Rude Inspirational Quotes

If you are rude, cynical, habitually-sarcastic or pessimistic, your life options are going to be very limited.

Don't hang out with people who are: Ungrateful Unhelpful Unruly Unkindly Unloving Unambitious Unmotivated or make you feel... Uncomfortable

They were almond cookies, although they could have been made of spinach and shoes for all I cared. I ate eleven of them, right in a row. It is rude to take the last cookie.

Replacing rudeness and impatience with the Golden Rule may not change the world, but it will change your world and your relationships.

In general, poor is polite and rich is rude.

The gotta, as in: “I think I’ll stay up another fifteen-twenty minutes, honey, I gotta see how this chapter comes out.” Even though the guy who says it spent the day at work thinking about getting laid and knows the odds are good his wife is going to be asleep when he finally gets up to the bedroom. The gotta, as in: “I know I should be starting supper now — he’ll be mad if it’s TV dinners again — but I gotta see how this ends.” I gotta know will she live. I gotta know will he catch the shitheel who killed his father. I gotta know if she finds out her best friend’s screwing her husband. The gotta. Nasty as a hand-job in a sleazy bar, fine as a fuck from the world’s most talented call-girl. Oh boy it was bad and oh boy it was good and oh boy in the end it didn’t matter how rude it was or how crude it was because in the end it was just like the Jacksons said on that record — don’t stop til you get enough.

People need to understand that not everyone is out to hurt you. There are still some great people in this world. Do not allow yourself to believe that everyone is up to no good. Just because you have encountered some rude people along the way, doesn't mean that everyone is that way. When it comes to matters of the heart, Know which bridges to cross and which ones to burn.

Death is here and death is there, Death is busy everywhere, All around, within, beneath, Above is death - and we are death. Death has set his mark and seal On all we are and all we feel, On all we know and all we fear, First our pleasures die - and then Our hopes, and then our fears - and when These are dead, the debt is due, Dust claims dust - and we die too. All things that we love and cherish, Like ourselves must fade and perish; Such is our rude mortal lot - Love itself would, did they not.

So you are tired of your life, young man! All the more reason have you to live. Anyone can die. A murderer has moral force enough to jeer at his hangman. It is very easy to draw the last breath. It can be accomplished successfully by a child or a warrior. One pang of far less anguish than the toothache, and all is over. There is nothing heroic about it, I assure you! It is as common as going to bed; it is almost prosy. Life is heroism, if you like; but death is a mere cessation of business. And to make a rapid and rude exit off the stage before the prompter gives the sign is always, to say the least of it, ungraceful. Act the part out, no matter how bad the play. What say you?

The voices may propel you to warble along, or to dance, they may inspire you to seduction or insurrection or inspection or merely to watching a little less television. The voices of Barrett Rude Jr. and the Subtle Distinctions lead nowhere, though, if not back to your own neighborhood. To the street where you live. To things you left behind. And that's what you need, what you needed all along.

Resentment leads to rude behaviour.

Everyone in this world is your kin, so be kind to everyone and rude to no one.

Some students are mean, spoiled, rude, and seem as though they do not have a loving bone in their bodies.

You never know how strong you are until you've been tested. People will try you on every level. They may think because you're not loud or rude like them that you won't put them in their place. But, push the wrong buttons and you'll soon find out.

In-existence, the soul’s greatest imposition is its perfection. It is projected as a perfected form of the physical embodiment, an emblem of things, perhaps hyperreal and untouchably perfect as existence. It can not be! The soul in-existence is nothing of perfection. It is raw potential. The soul is nothing but potential. To be specific, the soul is unordered potential!

Bullies have issues within themselves and they are uncomfortable in their skin. So, they’d rather make someone feel bad to pick themselves up. I wonder why people want to be so cruel with their words. The kids that bully me are so rude, nasty and disrespectful. How can a person feel good for making someone else feel bad? I do not understand.

It's more difficult to be loving than rude. Be kind anyway while you could.

Be kind to all and rude to no one.

By behaving elegantly, you inspire others to behave elegantly; by behaving rude, you invite others to behave rude! You change others when you change yourself!

A woman of faith is not rude by nature. She just cannot be pushed around by the enemy.

It is better to be soft and kind than strong and rude.

I would rather be kind and simple and poor than rude and rich.

You’re absolutely right. You’re absolutely right. It’s staggering how you jump straight the hell into the heart of a matter. I’m goosebumps all over… By God, you inspire me. You inflame me, Bessie. You know what you’ve done? Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve given this whole goddam issue a fresh, new, Biblical slant. I wrote four papers in college on the Crucifixion—five, really—and every one of them worried me half crazy because I thought something was missing. Now I know what it was. Now it’s clear to me. I see Christ in an entirely different light. His unhealthy fanaticism. His rudeness to those nice, sane, conservative, tax-paying Pharisees. Oh, this is exciting! In your simple, straightforward bigoted way, Bessie, you’ve sounded the missing keynote of the whole New Testament. Improper diet. Christ lived on cheeseburgers and Cokes. For all we know he probably fed the mult—

You shall see rude and sturdy, experienced and wise men, keeping their castles, or teaming up their summer’s wood, or chopping alone in the woods, men fuller of talk and rare adventure in the sun and wind and rain, than a chestnut is of meat; who were out not only in ‘75 and 1812, but have been out every day of their lives; greater men than Homer, or Chaucer, or Shakespeare, only they never got time to say so; they never took to the way of writing. Look at their fields, and imagine what they might write, if ever they should put pen to paper. Or what have they not written on the face of the earth already, clearing, and burning, and scratching, and harrowing, and plowing, and subsoiling, in and in, and out and out, and over and over, again and again, erasing what they had already written for want of parchment.

Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not eny anyone or anything. Love never boasts and it's never proud. Love is not rude, it's not self serving, self absorbed or conceited. Love is no t easily provoked to anger. It doesn't hold grudges nor does it keep records of who was right and who was wrong. Love does not consult with evil instead it rejoices in the truth. Love always protects. Love always trust. Love always hopes. Love always perseveres. And love never fails.

Be courteous, kind, and forgiving. Be gentle and peaceful each day. Be warm and human and grateful, And have a good thing to say. Be thoughtful and trustful and childlike, Be witty and happy and wise. Be honest and love all your neighbors, Be obsequious, purple, and clairvoyant. Be pompous, obese, and eat cactus. Be dull and boring and omnipresent. Criticize things you don’t know about. Be oblong and have your knees removed. Be sure to stop at stop signs, And drive fifty-five miles an hour. Pick up hitchhikers foaming at the mouth, And when you get home get a master’s degree in geology. Be tasteless, rude, and offensive. Live in a swamp and be three-dimensional. Put a live chicken in your underwear. Go into a closet and suck eggs.

The multitude of men look satisfied and pleased; as if enjoying a full banquet, as if mounted on a tower in spring. I alone seem listless and still, my desires having as yet given no indication of their presence. I am like an infant which has not yet smiled. I look dejected and forlorn, as if I had no home to go to. The multitude of men all have enough and to spare. I alone seem to have lost everything. My mind is that of a stupid man; I am in a state of chaos. Ordinary men look bright and intelligent, while I alone seem to be benighted. They look full of discrimination, while I alone am dull and confused. I seem to be carried about as on the sea, drifting as if I had nowhere to rest. All men have their spheres of action, while I alone seem dull and incapable, like a rude borderer. (Thus) I alone am different from other men, but I value the nursing-mother (the Tao).

It is better to be gentle than rude.

Do not be devilish.

It is better to be polite than rude.

I follow three rules: find the opportunity to love and love endlessly, be kind to all and rude to none, and serve others with care and know that service is joy.

Never justify being rude; never forget to be kind.

Being rude to someone loving all the time can make your loving behavior same as your rude one for that person. So you should not always be rude in small mistakes

I came out, my morals unimproved, my hatred to my oppressors encreased tenfold. Bread and water did not tame my blood, nor solitary confinement inspire me with gentle thoughts. I was angry, impatient, miserable; my only happy hours were those during which I devised schemes of revenge...years passed on; and years only added fresh love of freedom, and contempt for all that was not as wild and rude as myself.

Whenever something bad happens, do not forget to smile. Even if you have to deal with this really arrogant, ruthless tycoon. You never know, sometimes a very rude and arrogant person can be melted with a heartfelt smile.

She herself was of the opinion that there would have been no need for a wish consultant if grammar had been taught properly in schools, so that mundanes could be trained to mean exactly what they said. Not wishing to be rude to her guest, however, she kept this opinion to herself.

Good manners, in the end, are nothing but the way in which respect is expressed. Since respect, in its turn, is a feeling inspired by the presence of an admitted superior, wherever hierarchies are absent—real or fictitious, but revered—good manners die out. Rudeness is a democratic product.

No amount of money can buy you a career in the RAF. You are judged purely on your ability, your courage, and your appetite for facing danger. I loved my family and respected and admired the traditions and benefits of our privilege, but I was determined to make my own way in life. It was probably this that drove my ambition, that made me push myself harder than most people.

This life belongs to you dear, Don’t live under any fear.. You are an independent soul..you can do anything, You are a free soul..you can refuse to do a particular thing.. You are different from them..you are a different soul, And you cannot get dominated by any other soul! Don’t be rude..be generous …be kind, But THIS IS YOUR LIFE AND NOT THEIRS..keep this in mind!

I came out, my morals unimproved, my hatred to my oppressors encreased tenfold. Bread and water did not tame my blood, nor solitary confinement inspire me with gentle thoughts. I was angry, impatient, miserable; my only happy hours were those during which I devised schemes of revenge...years passed on, and years only added fresh love of freedom, and contempt for all that was not as wild and rude as myself.

For months beforehand, I fielded calls from British media. A couple of the reporters asked me to name some British chefs who had inspired me. I mentioned the Roux brothers, Albert and Michel, and I named Marco Pierre White, not as much for his food as for how—by virtue of becoming an apron-wearing rock-star bad boy—he had broken the mold of whom a chef could be, which was something I could relate to. I got to London to find the Lanesborough dining room packed each night, a general excitement shared by everyone involved, and incredibly posh digs from which I could step out each morning into Hyde Park and take a good long run around Buckingham Palace. On my second day, I was cooking when a phone call came into the kitchen. The executive chef answered and, with a puzzled look, handed me the receiver. Trouble at Aquavit, I figured. I put the phone up to my ear, expecting to hear Håkan’s familiar “Hej, Marcus.” Instead, there was screaming. “How the fuck can you come to my fucking city and think you are going to be able to cook without even fucking referring to me?” This went on for what seemed like five minutes; I was too stunned to hang up. “I’m going to make sure you have a fucking miserable time here. This is my city, you hear? Good luck, you fucking black bastard.” And then he hung up. I had cooked with Gordon Ramsay once, a couple of years earlier, when we did a promotion with Charlie Trotter in Chicago. There were a handful of chefs there, including Daniel Boulud and Ferran Adrià, and Gordon was rude and obnoxious to all of them. As a group we were interviewed by the Chicago newspaper; Gordon interrupted everyone who tried to answer a question, craving the limelight. I was almost embarrassed for him. So when I was giving interviews in the lead-up to the Lanesborough event, and was asked who inspired me, I thought the best way to handle it was to say nothing about him at all. Nothing good, nothing bad. I guess he was offended at being left out. To be honest, though, only one phrase in his juvenile tirade unsettled me: when he called me a black bastard. Actually, I didn’t give a fuck about the bastard part. But the black part pissed me off.

Young love,” she said. “It doesn’t matter how old you get, you always remember it. You spend five minutes with someone and suddenly you never want to spend a moment apart. They become your sole focus and make you happier, more excited, and more inspired than anything before. They become your armor and give you strength and bravery and make you feel unstoppable. Life doesn’t seem so bad now that you have someone to share it with.” Arthur gulped—he couldn’t have described it better himself. “That is, until it stops,” Mother Goose said. “Then everything comes to an earth-shattering, heartbreaking, and rude-awakening halt. You feel foolish for ever having been so happy, and embarrassed for letting it show, and the world has never seemed so terrible.” “Sounds familiar,” Arthur said. Mother Goose leaned a little closer to him, and seriousness grew in her eyes. “Love is wonderful, magical, and beautiful, but it can also be maddening, damaging, and dangerous,” she said. “It blinds us more than anything. It makes us selfish, it makes us feel like nothing else matters, and it tricks us into thinking the rest of the world doesn’t exist—but it does exist. Whether you’re on the high or low side of love, the world always moves on.

If Shakespeare be considered as a MAN born in a rude age and educated in the lowest manner, without any instruction either from the world or from books, he may be regarded as a prodigy; if represented as a POET capable of furnishing a proper entertainment to a refined or intelligent audience, we must abate much of this eulogy. In his compositions, we regret that many irregularities, and even absurdities, should so frequently disfigure the animated and passionated scenes intermixed with them; and, at the same time, we perhaps admire the more those beauties on account of their being surrounded by such deformities. A striking peculiarity of sentiment, adapted to a single character, he frequently hits, as it were, by inspiration; but a reasonable propriety of thought he cannot for any time uphold. Nervous and picturesque expressions as well as descriptions abound in him; but it is in vain we look either for purity or simplicity of diction. His total ignorance of all theatrical art and conduct, however material a defect, yet, as it affects the spectator rather than the reader, we can more easily excuse than that want of taste which often prevails in his productions, and which gives way only by intervals to the irradiations of genius. [....] And there may even remain a suspicion that we overrate, if possible, the greatness of his genius; in the same manner as bodies often appear more gigantic on account of their being disproportioned and misshapen.

Their Graces bought me, you know. They’d acquired my brother Devlin the year before, and my mother, inspired by this development, threatened to publish all manner of lurid memoirs regarding His Grace.” Acquired her brother? As if he were a promising yearling colt or an attractive patch of ground? “You are going to burden me with the details of your family past, I take it?” “You are the man who glories in details.” Without the least rude inflection, she made it sound like a failing. “My point is that my mother sold me. She could just as easily have sold me to a brothel. It’s done all the time. Unlike your sisters, Mr. Hazlit, I do not take for granted the propriety with which I was raised. You may ignore it if you please; I will not.” She had such a lovely voice. Light, soft, lilting with a hint of something Gaelic or Celtic… exotic. The sound of her voice was so pretty, it almost disguised the ugliness of her words. “How old were you?” “Five, possibly six. It depends on whether I am truly Moreland’s by-blow or just a result of my mother’s schemes in his direction.” Six years old and sold to a brothel? The food he’d eaten threatened to rebel. “I’m… sorry.” For calling her a dollymop, for making her repeat this miserable tale, for what he was about to suggest. She turned her head to regard him, the slight sheen in her eyes making him sorrier still. Sorrier than he could recall being about anything in a long, long time. Not just guilty and ashamed, but full of regret—for her. The way he’d been full of regret for his sisters and powerless to do anything but support them in their solitary struggles. He shoved that thought aside, along with the odd notion that he should take Magdalene Windham’s hand in some laughable gesture of comfort. He passed her his handkerchief instead. “This makes the stated purpose of my call somewhat awkward.” “It makes just about everything somewhat awkward,” she said quietly. “Try a few years at finishing school when you’re the daughter of not just a courtesan—there are some of those, after all—but a courtesan who sells her offspring. I realized fairly early that my mother’s great failing was not a lack of virtue, but rather that she was greedy in her fall from grace.” “She exploited a child,” Hazlit said. “That is an order of magnitude different from parlaying with an adult male in a transaction of mutual benefit.” “Do you think so?” She laid his handkerchief out in her lap, her fingers running over his monogrammed initials. “Some might say she was protecting me, providing for me and holding the duke accountable for his youthful indiscretions.” Despite her mild tone, Hazlit didn’t think Miss Windham would reach those conclusions. She might long to, but she wouldn’t. By the age of six a child usually had the measure of her caretakers. And to think of Maggie Windham at six… big innocent green eyes, masses of red hair, perfect skin… in a brothel. “I

Love learns to respect others. Love never fails. Love endures everything. Love is not rude. Love sends out prayers to others in love.

Of the seven Archons that had combined to form the Milky Way mind, Orion had been the Archon whose verve and remorseless drive inspired and frightened and tempted the others into cooperation. Of the twenty-five Authorities forming the long-lost Orion Arm, the Benedictine was the most significant and influential of the ancient forefathers. The Benedictines were combination of three Dominions, issuing from the Collective at the Praesepe Cluster, the Abstraction at Orion Nebula, and the Empyrean at the Hyades Cluster. The Empyreans issued from a world called Eden, allegedly outside Hyades itself, and had displaced the original inhabitants of Hyades, a rude confederation of Virtues, Hosts, and races who names even devout paleohistorians could not with certainty invoke. Occupying the debris of the oldest archival strata were traces of the legendary founder of this Domination, an Empyrean called the Judge of Ages. He was the direct lineal ancestor of the memory chains of the last-known warlord of the Milky Way. Variations of him existed everywhere, of course; he was the base template for nearly every emissary form known in the Milky Way, and the founder of the Count-to-Infinity cliometric which had replaced the Cold Equations of the Interregnum. But such emissaries had been sent to Andromeda and rejected, even destroyed. No recent version of the countless copies would do, nor was there time to send to the core of the Milky Way, where the vast warlord Archon was last known to have been active. Once of the necromancers—call her Alcina—sought his ghost where others had overlooked, in one of the oldest archives, well preserved, amid the Austerity of the Cygnus Arm. Alcina reconstructed him, mind and body, comparing this core to many other records, carefully parsing away amendments and mythical excrescences of later editors. And Menelaus Montrose came to life once more, swearing.

You will never climb Career Mountain and get to the top and shout, ‘I made it!’ You will rarely feel done or complete or even successful. Most people I know struggle with that complicated soup of feeling slighted on one hand and like a total fraud on the other. Our ego is a monster that loves to sit at the head of the table, and I have learned that my ego is just as rude and loud and hungry as everyone else’s. It doesn’t matter how much you get; you are left wanting more. Success is filled with MSG.

we live our lives from the "inside", from the vantage point of our own personal mini-cam on life. This gives us privileged access to what's going on inside our own heads. But sometimes we can be too close to ourselves to see us as we truly are. We lack perspective, objectivity. That's where friends can help. Friends can tell you when you're selfish or rude or making a total fool of yourself. Conversely, they can let you know when you're being kind or generous or need to lighten up on yourself.

But what bothers me, when I let it, is the way our new kitchen conforms so completely to the tenor of the times—our modern propensity, I mean, for cleaving to the sin and escaping the penalty. Go ahead, drive like a mania, we’ll protect you with air bags. Go on, drink your sweet soda, we took out the sugar. Type sloppy, IBM will correct you; be rude, we’ll excuse you for your insecurities; be spendthrift, there’s always a credit card . . . all these things being wholly at odds with the moral climate I grew up in, where if you sinned, you suffered, and the retributions was approximately immediate. Drive crazy, you got hurt. Be a pig, you got sick. Type sloppy, you typed it over. Be rude, you got smacked. Be extravagant you went broke.

I understood now that you could be as soft as the silken draperies, shine like the copper candle holders, and have something tick quietly inside you and never miss a beat, even if you lived in a rude sod hut in the wilderness.

They saw me as an “Important Manager” at an “Important Company,” whereas the colleagues who’d started out with me at New York Tech just saw me as Ed. As my position changed, people became more careful how they spoke and acted in my presence. I don’t think that my actions changed in a way that prompted this; my position did. And what this meant was that things I’d once been privy to became increasingly unavailable to me. Gradually, snarky behavior, grousing, and rudeness disappeared from view—from my view, anyway. I rarely saw bad behavior because people wouldn’t exhibit it in front of me.

Yes please” sounds powerful and concise. It’s a response and a request. It is not about being a good girl; it is about being a real woman. It’s also a title I can tell my kids. I like when they say “Yes please” because most people are rude and nice manners are the secret keys to the universe.

If you have realized how powerful a simple act of kindness is, you will never be rude.

The Hittites, in fact, must be regarded as the first teachers of the rude populations of the West. They brought to them a culture the first elements of which had been inspired by Babylonia;

If you have a big idea or plan that you desire to execute, don't depend solely on others to appreciate your efforts. You must have the ability to encourage yourself. At times seeking encouragement from others can lead to disappointment which sometimes leads you to neglect your obligation. Never build your hopes and dreams based primarily on the accolades from others. You may discover a rude awakening.

Ignorance. It claws, tears, and eventually destroys the threads that hold humanity together. These people all around me saying not this, not that… Their tongues untied with the rudeness they fear not to speak To those they know nothing of, nothing about. Your hair is too tangled, your thighs too fat Your religion, your morals, you can’t possibly believe in that. I do, someone else does too. You are ignorant.

How dare you make such suggestions when you have no idea what it is you're talking about. Of course you've always been this way; conceited, arrogant, rude to others around you when they don't match up to your ridiculously.." high standards...

When you have done all that you can do, A true Mother will always stick by you. You may think sometimes that she is rude. She has to be because this world can be crude.

Being kind at responding when someone is not nice in their voice tone, rude comments and their thoughtlessness in their speech against you takes great grace.

In all my twenty years of wandering over the restless waters of the globe I can only remember one Christmas Day celebrated by a present given and received. It was, in my view, a proper live-sea transaction, no offering of Dead Sea fruit; and in its unexpectedness perhaps worth recording. Let me tell you first that it happened in the year 1879, long before there was any thought of wireless message, and when an inspired person trying to prophesy broadcasting would have been regarded as a particularly offensive nuisance and probably sent to a rest-cure home. We used to call them madhouses then, in our rude, cave-man way.

As a researcher deeply immersed in the field of human interaction, universal laws, and the profound impacts of education on societal behaviors, I posit that ghosting transcends mere social rudeness; it might be a manifestation of our internal psychological landscapes. Ghosting could reflect our deepest fears of abandonment, our struggles with self-worth, or even a subconscious desire for an undefined existence in relationships. My exploration into this phenomenon suggests that education in emotional intelligence and self-awareness could serve as a beacon, not only illuminating the path to heal from ghosting but also to prevent it. By understanding that our external experiences might mirror our internal states, we can foster a society where empathy and presence are not just valued but are the norm. This isn't just about changing individual behaviors; it's about transforming our collective social fabric through knowledge and empathy.

Ya gotta pull some weeds if ya want flowers in your life.

When you find yourself mentally or literally drumming your fingers while someone else is talking, stop the drumming. Stop demonstrating impatience when listening to someone. Stop saying (or thinking) “Next!” It’s not only rude and annoying, but it’s sure to inspire your employees to find their next boss.

Love is kind and patient, never jealous, boastful, proud, or rude. Love isn’t selfish or quick tempered. It doesn’t keep a record of wrongs that others do. Love rejoices in the truth, but not in evil (CEV ).

A heart consumed by pride and darkness often spews forth venomous words, wrapped in arrogance, rudeness, and irritability, poisoning the air and souls around them, revealing the true character of the evil within.

There cannot be greater rudeness than to interrupt another in the current of his discourse.

If you are too quiet, you are weak If you are too loud, you are rude If you get irritated be explaining the same thing over and over, you are irritated period If you are trying to progress, you are doing it wrong No matter what you do or say, it isn't up to you on how others see you. Each person sees you differently at home a loving family member at work a crazy person that complains all the time With friends bubbly and carefree Its never up to you So just be you Don't worry about how others see you They cannot control what the Almighty can If there's a lesson learn from it If there is a truth acknowledge it But if there is negativity banish it!

Leadership isn't easy – it requires courage, kindness, humility, and boldness to be successful. But don't let the pitfalls of rudeness, weakness, laziness, and arrogance trip you up! If you want to be a leader worth following, strike the balance between courage and confidence…and take decisive actions along the way!

Don’t judge people with their rude or impolite nature, sincere people wear their true nature, only cunning foxes like to cajole strangers , so my son please beware of the people who gives you false promises than people who are rude and impolite to you --From Spice trader of Muziris

LaForche for his standing, understood Christina’s seditious intents, and for that, he monitored and hated the rude Vixen of Woe. Innumerable times they had quarresquabbled, sometimes very loudly, both during and after class. Christina’s wit, as fast as her blade, for the most part won the scathingly bitter, single-edged dialogues, much to the chagrin and embarrassment of LaForche. It was no big secret that trying to deal with his Anti-Mr. Spock logic was like trying to cross a baking salt-flat desert mid-summer with nothing to drink or eat except stale crackers and a big jar of out-dated defunct Peter Pan peanut butter, its original “crunch” now being only pasty sand mouth goo. She often asked herself how could you argue against no mind. It was an unassuming study in stupility to say the least. —Christina Brickley, The Lady and the Samurai

Yet to the end he had a personality that could set the Rhine on fire. Some loved it, others wished he could be at least a little less rude and raw. Certainly he was no stained-glass ideal. Perhaps, though, such a red-blooded and blunt man was just what was needed for the momentous and seemingly impossible task of challenging all Christendom and turning it around. He was shock-therapy for the world. And, somehow, his personality seems fit for the gospel he uncovered: he inspires no moral self-improvement in would-be disciples; instead, his evident humanity testifies to a sinner’s absolute need for God’s grace.

A woman of faith is not rude in her nature. She just cannot allow to be pushed around by the enemy.

I was so burned and emaciated and ill that I staggered through the streets like a drunk. Some of the locals turned their backs on this terrible procession but others jeered and spat at us. I was past caring. There must have been at least a hundred of us, and then came an incredible and inspiring episode. As we stumbled along in the pouring rain someone started singing. It was ‘Singin’ in the Rain’, and slowly we all took up the song and joined in, singing a very rude version of the hit – complete with altered lyrics crudely deriding our Japanese captors. Even in this terrible condition and after all we had been through, my comrades, ravaged by exposure, naked and in slavery, were defiant, their spirits unbroken.

Keep pointed in the right direction. If ya stumble you'll land in the right place.

As my position changed, people became more careful how they spoke and acted in my presence. I don’t think that my actions changed in a way that prompted this; my position did. And what this meant was that things I’d once been privy to became increasingly unavailable to me. Gradually, snarky behavior, grousing, and rudeness disappeared from view—from my view, anyway. I rarely saw bad behavior because people wouldn’t exhibit it in front of me. I was out of a certain loop,

A powerful man is not rude by nature. He is secure in who he is and does not go around trying to prove his power. His actions resonate louder and reflect power.

At the Thanksgiving table, show consideration for others and appreciate them genuinely. Do not judge them harshly, do not criticize them unfairly, and do not ignore them rudely.

Attractiveness shines from inside you, outwards. (It’s not about what you look like.) When you’re happy kind and loving, you’re BEAUTY FULL like SUNSHINE! Your glow warms everyone you meet. But, when you’re angry, mean, whingy, sulky or rude you become CLOUDY. And your cold, murky fog drives people away. Behind every cloud, the sun shines. It’s up to you to push your clouds away

When you’re happy kind and loving, you’re BEAUTY FULL like SUNSHINE! Your glow warms everyone you meet. But, when you’re angry, mean, whingy, sulky or rude you become CLOUDY. And your cold, murky fog drives people away. Behind every cloud, the sun shines. It’s up to you to push your clouds away