in its infancy, though, so it’s too soon to know whether it will be used responsibly.

I am writing to say something, but not because I was asked to, but because I really have something to say…I only say something when my words, like ripe fruit, can no longer hold onto the branch and must confront the hard and unforgiving ground they are about to encounter.

I get inspired to write by watching the news. I listen to conversations I shouldn't listen to. I pay attention to my fears. I ask 'what if?' all the time. I remember things from my childhood. I think of themes, not storylines. I listen to my characters, and let them tell me what the story is. I never force anything. I listen to lots of music. I watch lots of movies. I let my mind wander. I read so much my eyes feel like they're going to fall out of my head. I wait until the fruits of my labor are ripe before eating them.