Sheet Of Inspirational Quotes

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The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? No, thank you,' he will think. 'Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, although these are things which cannot inspire envy.
Viktor E. Frankl (Man’s Search for Meaning)
Life’s too short to walk around with your arms crossed and bottom lip poked out. Find a way to smile for yourself even if it’s as simple as licking the spoon clean or putting clean sheets on your bed.
C. Toni Graham
After a hurricane comes a rainbow.
Katy Perry (Firework: Piano/vocal/guitar, Original Sheet Music Edition)
patience is the thread of healing.
Brenna Thummler (Sheets (Sheets, #1))
Yes?’ he asked, looking at me over the sheet. ‘I’m a writer temporarily down on my inspirations.’ ‘Oh, a writer, eh?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Are you sure?’ ‘No, I’m not.’ ‘What do you write?’ ‘Short stories mostly. And I’m halfway through a novel.’ ‘A novel, eh?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What’s the name of it?’ ‘”The Leaky Faucet of My Doom.”‘ ‘Oh, I like that. What’s it about?’ ‘Everything.’ ‘Everything? You mean, for instance, it’s about cancer?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘How about my wife?’ ‘She’s in there too.
Charles Bukowski (Factotum)
I will quote one sentence from this text, namely, the one with which it ended. It was also the sentence which finally dissolved the writer’s block that had inhibited the author from starting work. I have since used it whenever I myself have been gripped by fear of the blank sheet in front of me. It is infallible, and its effect is always the same: the knot unravels and a stream of words gushes out on to the virgin paper. It acts like a magic spell and I sometimes fancy it really is one. But, even if it isn’t the work of a sorcerer, it is certainly the most brilliant sentence any writer has ever devised. It runs: ‘This is where my story begins.’
Walter Moers (The City of Dreaming Books (Zamonia, #4))
Sometimes she wore Levi's with white-suede fringe sewn down the legs and a feathered Indian headdress, sometimes old fifties' taffeta dresses covered with poetry written in glitter, or dresses made of kids' sheets printed with pink piglets or Disney characters.
Francesca Lia Block (Weetzie Bat (Weetzie Bat, #1))
She preferred the quiet solitary atmosphere, to create in her own world of paint and colour, the thrill of anticipating how her works would turn out as she eyed the blank sheets of paper or canvas before starting her next masterpiece. How satisfying it was to mess around in paint gear, without having to worry about spills, starch or frills, that was the life!
E.A. Bucchianeri (Brushstrokes of a Gadfly, (Gadfly Saga, #1))
It's easier to revise lousy writing than to revise a blank sheet of paper.
S.A. Bodeen
So often is the virgin sheet of paper more real than what one has to say, and so often one regrets having marred it.
Harold Acton
There are moments in every relationship that define when two people start to fall in love. A first glance A first smile A first kiss A first fall… (I remove the Darth Vader house shoes from my satchel and look down at them.) You were wearing these during one of those moments. One of the moments I first started to fall in love with you. The way you gave me butterflies that morning Had absolutely nothing to do with anyone else, and everything to do with you. I was falling in love with you that morning because of you. (I take the next item out of the satchel. When I pull it out and look up, she brings her hands to her mouth in shock.) This ugly little gnome With his smug little grin… He's the reason I had an excuse to invite you into my house. Into my life. You took a lot of aggression out on him over those next few months. I would watch from my window as you would kick him over every time you walked by him. Poor little guy. You were so tenacious. That feisty, aggressive, strong-willed side of you…. The side of you that refused to take crap from this concrete gnome? The side of you that refused to take crap from me? I fell in love with that side of you because of you. (I set the gnome down on the stage and grab the CD) This is your favorite CD ‘Layken’s shit.’ Although now I know you intended for shit to be possessive, rather than descriptive. The banjo started playing through the speakers of your car and I immediately recognized my favorite band. Then when I realized it was your favorite band, too? The fact that these same lyrics inspired both of us? I fell in love with that about you. That had absolutely nothing to do with anyone else. I fell in love with that about you because of you. (I take a slip of paper out of the satchel and hold it up. When I look at her, I see Eddie slide her a napkin. I can’t tell from up here, but that can only mean she’s crying.) This is a receipt I kept. Only because the item I purchased that night was on the verge of ridiculous. Chocolate milk on the rocks? Who orders that? You were different, and you didn’t care. You were being you. A piece of me fell in love with you at that moment, because of you. This? (I hold up another sheet of paper.) This I didn’t really like so much. It’s the poem you wrote about me. The one you titled 'mean?' I don’t think I ever told you… but you made a zero. And then I kept it to remind myself of all the things I never want to be to you. (I pull her shirt from my bag. When I hold it into the light, I sigh into the microphone.) This is that ugly shirt you wear. It doesn’t really have anything to do with why I fell in love with you. I just saw it at your house and thought I’d steal it.
Colleen Hoover (Point of Retreat (Slammed, #2))
Everyone has ghosts. I think we all need to learn that there's no shame in letting them out.
Brenna Thummler (Delicates (Sheets, #2))
And kid, you’ve got to love yourself. You’ve got wake up at four in the morning, brew black coffee, and stare at the birds drowning in the darkness of the dawn. You’ve got to sit next to the man at the train station who’s reading your favorite book and start a conversation. You’ve got to come home after a bad day and burn your skin from a shower. Then you’ve got to wash all your sheets until they smell of lemon detergent you bought for four dollars at the local grocery store. You’ve got to stop taking everything so goddam personally. You are not the moon kissing the black sky. You’ve got to compliment someones crooked brows at an art fair and tell them that their eyes remind you of green swimming pools in mid July. You’ve got to stop letting yourself get upset about things that won’t matter in two years. Sleep in on Saturday mornings and wake yourself up early on Sunday. You’ve got to stop worrying about what you’re going to tell her when she finds out. You’ve got to stop over thinking why he stopped caring about you over six months ago. You’ve got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You’ve got to love yourself.
Anonymous
Indeed, Gabriel knew it wasn't all just empty green fields of moorland grass for miles around. Tucked within the wide landscapes of these uplands was an unpredictability that a less observant person might never be aware of. There were waterfalls concealed in swaths of wilderness, rocky stream beds ramblings in deep valleys, and...knotted sheets?
Olivia Parker (At the Bride Hunt Ball (Devine & Friends, #1))
So, time heals. Mostly. Sometimes carelessly. And in unsuspecting moments, the pain catches and reminds one of all that's been missing. The fulcrum of what might have been. But then it passes. Winter moves into spring and swallows return. The proximity of new skin returns to the sheets. Beauty does what is required. Jobs fulfil and conversations inspire. Loneliness becomes a mere Sunday. Scattered clothes. Empty bowls. Rotting fruit. Passing time. But still life in all its beauty and complexity.
Sarah Winman (Still Life)
Writing's much more romantic when its pen and ink and paper. It's... More timeless. and worthwhile. Think about it. There are so many words gushing out into the universe these days. All digitally. All in Comic Sans or Times New Roman. Silly Websites. Stupid news stories digitally uploaded to a 24-hour channel. Where's all this writing going? Who's keeping a note of it all? Who's in charge of deciding what's worthwhile and what isn't? But back then... Back then, if someone wanted to write something they had to buy paper. Buy it! And ink. And a pen. And they couldn't waste too many sheets cos it was expensive. So when people wrote, they wrote because it was worthwhile... not just because they had some half-baked idea and they wanted to pointlessly prove their existence by sharing it on some bloody social networking site.
Holly Bourne (The Manifesto on How to Be Interesting)
Karma is a balance sheet of life which debits and credit all your deeds.YourWhich is audited by our creator and actions are based on what we accumulated in it.
Abhysheq Shukla (KARMA)
Inspirations sleet through the universe continuously. Their destination, as if they cared, is the right mind in the right place at the right time. They hit the right neuron, there's a chain reaction, and a little while later someone is blinking furiously in the TV lights and wondering how the hell he came up with the idea of pre-sliced bread in the first place. Leonard of Quirm knew about inspirations. One of his earliest inventions was an earthed metal nightcap, worn in the hope that the damned things would stop leaving their white-hot trails across his tortured imagination. It seldom worked. He knew the shame of waking up to find the sheets covered with nocturnal sketches of seige engines for apple-peeling machines.
Terry Pratchett (Men at Arms (Discworld, #15; City Watch, #2))
Karma is the balance sheet of life which debits and credit all your deeds.YourWhich is audited by our creator and actions are based on what we accumulated in it.
Abhysheq Shukla (KARMA)
All I need is a sheet of paper and something to write with, and then I can turn the world upside down.
Atticus Aristotle (Success and Happiness - Quotes to Motivate Inspire & Live by)
Very quickly, very suddenly, words fell through my mind. They landed on the floor of my thoughts, an in there, down there, I started to pick the words up. They were excerpts of truth gathered from inside me. Even in the night, in bed, they woke me. They painted themselves onto the ceiling. They burned themselves onto the sheets of memory laid out in my mind. When I woke up the next day, I wrote the words down , on a torn-up piece of paper. And to me, the world changed color that morning.
Markus Zusak (Underdogs (Wolfe Brothers, #1-3))
The dance of ink over finely woven plant fibers became an act of worship, a connection to the Creator of language himself, especially when the words of a new song spilled from my heart onto a sheet of papyrus.
Connilyn Cossette (Until the Mountains Fall (Cities of Refuge, #3))
Give me, you said, on our very first night, the forest. I rose from the bed and went out, and when I returned, you listened, enthralled, to the shadowy story I told. Give me the river, you asked the next night, then I’ll love you forever. I slipped from your arms and was gone, and when I came back, you listened, at dawn, to the glittering story I told. Give me, you said, the gold from the sun. A third time, I got up and dressed, and when I came home, you sprawled on my breast, for the dazzling story I told. Give me, the hedgerows, give me the fields, I slid from the warmth of our sheets, and when I returned, to kiss you from sleep, you stirred at the story I told. give me the silvery cold, of the moon. I pulled on my boots and my coat, but when i came back, moonlight on your throat outshone the story I told Give me, you howled on our sixth night together, the wind in the trees. You turned to the wall as I left, and when I came home, I saw you were deaf to the blustering story I told. Give me the sky, all the space it can hold. I left you, the last night we loved, and when I returned, you were gone with the gold, and the silver, the river, the forest, the fields, and this is the story I’ve told. "Give
Carol Ann Duffy (Rapture)
You know better than anyone that nothing lasts. Nothing good. Nothing bad. Everything lives. Everything dies. Sometimes cities just fall into the sea. It's not a tragedy, that's just the way it is. People look around them and see the world and say this is how the world is supposed to be. Then they fight to keep it that way. They believe that this is what was intended - whether by design or cosmic accident - and that everything exists in a tenuous balance that must be preserved. But the balance is bullshit. The only thing constant in this world is the speed at which things change. Rain falls, waters rise, shorelines erode. What is one day magnificent seaside property in ancient Greece is the next resting thirty feet below the surface. Islands rise from the sea and continents crack and part ways forever. What was once a verdant forest teeming with life is now resting one thousand feet beneath a sheet of ice in Antarctica; what was once a glorious church now rests at the bottom of a dammed-up lake in Kansas. The job of nature is to march on and keep things going; ours is to look around, appreciate it, and wonder what's next?
C. Robert Cargill (Dreams and Shadows (Dreams & Shadows, #1))
Logotherapy, keeping in mind the essential transitoriness of human existence, is not pessimistic but rather activistic. To express this point figuratively we might say: The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? “No, thank you,” he will think. “Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.
Viktor E. Frankl (Man's Search for Meaning)
History can never be changed, but it can be healed.
Dutch Sheets (An Appeal To Heaven: What Would Happen If We Did It Again)
WILL is burning midnight oil- literally and metaphorically. His quill has already covered a dozen sheets. He is inspired.
Marc Norman (Shakespeare in Love: A Screenplay)
You know what I love? The spaces between I love you. The tap of your fork against the plate and how my cup of wine clicks against our table. The scratchy voice coming from the radio in the other room. The quiet sound of your hand reaching across the table and whispering over mine. How your voice sounds like your mouth on the back of my neck. The soft murmur of our easy conversation. Between these quiet Tuesday night routines, following every comma and right after every pause for breath, is I, love, and you. In the middle of every I love you is a sink full of dishes, whisper of socked feet tangled in white sheets, and gentle kisses against curved cheeks. We lyric ourselves into the laundry that needs to be finished, into the ends of every smile that follows me repeating your name. We write ourselves into the grocery bags we need to carry, the cracks running up our rented walls, the sides of the bed we choose to drag up the sails of heavy eyed dreams. Like the spaces between our fingers, in the spaces between I, love, and you, we wait. The in-betweens have always been my favorite.
Marlen Komar (Ugly People Beautiful Hearts)
The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? “No, thank you,” he will think. “Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.
Viktor E. Frankl (Man's Search for Meaning)
I enjoy the fantastic and the sheer excitement of having a sheet of white paper and a pen in one’s hand and no dictator on earth can say what word I put down – I put down what I want to put down.
Mervyn Peake
Our house is quiet, small and plain, and yet its rooms run far and wide. A hundred pencils, swift as rain, writing on sheets of beaten gold would not be quick enough to hold the strange adventures shadows hide...
Nancy Willard (The Tale I Told Sasha)
I am tired of the lifeless tears. I’ve cried so many bitter tears of yesterday because tomorrow has never come. I am immune to salty tears as I drown in an ocean of tears over and over again. When will I be able to come up for air? Sadly, life dunks my head underwater again as I cry while tears are buried beneath my sheets at night.
Charlena E. Jackson (Pinwheels and Dandelions)
We use the effect of centrifugal forces on matter to offer insight into the rotation rate of extreme cosmic objects. Consider pulsars. With some rotating at upward of a thousand revolutions per second, we know that they cannot be made of household ingredients, or they would spin themselves apart. In fact, if a pulsar rotated any faster, say 4,500 revolutions per second, its equator would be moving at the speed of light, which tells you that this material is unlike any other. To picture a pulsar, imagine the mass of the Sun packed into a ball the size of Manhattan. If that’s hard to do, then maybe it’s easier if you imagine stuffing about a hundred million elephants into a Chapstick casing. To reach this density, you must compress all the empty space that atoms enjoy around their nucleus and among their orbiting electrons. Doing so will crush nearly all (negatively charged) electrons into (positively charged) protons, creating a ball of (neutrally charged) neutrons with a crazy-high surface gravity. Under such conditions, a neutron star’s mountain range needn’t be any taller than the thickness of a sheet of paper for you to exert more energy climbing it than a rock climber on Earth would exert ascending a three-thousand-mile-high cliff. In short, where gravity is high, the high places tend to fall, filling in the low places—a phenomenon that sounds almost biblical, in preparing the way for the Lord: “Every valley shall be raised up, every mountain and hill made low; the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places a plain” (Isaiah 40:4). That’s a recipe for a sphere if there ever was one. For all these reasons, we expect pulsars to be the most perfectly shaped spheres in the universe.
Neil deGrasse Tyson (Astrophysics for People in a Hurry)
Blank sheets of paper are the fertile soil in which we cultivate the world of our imagination. We plant the seeds of dream and we water them with pitchers of dedication, fertilizing with sprinkled pellets of enthusiasm, until they sprout and bring forth the blossoming flowers of our soul--- the written children of our being, our loves, our works, our writing!
Davina J. Rush
We can be sure that we will hold on to the deathbed as part of the last balance sheet – and this part will taste bitter as cyanide – that we have wasted too much, much too much strength and time on getting angry and getting even with others in a helpless shadow theater, which only we, who have suffered importantly, knew anything about ~ Night Train to Lisbon
Pascal Mercier,
We can't expect life to stop for us, even though we all wish it could. We can't expect people to wait for us while we hide behind a sheet of glass, waiting until WE are ready for that boundary to be broken. What happened to taking a chance once in a while and simply hopping on board? Easier said than done, but it's true. So, the solution? Take someone on board with you.
Shayna {Me}
When are we going to wake up and call it what it is? They degrade blacks; instead of getting sprayed by a water hose, we are now getting sprayed with bullets! Instead of getting a peaceful night’s rest, our doors are getting kicked in! Oh, and instead of suffocating us with their white sheets or tying a noose around our necks and hanging us from a tree, they suffocate us by putting their knee on our neck instead. Let’s keep it real here. Who are we fooling? Racism has still has a heartbeat, and I do not see it dying anytime soon.
Charlena E. Jackson (Why Are You Obsessed with My Race?)
81. “When are we going to wake up and call it what it is? They degrade blacks; instead of getting sprayed by a water hose, we are now getting sprayed with bullets! Instead of getting a peaceful night’s rest, our doors are getting kicked in! Oh, and instead of suffocating us with their white sheets or tying a noose around our necks and hanging us from a tree, they suffocate us by putting their knee on our neck instead. Let’s keep it real here. Who are we fooling? Racism has still has a heartbeat, and I do not see it dying anytime soon.
Charlena E. Jackson (Why Are You Obsessed with My Race?)
The Blank Slate and its companion doctrines have infiltrated the conventional wisdom of our civilization and have repeatedly surfaced in unexpected places. William Godwin (1756–1835), one of the founders of liberal political philosophy, wrote that “children are a sort of raw material put into our hands,” their minds “like a sheet of white paper.” 12 More sinisterly, we find Mao Zedong justifying his radical social engineering by saying, “It is on a blank page that the most beautiful poems are written.” 13 Even Walt Disney was inspired by the metaphor. “I think of a child’s mind as a blank book,” he wrote. “During the first years of his life, much will be written on the pages. The quality of that writing will affect his life profoundly.
Steven Pinker (The Blank Slate: The Modern Denial of Human Nature)
Stillness pooled like blood and Devon sat, stunned and terrified to move in case her universe tilted again. The aunts were already cleaning up: wiping blood off her legs, changing the sheets around her as best they could. Someone carried the placenta away. “Your milk will be black, when it comes in,” Gailey said. “Don’t be alarmed by that. All perfectly normal.” Devon just nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. Perfectly normal? How could anything be normal ever again? Her life had been a series of twisted fairy tales in which she had imagined herself the princess, but this, here, living and breathing and snuffling in her arms, had more truth than all of her swallowed stories combined. She was her daughter’s whole world, a realization both humbling and empowering. Devon had never been anybody’s world before—had never been anything at all, in fact, except the sum of paper flesh she’d consumed without thought.
Sunyi Dean (The Book Eaters)
The conduct of affairs, for the Rationalist, is a matter of solving problems, and in this no man can hope to be successful whose reason has become inflexible by surrender to habit or is clouded by the fumes of tradition. In this activity the character which the Rationalist claims for himself is the character of the engineer, whose mind (it is supposed) is controlled throughout by appropriate technique and whose first step is to dismiss from his attention everything not directly related to his specific intentions. The assimilation of politics to engineering is, indeed, what may be called the myth of rationalist politics. And it is, of course, a recurring theme in the literature of Rationalism. The politics it inspires may be called the politics of the felt need; for the Rationalist, politics are always charged with the feeling of the moment. He waits upon circumstance to provide him with his problems, but rejects its aid in their solution. That anything should be allowed to stand between a society and the satisfaction of the felt needs of each moment in its history must appear to the Rationalist a piece of mysticism and nonsense. And his politics are, in fact, the rational solution of those practical conundrums which the recognition of the sovereignty of the felt need perpetually creates in the life of a society. Thus, political life is resolved into a succession of crises, each to be surmounted by the application of "reason." Each generation, indeed, each administration, should see unrolled before it the blank sheet of infinite possibility. And if by chance this tablula vasa has been defaced by the irrational scribblings of tradition-ridden ancestors, then the first task of the Rationalist must be to scrub it clean; as Voltaire remarked, the only way to have good laws is to burn all existing laws and start afresh.
Michael Oakeshott (Rationalism in Politics and other essays)
The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? No, thank you,' he will think. 'Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, although these are things which cannot inspire envy.
Viktor E. Frankl (Man’s Search for Meaning)
we might say: The pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes, on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? “No, thank you,” he will think. “Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.
Viktor E. Frankl (El hombre en busca de sentido)
Logotherapy, keeping in mind the essential transitoriness of human existence, is not pessimistic but rather activistic. To express this point figuratively, we might say: the pessimist resembles a man who observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. On the other hand, the person who attacks the problems of life actively is like a man who removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it neatly and carefully away with its predecessors, after first having jotted down a few diary notes on the back. He can reflect with pride and joy on all the richness set down in these notes; on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What will it matter to him if he notices that he is growing old? Has he any reason to envy the young people whom he sees, or wax nostalgic over his own lost youth? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has, the future which is in store for him? No thank you, he will think. Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past. Not only the reality of work done, and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered. These sufferings are even the things of which I am most proud, though these are things which cannot inspire envy.
Viktor E. Frankl (Man’s Search for Meaning)
In her eyes, he could see the fear, but also the love. The need. Time to show her, that to him, she meant everything. “Before you shower me with kisses for saving you –” “I think it could be argued that I played a part.” “Not when I retell the story you won’t. But we can argue about that later, naked. As I was saying, I have something for you.” Remy pulled the sheet of paper out of his back pocket and unfolded it. Initially he’d worried about it being too short. But as Lucifer assured him when he made the contract and binding, the less clauses he put in, the more his promise would stick out. Handing it to her, he waited. Fidgeted when she didn’t say a word. Almost tore it from her grasp. Then stumbled back as she threw herself at him. I, Remy, the most awesome demon in Hell, do declare to love the witch Ysabel, fiery temper and all, for an eternity. I will never stray. Never betray her trust. Never do anything to cause her pain upon penalty of permanent death. This I do swear in blood, Remy A simple contract, which in its very lack of clauses and sub items, awed her. “You love me that much?” He peered at her with incredulity on his face. “Of course I love you that much. Would I have done all the things I did if I didn’t?” “Well, you are related to a mad woman.” “Yes, and maybe it’s madness for me to love you, but I do. Do you think just any woman would inspire me enough to take on a bloody painful curse. Or put up with the fact you have a giant, demon eating cat. I know you have trust issues, and that I might not have led the kind of life that inspires confidence, but I will show you that you can believe in me. I want you to love me.” “I know you do. And I do love you. Only for you would I come to the rescue wearing nothing to cover my bottom.” His eyebrows shot up. “You came to battle in a skirt without any underwear?” A slow nod was her answer. He grinned, then scowled. “You will not do that again. Do you know how many demons live in the sewer and could have looked up your skirt? I won’t have them looking at what’s mine. On second thought. Throw out all your underwear. I’ll lead the purge on the sewers myself so you can stroll around with your girl parts unencumbered for my enjoyment.” “You’re insane,” she laughed. “Crazy in love with you,” he agreed. “But I do warn you, we’ll have to have dinner with my crazy mother at least once a month.” “Or more often. I quite like your mom. She’s got a refreshing way of viewing the world.” “Oh fuck. Don’t tell me she’s already rubbing off,” he groaned, as he pulled her into his arms. She snuggled against him. This was where she belonged. But she did have a question. “As my new… what should I call you anyway? Boyfriend? Demon I sleep with?” “The following terms are acceptable to me. Yours. Mate. Husband. Divine taster of your –” She slapped a hand over his mouth. “I’ll stick to mate.” “And I’m going with my super, sexy, touch her and die, fabulous cougar, ass kicking witch.” “I dare you shout that five times in a row without stumbling.” He did to her eye popping disbelief. “I told you, I have a very agile tongue.” “I remember.
Eve Langlais (A Demon and His Witch (Welcome to Hell, #1))
Creativity is alive And thriving in my body. The energy you bring out in me Is within me infinitely. My power is overflowing. My lips are soft and welcoming To the exhale, The new Braille, The silence that persists After our moans die away, I look at myself and say, "Root down so you can burn. Beautiful girl, it's your turn To create magic within yourself. This time, without his help. Find your roots and find your fire, Be mindful of what you desire, Persist in what you know is true, Stay focused on the endless route Toward your own potential. Allow the existential Void to swallow you whole. Take on your old role: The lone seeker. Become quieter. Become meeker. Become the beauty that you seek. Embody strength if you feel weak. Find love within the walls Of this sacred temple. Let yourself shake and tremble, But keep your eyes ever fixed On the horizon Where it's rising, No revising, Fears capsizing As you sail, sail, sail Toward the wail Of your siren spirit Beckoning you to bloom The flower in your womb, The seed of creativity, Your triumphant legacy." These words, I will carry Within me as I bury Grains of wisdom In the whispers of the wind. And when I arrive To the altar of our origin, I'll be dressed in white and black, And I'll cradle that exact Feeling left on our sheets. And you'll be on your knees, Ready to receive The wholeness of my broken mind, Pried open by The sparkle gleaming in your eyes. And your hands will be full Of supple fruit and you'll Smile at me, and I will see That you have fed your hunger. You'll ooze with courage and wonder. And then, we will know That we've already lost each other A thousand times before. And I have found you As clear water after mud settles. And you have found me As a bee deep in a flower's petals. We have danced before, Pulled art out of each other's spines. We have died and birthed and died. We've already kissed a million times. This wasn't our first five act play, And it will not be the last. So when I thirst for your hands, I will sit and chant. We will meet again. We will meet again.
Vironika Tugaleva
swirl together and our breathing clashes, my hips are busy rubbing against his. My legs spread just about as wide as I can get, forcing my pussy to open like a flower and hug his dick tight. Pushing off his chest, I lift up, grab his dick, and slam myself home. I almost can’t hear the harsh bite of his breath over my scream. I feel the rings hitting a spot deep within me that will have me begging in no time. The one pressed tight against my clit has my vision going hazy. “Have . . . to . . . move,” he warns, and once again, I find myself rolled onto my back. He doesn’t even pause when he flips and pounds into me. His hips slap against mine, his balls make a loud, wet sound as they hit my skin, and his eyes flash something I wish to God I understood. “H-h-harder!” He slams deep and leans up on his knees causing his dick to slip out almost completely. His large hands grab my hips and bring my body half off the bed. With my head still on the bed, the rest of my body hovers under his control as he pulls back and gives me my wish. My legs are dead weight, my hands clench tightly in the sheets, and my eyes hold his. The look in his eyes combined with the hard hitting of his piercings, and the awe-inspiring thrusts is enough to have me screaming. Screaming, begging, and pleading. I have lost control of my body. It is locked tight and shattering into pieces. His hips pick up speed but then slightly slow down towards the end of my release. He brings my body back down to the mattress and rocks his hips, causing a few more aftershocks to roll through my body. “Do you like my cock? Do you like having me so deep in your body you won’t be able to walk tomorrow? The way your pussy is gripping my dick and your wetness is coating my balls, I would say you fucking love it.” I whimper and he smiles. This isn’t the attractive smile he gives the public, no . . . this smile is pure fucking sexy evil. “Going to fuck you raw.” He warns before making true to his words. When he finally grabs my hips and locks our pelvises together, I have come twice and lost track of reality.
Harper Sloan (Corps Security: The Series (Corp Security, #1-5))
My wife and I have had the joy of working with thousands of college students and have engaged in countless conversations with them about what they’re going to do as they approach graduation. Up to that point, they had felt safe and secure knowing they were simply coming back to campus for another year of school. But now that they were being kicked out of the nest, they felt a strong need to pray, get counsel, pursue options, and make decisions. As I chat with these twenty-one to twenty-five-year olds, I love to pose an unusual question. “If you could do anything with your life, what would you want to do? Just for a moment, free your mind from school loans or parents’ wishes or boyfriend pressure. Put no constraints or parameters on it. Write down what you would love to do with your life if you got to choose.” There are many things in life that will catch your eye, but only a few will catch your heart. Pursue those! Most have never allowed their mind or heart to think that broadly or freely. They’ve been conditioned to operate under some set of exterior expectations or self-imposed limitations. A few have sat there so long staring at that blank sheet, I thought they might pass out! They finally get an inspirational thought, and begin enthusiastically scribbling something. They finish with a smile, pass it over to me, and I take a look. Nine out of ten times I pass it back to them, look deep into their eyes and quietly say, “Go do this.” There is a reason they feel so excited about the specific direction, cause, or vocation they wrote down. It’s because God is the One who put it in their heart. “Delight yourself in the LORD; and He will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4). “Are you delighting yourself in the Lord?” I ask the graduating senior. “I am certainly seeking to,” they reply. “Well then,” I respond, “you’ve just written down the desires of your heart. So, go for it.” Too simplistic or idealistic? I probably do have a more “wide-open” view of helping a person discover God’s direction for their life, but I believe this exercise strikes at the core of understanding what each of us were designed to do.
Steve Shadrach (The God Ask: A Fresh, Biblical Approach to Personal Support Raising)
The sheet of life's music runs in front of us in endless reams, but without the ears that God grants us they don't seem to spawn a single sound.
Craig D. Lounsbrough
I woke up last night, with a strange tingling in my stomach, and a warm bubbling in my throat. My fingers lingered on the sheets of my bed, and I gazed wondrously at the plain ceiling, a s if I was seeing something new and beautiful. The new day was silent, dark, and the grave loneliness that normally engulfed me in its cover was nothing but a protruding memory. What was this? Slowly, I pulled myself to sit, pressing my knees to my chest, my body curling at the feel of my own heart beating. There was an energy in me, a humming that swam through my bones and radiated my skin. I felt light, so unconstrained and airy, and it was new, it was so new I had no way of understanding it. My chest, the vast enclosing that hoarded my sorrows, losses, my loneliness and hurt, was empty of its burdens. Free. Hard as I tried, I could not get myself to understand why what I cared for for so long suddenly didn't mean anything to me. Where had all that sadness ran to? Where was it? Like water, the warm realization hit me. This was the absence of my sorrows. This was me, the sound of my heart pulsing, the feel of the universe embracing me, kissing me awake - this was happiness. This was it.
Rana Mohamad
Use Google Sheets as a Multilingual Chat Translator Communicating with someone who speaks and writes in another language isn't the easiest task, but this Google Sheet incorporates Google Translate so you can have a real-time chat conversation with anybody in the world. Over at the tech blog Digital Inspiration, Amit Agarwal created a Google Sheet that's powered by Google Scripts, and translates all language pairs that are supported by Google Translate in real-time. This means that once you save a copy of the Google Sheet to your own Google Drive, you can share it with anyone who writes in another language and have a real-time chat within the document. Just enter your contact's name along with yours in the cells provided, select each participants native language from a drop-down menu, and start typing in the colored fields. It may not be a 100% perfect translation, but it's a great way to communicate quickly with someone in another part of the world. For instructions on downloading the Google Sheet and how to operate it, check out the link below. Use Google Sheets for Multilingual Chat with Spears of Different Languages | Digital Inspiration
Anonymous
Tomorrow is my exam I do not fear because a single sheet of paper will not decide my future
Thamas.A.Edison
Memories are thins sheets of metal that can be easily molded or shaped. They possess the power to either tickle your heart or haunt your soul.
Mary MacDowell (Heavens To Betsey)
if you are a writer of that particular song , there will be no need of lyrics sheet to be with you.
Nishi Agrawal
Ginger and lemon biscuits These biscuits are a twist on the traditional spiced Scandinavian Christmas biscuits, and were inspired by my love of honey, ginger and lemon tea – sweet, soothing, spicy and warming. They make a lovely gift and are easily made gluten-free by using rice flour or gluten-free flour. MAKES 20–30 125g salted butter, soft 125g caster sugar 1 medium egg 50ml golden syrup 50g crystallised ginger, chopped 1 tbsp freshly grated root ginger zest and juice of 1 lemon 200g plain flour 1 tsp baking powder ¼ tsp bicarbonate of soda You can use a food processor to make this dough or mix it by hand. Cream the butter and sugar together in a bowl until pale and fluffy. Mix the egg, golden syrup, crystallised ginger, grated ginger, lemon zest and juice together in another bowl or jug, and stir the flour and raising agents together in a third bowl. Alternate between adding wet and dry ingredients in stages, mixing as you go, until the dough comes together. Place in a smaller, clean bowl, cover with clingfilm and refrigerate for 1½–2 hours. Preheat the oven to 190°C/170°C fan/gas mark 5 and line two baking sheets with baking parchment. Use a teaspoon to place little dollops of biscuit mixture on a baking sheet, taking care to space them about 4–5cm apart, so they don’t all merge during baking. Bake on the upper middle shelf for 8–10 minutes and allow to cool on a wire rack. These keep well in an airtight container for up to a couple of weeks. If the stored biscuits start to go soft, reheat them on a wire rack at 150°C/130°C fan/gas mark 2 for 5–10 minutes, then allow to cool completely on the wire rack once out of the oven to crisp them back up. VARIATION Add 50g chopped pistachios in to the biscuit dough before chilling for a nutty version.
Signe Johansen (Scandilicious Baking)
People can never relax and enjoy what they have already achieved. At all times, they have to stay alert for the next big chance. We are all creative accountants when it comes to keeping our own psychological balance sheet. The choice of when to be a chooser may be the most important choice we have to make. While upward counterfactual thinking may inspire us to do better the next time, downward counterfactual thinking may induce us to be grateful for how well we did this time. Because of adaptation, enthusiasm about positive experiences doesn't sustain itself. Even though we don't expect it to happen, such adaptation to pleasure is inevitable and it may cause more disappointment in a world of many choices than in a world of few. In general, human beings are remarkably bad at predicting how various experiences will make them feel. The challenge is to find a way to keep expectations modest, even as actual experiences keep getting better. Happy people have the ability to distract themselves and move on, whereas unhappy people get stuck ruminating and make themselves more and more miserable.
Barry Schwartz (The Paradox of Choice: Why More Is Less)
God’s Word is the most critical tool you could use. The Bible is the inspired Word of God. This means that God spoke to everyone that wrote a book in the Bible on what he wanted an account of. In the same manner, God has inspired me to write this book and has helped me to know what to include. Scripture is meant to edify, teach, correct, encourage, inspire, and give hope to all who hear and read it. Throughout this book I have shared scripture to back up what I was saying. God reveals things in scripture to those who seek it out. You can read the same passage of scripture for years, and then one day it seems a light bulb goes on. He will show you something deeper about that verse. God is multifaceted. He is not limited to one way of speaking to you, nor does he limit His Word to one message. What I mean by that is one scripture can teach you something, and then at another time, God may reveal even more meaning to that scripture. It is like there are layers to passages of scripture, just as you may pull back layers of wallpaper. Each layer is different and reveals a bit more. As you seek to draw closer to God, He will start to peel back those layers and teach you more and more, as you are able to receive it. If you are new to reading the Bible, it may seem a bit intimidating at first. Where do you start? What should you read? I suggest researching scripture that applies to what you are going through. If you are suffering from fear, then research fear. Once you have found some scriptures, read a few of the verses before and after the verse you chose to help you learn the context in which it was written. You may also want to read from Proverbs daily, consider the Psalms and the Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. May I also suggest you consider finding a Bible study group to join or at the very least purchase a beginner’s Bible study guide. Next, choose a few of the scriptures you researched that really spoke to you and write them down on a 3x5 index card. Or you may want to print each verse out on a sheet of paper. Then hang them up where you will see them, such as your bathroom mirror, above your desk at home, or even throughout your house. If you can, take a few to work with you. Each day, multiple times a day, speak those scriptures out loud. I suggest at a minimum speak them when you get up in the morning and before you go to bed at night. The spoken Word is so powerful. As I mentioned before, it is a weapon against the devil. He loses power every time you speak scripture. It also triggers your mind to believe what you say. That is why it is so important to be very careful about anything you speak. Negative thoughts start to become real to you when you speak them. These steps are things I have practiced through the years and found them to be very helpful. If you are struggling with multiple negative thoughts, it may be easier to find scripture for one at a time. Don’t overwhelm yourself with trying to deal with everything at once. You can switch out the verses or add to them as time goes on. Do what works for you.
Kathy Bates (Broken Spirit to Boundless Joy: How to Break Through Your Hurts and Take Back Your Life)
She asked me if I would visit the music class sometime and speak to the kids about the viability of a music career. A few months later I found myself there in that same music room, talking to the kids and jamming out for them. The kids were beautiful, the jamming and talking was cool, but I walked away from the experience shaken. The last time I had been in that room was twenty years before, and it had been packed full of kids playing French horns, clarinets, violins, basses, trombones, flutes, tympani, and saxophones, all under the capable instruction of orchestra teacher Mr. Brodsky. It was a room alive with sound and learning! Any instrument a kid wanted to play was there to be learned and loved. But on this day, there were no instruments, no rustling of sheet music, no trumpet spit muddying the floor, no ungodly cacophony of squeaks and wails driving Mr. Brodsky up a fucking wall. There was a volunteer teacher, a group of interested kids, and a boom box. A music appreciation class. All the arts funding had been cut the year after I left Fairfax, under the auspices of a ridiculous law called Proposition 13, a symptom of the Reaganomics trickle-down theory. I was shocked to realize that these kids didn’t get an opportunity to study an instrument and blow in an orchestra. I thought back to the dazed days when I would show up to school after one of Walter’s violent episodes, and the peace I found blowing my horn in the sanctuary of that room. I thought of the dreams Tree and I shared there of being professional musicians, before going over to his house to be inspired by the great jazzers. Because I loved playing in the orchestra I’d be there instead of out doing dumb petty crimes. I constantly ditched school, but the one thing that kept me showing up was music class. FUCK REAGANOMICS. Man, kids have different types of intelligences, some arts, some athletics, some academics, but all deserve to be nurtured, all deserve a chance to shine their light.
Flea (Acid for the Children: A Memoir)
Rhonwyn pulled it open. A jumble of objects lay inside: a pair os scissors, more papyrus sheets, a ball of string, and a screwed-up piece of papyrus shoved into the back right corner. Rhonwyn picked up the crumpled papyrus. Something made it heavier than she expected. Her breathing became shallow as she unwrapped it.
Susan Holt (The Heart Casts No Shadow)
I stand condemned before the court of human justice. The odds are not in my favor. The judge is about to give its verdict - guilty as charged. My detractors are ready to roll out the drums, happy for my downfall. My friends' faces are frozen, ashamed that they know me. As the judge prepares to give his verdict, MERCY - a friend of the court and the de facto judge - springs to his feet. He requests for the charge sheet and tears it into shreds. MERCY takes up the judge's seat, sets aside the pending judgment, and pronounces me 'discharged and acquitted'. Wow! MERCY rubbishes the credible charges and averts the certain judgment. Justice operates on facts, MERCY seeks the truth. Justice sees the past, MERCY sees into the future. If you fully understand MERCY, you must be a saint. Because, I don't. But I love it when God demonstrates it. I am even not ashamed to ask for MERCY.
Abiodun Fijabi
The boy comes home stomping and tells his father: - I'm really mad at Lucas, Dad! He embarrassed me at school and now I wish him all the worst! The father then takes him to the yard with a bag of coal and says: - Son, I want you to throw the pieces of coal on that sheet that is hanging on the clothesline, as if he were Lucas. The son, not understanding, but excited about the game, does what the father asked. In the end, the boy says he is happy to have soiled a part of the sheet, as if he were the classmate. The father then takes him in front of the mirror and to the boy's surprise, his appearance was so black, he could barely see his own eyes. The father then concluded: - See my son, the evil that we wish to others is like that coal. He could even get some of the sheet dirty, but in fact the biggest loser was the one who threw it.
Abraham Schneersohn
EVERYBODY IS SCARED OF 2021. EUROPEANS ARE LOSING JOBS, BUSINESS AND HOPE.” The Supreme Pontiff of Hinduism, Jagatguru Mahasannidhanam, His Divine Holiness Bhagavan Nithyananda Paramashivam reveals that we manifest not what we desire but what we believe in. Humans always operate from the space of fear and greed and that is what will be manifested in their reality. He further adds, “ even if one person makes the effort to have a shift in his/her thinking and have higher cognitions and thus raise their consciousness, there will be a shift in the entire humanity.” Inspired by the vision of The SPH for the whole of humanity, Kailasa’s Department of Education have been holding various conventions and summits to promote the wellbeing of global citizens mentally and physically. One of them includes the Paramashivoham program, the longest, non-stop, back-to-back program currently in its 22nd Season. Using powerful, time tested, guaranteed amalgamation of spiritual tools such as Darshan where one mirrors the neurons of the cosmic principles truths, learning about the cosmic principle truths and its direct application to live an empowered and enlightened life, manifesting those truths as part of you where as a byproduct, one starts manifesting spiritual powers just by sheet initiation from The SPH.
The SPH JGM HDH Nithyananda Paramashivam, Reviver of KAILASA - the Ancient Enlightened Hindu Nation
Shattered Silence" (aka "When Michael Calls") for that early 1970s Halloween school carnival feel. It stars a young Michael Douglas and has decidedly autumnal feel. The nostalgic/vintage Halloween also includes the classic elements of the season from ghosts made of sheets and witches flying on broomsticks to pumpkin patches, corn mazes, apple cider, apple bobbing, fall leaves, Sleepy Hollow, and the like. You might start getting inspired with some candy of your childhood with candy crate collections – 1950s, 1960s
Sharon Day (Adult Halloween: Taking Back the Season!)
The Fearless Flyer began life in 1969 during the Good Time Charley phase of Trader Joe’s as the Insider’s Wine Report, a sheet of gossip of “inside” information on the wine industry at a time where there weren’t any such gossip sheets, for the excellent reason that few people were interested in wine. As of the writing of this book, 11 percent of Americans drink 88 percent of the wine according to contemporary wine gossip magazine the Wine Spectator. In the Insider’s Wine Report we gave the results of the wine tastings that we were holding with increasing frequency, as we tried to gain product knowledge. This growing knowledge impressed me with how little we knew about food, so in 1969, we launched a parallel series of blind tastings of branded foods: mayonnaise, canned tuna, hot dogs, peanut butter, and so on. The plan was to select the winner, and sell it “at the lowest shelf price in town.” To report these results, I designed the Insider’s Food Report, which began publication in 1970. It deliberately copied the physical layout of Consumer Reports: the 8.5” x 11” size, the width of columns, and the typeface (later changed). Other elements of design are owed to David Ogilvy’s Confessions of an Advertising Man. The numbered paragraphs, the boxes drawn around the articles, are all Ogilvy’s ideas. I still think his books are the best on advertising that I’ve ever read and I recommend them. Another inspiration was Clay Felker, then editor of New York magazine, the best-edited publication of that era. New York’s motto was, “If you live in New York, you need all the help you can get!” The Insider’s Food Report borrowed this, as “The American housewife needs all the help she can get!” And in the background was the Cassandra-like presence of Ralph Nader, then at the peak of his influence. I felt, however, that all the consumer magazines, never mind Mr. Nader, were too paranoid, too humorless. To leaven the loaf, I inserted cartoons. The purpose of the cartoons was to counterpoint the rather serious, expository text; and, increasingly, to mock Trader Joe’s pretensions as an authority on anything.
Joe Coulombe (Becoming Trader Joe: How I Did Business My Way and Still Beat the Big Guys)
The pillow is that devil thing to give us dreams at night so we don’t have to follow our real ones in the day. The blanket is that ghost who gives us a glimpse of what it’s like to be dead—peaceful, but too early. So run away. Turn left. Shiver in the arctic. Burn in the Sahara. Sweat in a subway. Anything, but the sheets.
Kristian Ventura (The Goodbye Song)
1979, Ron Shaich, the future CEO of Panera Bread, left his job as regional manager for the Original Cookie Company, a shopping mall–based cookie conglomerate, to start an “urban cookie store” in Boston, where he’d gone to school, that would take advantage of all the foot traffic that downtown city streets get on a daily basis. Ron had $25,000 to get started, but that wasn’t nearly enough to open a storefront in a major American city. “I had no credibility. I had no real money. I had no balance sheet to sign a lease,” he said. “So I went to my dad and said, ‘I want my inheritance, whatever it’s going to be. I want the opportunity to use it.’” And his father agreed. He gave Ron $75,000, and with that combined $100,000 Ron opened a 400-square-foot cookie store. He called it the Cookie Jar, and within two years he had folded it into the bakery and café chain we know today as Au Bon Pain.
Guy Raz (How I Built This: The Unexpected Paths to Success from the World's Most Inspiring Entrepreneurs)
I hadn’t flown half around the world to shack up with a Cairns five. I was here for one reason: to find myself. In the first twelve hours, I had only found the guy I hated, the drunk who fucked anything that walked. The woman was adamant that I take her phone number and email. She scribbled down both on notebook paper. I grasped the sheet of paper, assuring her I’d be in touch. I gave her a final nudge toward the door and a final kiss goodbye, carefully avoiding her snaggle tooth.
Kenton Geer (Vicious Cycle: Whiskey, Women, and Water)
TAKING STOCK Imagine that you have been invited to prepare and deliver a speech describing your vision for your career a few years down the road. Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to step up to the microphone and inspire a roomful of strangers with a stirring presentation, but I do want you to take a sheet of paper or open up a fresh Word document and outline a ten-minute talk about how you see yourself working and living five years from now. Use the four essential ingredients—think long term, serve others, communicate your vision, and choose the right tools—as the major heading in the outline of your speech. Under each heading write at least three or four major points you would make as you present your speech. Under “Think Long Term,” you should list four or five specific objectives you wish to accomplish for your work and life (Carla might begin with “A business of my own that enables me to make a comfortable living using my artistic talent”). Do the same for “Serve Others” (Carla might include “Making people happier by brightening their homes and offices”). Keep going with “Communicate Your Vision” (Carla never stopped talking about her vision with the people she invited onto her virtual team) and “Choose the Right Tools” (Carla stayed abreast of the latest trends for consumer product goods entrepreneurs).
Katie C. Kelley (Career Courage: Discover Your Passion, Step Out of Your Comfort Zone, and Create the Success You Want)
The Son of a vacuum Among the tall trees he sat lost, broken, alone again, among a number of illegal immigrants, he raised his head to him without fear, as nothing in this world is worth attention. -He said: I am not a hero; I am nothing but a child looking for Eid. The Turkmen of Iraq, are the descendants of Turkish immigrants to Mesopotamia through successive eras of history. Before and after the establishment of the Ottoman Empire, countries crossed from here, and empires that were born and disappeared, and still, preserve their Turkish identity. Although, after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and the division of the Arab world, they now live in one of its countries. Kirkuk, one of the heavens of God on earth, is one of the northern governorates of Iraq in which they live. The Kurdish race is shared with them, a race out of many in Iraq. Two children of two different ethnicities, playing in a village square in Kirkuk province when the news came from Baghdad, of a new military coup. Without delay, Saddam Hussein took over the reins of power, and faster than that, Iraq was plunged into successive wars that began in 1980 with its neighbor Iran, a war that lasted eight years. Iraq barely rested for two years, and in the third, a new war in Kuwait, which did not end in the best condition as the leader had hoped, as he was expelled from it after the establishment of an international coalition to liberate it, led by the United States of America. Iraq entered a new phase of suffering, a siege that lasted more than ten years, and ended up with the removal of Saddam Hussein from his power followed by the US occupation of it in 2003. As the father goes, he returns from this road, there is no way back but from it. As the date approaches, the son stands on the back of that hill waiting for him to return. From far away he waved a longing, with a bag of dreams in his hands, a bag of candy in his pocket, and a poem of longing by a Turkmen poet who absorb Arabic, whose words danced on his lips, in his heart. -When will you come back, dad? -On the Eid, wait for me on the hill, you will see me coming from the road, waving, carrying your gifts. The father bid his son farewell to the Arab Shiite city of Basra, on the border with Iran, after the outbreak of the Iran-Iraq war, as the homeland is calling its men, or perhaps the leader is calling his subjects. In Iraq, as in many countries of the Arab world, the homeland is the leader, and the leader is the homeland. Months passed, the child eagerly anticipating the coming of the feast, but the father hurried to return without an appointment, loaded on the shoulders, the passion reached its extent in the martyr’s chest, with a sheet of paper in his pocket on which he wrote: Every morning takes me nostalgic for you, to the jasmine flower, oh, melody in the heart, oh balm I sip every while, To you, I extend a hand and a fire that ignites in the soul a buried love, night shakes me with tears in my eyes, my longing for you has shaped me into dreams, stretching footsteps to the left and to the right, gleam, calling out for me, you scream, waking me up to the glimpse of the light of life in your face, a thousand sparkles, in your eyes, a meaning of survival, a smile, and a glace, Eid comes to you as a companion, without, life yet has no trace, for roses, necklaces of love, so that you amaze. -Where is Ruslan? On the morning of the feast day, at the door of his house, the kids asked his mother, -with tears in her eyes: He went to meet his father. A moment of silence fell over the children, -Raman, with a little gut: Aunt, do you mean he went to the cemetery? -Mother: He went to meet him at those hills.
Ahmad I. AlKhalel (Zero Moment: Do not be afraid, this is only a passing novel and will end (Son of Chaos Book 1))
Have you read about the Law of Attraction before? His believers say, that a person has what looks like broadcasting and receiving channels, and these channels transmit his thoughts to the universe, and his receivers receive the results and interact with him, he is part of it as everything else, affects and is affected, and the master here is the universe, and the reason is the person, they are his thoughts that decide the response of the universe to him, it will give him back what he thinks, and it will seek to implement it for him. If you are looking for an answer to a question that has puzzled you for a long time, all you have to do is think about it, and imagine that you will find the answer in some way, imagine that moment when you know it, and then leave it to the universe, it will come to you with the answer, as long as you broadcast the idea. Based on that, if you think about something that you hate to happen, if you think about it for a long time, it will inevitably happen to you, for the law does not differentiate between good and evil, what you want and what you hate, but rather what you think. In other words, the subconscious mind is fertile, uncultivated land, and the conscious mind or brain is a seed-sowing machine. What you think about is the kind of seeds that you will sow in your subconscious mind, and your harvest will be the result of what you sow, the more you think, you are like the one who waters and plows the land and nurtures it, and in the end, the universe will be the machine of the harvest, it will inevitably make your ideas a reality for you. This law has been strengthened in all religions and customs. In religion, God alerted us to the need to monitor our thoughts well, so he says in the honorable Prophetic hadith, “I am as my servant thinks of me,” meaning that if you think well of God, he will be with you as you think. If think that he will only send you all good, God will send it to you. In all religions you will find many texts saying like this, although this completely contradicts the law of determinism in religion, God has written everything in advance, and your belief in him will not change anything in your destiny, but even your thoughts themselves, including your good thinking of him It is something he already wrote to you. As for our ancestors, they said it from the reality of their inherited experiences, they said things like that the one who is afraid of something, it will happen to him. They summarized them in the form of popular examples, which you will find in various cultures. However, what if the believers in this law understand things from the perspective of the ancient human understanding of the sense of sight, we do not receive determinism, and the universe does not make it and does not respond to us with what we think, and we cannot change it with our thoughts, we have already drawn them in advance, and we have no escape today except for reaping what we sowed. An inevitability we managed at once, in one moment. He was silent for a moment, then added: Or perhaps, we are drawing the inevitable now, Ruslan, what if I did not exist in this world before you had a need for me? And somehow you made me, and gave me a whole life, with its memories, memories that make me feel like I have lived forty whole years, and make you feel this, you arranged them for me, and you created me, to answer all the questions I have always thought of. And while I feel like I am forty, in fact, it is one second, maybe a lot less. What if we had never met in Syria before, if you were not there, and you are still retreating in your hut on the hill, thinking about the empty, the unknown, and what happened next? It is nothing but an arrangement that you did, to transcend the authority of your mind, to get you to know the answers to everything that afflicts you, even if this life is a blank sheet of paper, you are the one who arrange it and draw it, step by step.
Ahmad I. AlKhalel (Zero Moment: Do not be afraid, this is only a passing novel and will end (Son of Chaos Book 1))
Most people, when asked about their goals, are not sure of their goals or cannot articulate them in a clearly defined manner. Part of my success in business has come from teaching my employees how to dream and identify their goals through a goal-setting exercise: Write down all the things you don’t want in life. Once you have nothing left to write, draw a line after the last thing you don’t want in life. Then, on a new sheet of paper, write the opposite of what you just wrote. For example, if you wrote, “I don’t want to be poor,” then on your new sheet of paper write, “I want to be rich.” If you wrote, “I don’t want to be alone,” then write the opposite, “I want to be in a relationship.” And so on: I don’t want to be sick—I want to be healthy. I don’t want to be stuck here forever—I want to travel and see new things. Once you have completed your opposite list, make a third list: “What can I start doing today?” This list is meant to bring specifics to each thing you do want in life. For example, “What can I do today that I enjoy and will make me wealthy?” Alternatively, “If I don’t want to be lonely, what kind of activities, work, and hobbies could I do today that would allow me to have a great social presence and love life?” Or, “If I want to be healthy, what sports or exercises would I enjoy that will impact my health positively?” Once you have created the “What Can I Do Today?” list, circle the top five sentences that inspire you the most and add a reasonable timeline to take action toward these goals. Then, circle the next five and so on until everything is circled with deadlines. Keep your final list accessible so that as you begin to take action, you can adjust your list’s details and timelines. Thinking about what you don’t want and about changing that into what you do want creates a foundation for building goals with real intent and action. It also trains you to live in positivity. This is more than positive thinking. Science supports goal setting.
Andres Pira (Homeless to Billionaire: The 18 Principles of Wealth Attraction and Creating Unlimited Opportunity)
My pen keeps on penning words on these blank sheets of paper. Then words dance and create their own magic...
Avijeet Das
Pindar turned his thoughts back to time. What exactly was a moment? Was it the shortest span of time that could be represented by art? Perhaps moments were like sheets of gold leaf, hammered ever so thin, each leaf the locus for new thoughts. Time would then be a matter of layering, so that each second had a stack of moments on top, a baklava of time. Was this why his new Babylonian fragment had the word layers, then a gap where a piece was chipped out, then time? Or was that word branches rather than layers? Perhaps time wasn't flat after all. In that case, no sheaves like baklava, but filaments like kataifi, those nests made of shredded pastry drenched with syrup or honey. He saw the pastry threads as silver, now, each strand branching into new trees of silvery time growing out from each second, all of them inhabited by breath. For breathing had become necessary to his conception of time, inspiration and expiration. He needed the gods to breathe into him, breathe through him like a flute.
Grace Dane Mazur (The Garden Party: A Novel)
The energetics of DESIRE is the current or life force that’s actually inspiring every single movement that you make, whether it’s a thrust between the sheets while making sweet love to your partner or you’re building your business or your body at the gym.
Lebo Grand
The energetics of DESIRE is the current or life force that’s actually inspiring every single movement that you make, whether it’s a thrust between the sheets while making sweet love to your partner or you’re building your business or body at the gym.
Lebo Grand
The energetics of DESIRE is the current or life force that’s actually inspiring every single movement that you make, whether it’s a thrust between the sheets while making sweet love to your partner or the way you’re building your business or body at the gym.
Lebo Grand
We cannot pinpoint the presence of God but we can pinpoint the presence of fraud. One way to do this is to scan a company’s balance sheet. As, apart from employee fraud, the second – and bigger – kind of fraud is by the management itself. Figures are manipulated in order to show better quarterly results and push up the price of their stock.
Rashmi Bansal (ARISE, AWAKE THE INSPIRING STORIES OF YOUNG ENTREPRENEURS WHO GRADUATED FROM COLLEGE INTO A BUSINESS OF THEIR OWN)
A Sardarjee reported for his University final examination which consists of "yes/no" type questions. he takes his seat in the examination hall, stares at the question paper for five minutes, and then in a fit of inspiration takes his wallet out, removes a coin and starts tossing the coin and marking the answer sheet - Yes for Heads and No for Tails. Within half an hour he is all done whereas the rest of the class is sweating it out. During the last few minutes, he is seen desperately throwing the coin, swearing and sweating. The moderator, alarmed, approaches him and asks what is going on. "I finished the exam in half and hour. But, I am rechecking my answers
Sunny Kodwani (Jokes and SMS (Hindi) - New)
Religion may have brought hope and comfort to some, but it has a terribly negative balance sheet. It is no exaggeration that all the ships of all the navies in the world can float comfortably in the ocean of innocent blood that has been shed in its name. I respect religious freedom, but only subject to public order, health and morality. My religion is to make as many people happy as I can. The secular Constitution of India mandates a life guided by reason and inspired by love.
Ram Jethmalani (RAM JETHMALANI MAVERICK UNCHANGED, UNREPENTANT)
All the women, white or black or brown, who woke up like this, who came before me in this town. Think of them. Heads up, eyes on the target. Running. Full speed. Gravity be damned. Toward that thick layer of glass that is the ceiling. Running, full speed, and crashing. Crashing into that ceiling and falling back. Crashing into it and falling back. Into it and falling back. Woman after woman. Each one running and each one crashing. And everyone falling. How many women had to hit that glass before the first crack appeared? How many cuts did they get, how many bruises? How hard did they have to hit the ceiling? How many women had to hit that glass to ripple it, to send out a thousand hairline fractures? How many women had to hit that glass before the pressure of their effort caused it to evolve from a thick pane of glass into just a thin sheet of splintered ice? So that when it was my turn to run, it didn’t even look like a ceiling anymore. I mean, the wind was already whistling through—I could always feel it on my face. And there were all these holes giving me a perfect view to the other side. I didn’t even notice the gravity, I think it had already worn itself away. So I didn’t have to fight as hard. I had time to study the cracks. I had time to decide where the air felt the rarest, where the wind was the coolest, where the view was the most soaring. I picked my spot in the glass and I called it my target. And I ran. And when I finally hit that ceiling, it just exploded into dust. Like that. My sisters who went before me had already handled it. No cuts. No bruises. No bleeding. Making it through the glass ceiling to the other side was simply a matter of running on a path created by every other woman’s footprints. I just hit at exactly the right time in exactly the right spot. So I’m breaking my family’s rule today. This is a trophy for participation. And I am beyond honored and proud to receive it. Because this? Was a group effort. Thank you to all the women in this room. Thank you to all the women who never made it into this room. And thank you to all the women who will hopefully fill a room one hundred times this size when we are all gone. You are all an inspiration.
Shonda Rhimes (Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand In the Sun and Be Your Own Person)
Life is a sheet of blank papers and pen: “We write our life like one made in heaven.” Sadly though, some don’t have the pen with them: “It’s others doing the writing for them.
Rodolfo Martin Vitangcol, The Pink Poetry
Crappy weather conditions moved back in while the jet jockeys were playing over Nam. Rain began to fall in sheets across the Flight Deck. We, the flight service personnel, had to stand in the downpour awaiting the recoveries. Soaked to the bone, my teeth were chattering. The A-4 Skyhawks came in first and taxied forward. I intentionally positioned myself in the exhaust path of the A-4s just to warm up. Because of the low ceiling, landing conditions were hazardous. A couple of aircraft missed the wire and had to rocket off the angle deck, circle around and try again. Lieutenant Commander Sonniksen caught the wire on his first attempt. I hate to admit it but the guy is one hell of a pilot.
Gerald Maclennon (God, Bombs & Viet Nam: Based on the Diary of a 20-Year-Old Navy Enlisted Man in the Vietnam Air War - 1967)
Which it literally could be. Many of history’s greatest thinkers, leaders, scientists, artists, and entrepreneurs found some of their greatest inspiration going for walks. Beethoven used to take walks carrying blank pages of sheet music and a pencil. The Romantic poet William Wordsworth used to write as he took walks around a lake where he lived. Ancient Greek philosophers like Aristotle would lecture their students while taking long walks with them, often working out their ideas at the same time. Two thousand years later, the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche would say, “It is only ideas gained from walking that have any worth.” Einstein refined many of his theories about the universe while walking around the Princeton University campus. The writer Henry David Thoreau would say, “The moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow.
Arnold Schwarzenegger (Be Useful: Seven Tools for Life)