Shining Beacon Quotes

Yep, she called to me from the parking lot of abandoned cars. The sun was shining though her windows like a beacon of hope." Chubs groaned. "Why are you so weird?" "Because my weird has to be able to cancel out your weird, Lady Cross-stitch.

Even if I turned ninety, lost my mind and forgot everytging else, the memory of the Winter prince would be a shining beacon that would never fade

You shine like a beacon in a dark world.

Thank you for being the most comforting part of my life right now. Thank you for always being the beacon I need every time I feel lost. Whether you mean to shine on me or not. I am grateful for you. I’ve missed you. I absolutely should have kissed you.

Humans--in their infinite injustice--have wronged you, but you'll find your rightful place again. Your light shines too brightly not to be a beacon for others.

Because you're unique . You shine like a beacon, attracting the attention of all dark things." It chuckled. "Why do you think I'm chatting with you?

I'll be able to forget you after that." A bald-faced lie. Even if I turned ninety, lost my mind and forgot everything else, the memory of the Winter prince would be a shining beacon that would never fade. Ash still wavered, looking torn. His eyes flicked to the door, and for a moment I thought he would walk away, leaving me to shrivel into a mortified heap. But then he let out a quiet sigh, and his shoulders slumped in resignation. Meeting my gaze, he took one step forward, drew me into his arms, and brushed his lips to mine. I think our last kiss was meant to be quick and chaste, but... There was nothing sweet or gentle in our last kiss; it was filled with sorrow and desperation, of the bitter knowledge that we could've had something perfect, but it just wasn't meant to be. "Don't ask me this again," he rasped, and I was too breathless to answer.

You are a light. You are the light. Never let anyone—any person or any force—dampen, dim or diminish your light. Study the path of others to make your way easier and more abundant. Lean toward the whispers of your own heart, discover the universal truth, and follow its dictates. […] Release the need to hate, to harbor division, and the enticement of revenge. Release all bitterness. Hold only love, only peace in your heart, knowing that the battle of good to overcome evil is already won. Choose confrontation wisely, but when it is your time don't be afraid to stand up, speak up, and speak out against injustice. And if you follow your truth down the road to peace and the affirmation of love, if you shine like a beacon for all to see, then the poetry of all the great dreamers and philosophers is yours to manifest in a nation, a world community, and a Beloved Community that is finally at peace with itself.

In the land of Gods and Monsters I was an Angel Living in the garden of evil Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed Shining like a fiery beacon You got that medicine I need Fame, Liquor, Love give it to me slowly Put your hands on my waist, do it softly Me and God, we don't get along so now I sing No one's gonna take my soul away I'm living like Jim Morrison Headed towards a fucked up holiday Motel sprees sprees and I'm singing 'Fuck yeah give it to me this is heaven, what I truly Want' It's innocence lost Innocence lost In the land of Gods and Monsters I was an Angel Looking to get fucked hard Like a groupie incognito posing as a real singer Life imitates art You got that medicine I need Dope, shoot it up, straight to the heart please I don't really wanna know what's good for me God's dead, I said 'baby that's alright with me' No one's gonna take my soul away I'm living like Jim Morrison Headed towards a fucked up holiday Motel sprees sprees and I'm singing 'Fuck yeah give it to me this is heaven, what I truly Want' It's innocence lost Innocence lost When you talk it's like a movie and you're making me Crazy - Cause life imitates art If I get a little prettier can I be your baby? You tell me, "life isn't that hard" No one's gonna take my soul away I'm living like Jim Morrison Headed towards a fucked up holiday Motel sprees sprees and I'm singing 'Fuck yeah give it to me this is heaven, what I truly Want' It's innocence lost Innocence lost

He's gawking at me when I open the door. "Damn girl," he says, looking me over, "what the hell are you trying to do to me?" I look down at myself, still trying to wake up the rest of the way and realize I'm in those tiny cotton white shorts and varsity tee with no bra on underneath. Oh my God, my nipples are like beacons shining through my shirt! I cross my arms over my chest and try not to look at him i the eyes when he helps himself the rest of the way inside. "I was going to tell you to get dressed," he goes on, grinning as he walks into the room carrying his bags and the guitar, "but really, you can go just like that if you want." I shake my head, hiding the smile creeping up on my face.

And you and I know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and, yes, that’s an expression, something people say, that has no meaning, but what I mean is there isn’t anybody in the whole world who has loved me the way you have, not my mother, not my old man, not my friends. There’s nothing preventing me and you from loving each other and being some kinda world-class shining beacon of love except how bad do we want it and what are we willing to do for it? Now, I know I did you wrong, and I was freaking out and being stupid and I was mean to you. You know sometimes I get all fucking confused and I can’t see outside of my own asshole. I’m unhappy. Why am I unhappy? It’s gotta be somebody’s fault, right? It couldn’t just be that I’m a self-centered fuck spinning around inside my own dank cloud of concerns. There isn’t anything I can think of that I really want or that the best part of me wants, that loving you won’t start doing. I love you.

There are moments that stand out from the chaos of everyday as shining beacons,” University of Chicago professor Mihaly Csikzentmihalyi writes. “In many ways, one might say that the whole effort of humankind through millennia of history has been to capture these fleeting moments of fulfillment and make them a part of everyday existence

Clarity is what a person’s psychology is always endeavouring to return to. Innate clarity and resilience are always shining a beacon, even when a person seems hopelessly lost…

Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the foundation of America. These acts shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve. America was targeted for attack because we're the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining.

But someone has opened the door to a dark room within me, and the light has been lit within, like a beacon shining in the dark. And all is clear, and yet, still hidden in shadow, and I finally understand some of what you tell me, because someone else understands. Life is an adventure, even unto death, which is only yet another. The road is worth traveling well.

Life is depressing and hopeless enough, without imbibing further depression and hopelessness through story. I don’t care how realistic people like to think that is. It’s not what inspires me, or makes me love and cherish a book or a television show or a movie. When I am imbibing fiction, I want to be inspired. I want bold tales, told boldly. I want genuine Good People who, while not perfect, are capable of rising beyond their ordinary beginnings. To make a positive difference in their world. Even when all hope or purpose might seem lost. Because this is what I think fiction—as originally told around the campfires, through verbal legend—ought to do, more than anything else: Illuminate the way, shine a spiritual beacon, tell us that there is a bright point in the darkness, a light to guide the way, when all other paths are cast in shadow.

In its essence, Martin Luther King Jr.’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech is one citizen’s soul-searing plea with his countrymen––Whites and Blacks––to recognize that racial disparities fueled by unwarranted bigotry were crippling America’s ability to shine as a true beacon of democracy in a world filled with people groping their way through suffocating shadows of political turmoil, economic oppression, military mayhem, starvation, and disease.

Darkness enables us to shine.

Let no one steal your light with their lies or their cruelty. Shine on, through it all. Shine in spite of their hatred. In spite of the hurt they give. Let them all choke on your light until it blinds them and washes away whatever meanness they’re intent to spew. Tomorrow, no one will remember what cruel thing they said, but they will remember how you held your head high during the storms. They will remember the brightness of your smile and the way you laughed while they tried to bring you down. Let your laughter be the beacon that warms the world.

It is such a rare thing in this world to find someone who is not constantly trying to impress someone, be liked, or fill empty airspace with mindless chatter. A person who is completely, unapologetically okay with who they are and what they feel is like a beacon of light in the dark. As author Anne Lamott once said, “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.

I smiled at him, the first true smile I’d had in as long as I could remember. The kind that started from the inside and shone outward like a beacon. “There it is,” he rasped, his eyes shining with joy. “What?” I asked quietly. “My light,” he replied simply.

We need our literary heroes. Life is dark and complicated but they shine out. They’re the beacons that we follow.

This kind of hero worship has been promoted by politicians and their complicit media since the middle of the last century. Once you convince people that a particular public figure is more than human—is a shining beacon and icon of everything that his or her supporters hold sacred, questioning any of their actions or decisions automatically becomes sacrilege.

And just like that, the long, black tunnel has a light at the end, a shining beacon, and I feel a little less lost.

It saved me in more ways than I can count. Because I knew no matter how afraid I felt, I wasn't truly alone. Angharad's eyes were shining now, too. "That's all I wanted, you know," she said. "When I was young-when I was your age. I wanted just one girl, only one, to read my book and feel that she was understood, and I would be understood in return. Writing that book was like shining a beacon from a lighthouse, I suppose. Are there any ships on the horizon? Will they signal back to me? I never got the chance to know. My husband's name was all over it, and his was the only ship I could see." "I saw it," Effy whispered. "I see it. And it saved me.

When we recognize that our personal good coincides with the Good of everyone, our inner light is turned on: at this point, when a human being becomes a Human Angel, their light, like a beacon, shines all around. The more lights are lit, the more humanity will be enlightened in these dark times, when the world of the ego, driven to its extreme, has begun its dramatic collapse.

Miss Emily went on shaking her head. ‘It was never true. Even before the Morningdale scandal, even back when Hailsham was considered a shining beacon, an example of how we might move to a more humane and better way of doing things, even then, it wasn’t true. It’s best to be clear about this. A wishful rumour. That’s all it ever was. Oh dear, is that the men come for the cabinet?

Here is the true secret of the Law of Attraction: You have a core vibrational frequency. It is purely uniquely you. It's a beacon. It's like a lighthouse. It shines. It radiates purely that signature frequency of your unique being. It never stops radiating that light, that frequency, that energy - never stops. Everything that is in alignment with that frequency is doing its utmost to come to you. Everything that is not aligned with that frequency is doing its utmost to get as far away from you as it possibly can. If the things that are aligned with that beacon aren't reaching you, it's not because "you're not vibrating at the resonance that you need to attract it". It's because your definitions and beliefs are holding it away. If the things that are trying to get away from you can't get away from you, it's not because they're not trying - it's because you're holding onto them. So the true Secret of the Law of Attraction is not "how to learn to attract what you prefer", it's how to learn to let go of what you don't, so that you can let in what is trying to get to you automatically - by definition. That's the true Secret and that's why it's effortless. It's just about letting go and letting in. It's not about having to learn to do something you're not already doing.

Balcy had left the City and could not re-enter. The City was no longer his; the Caves of Steel were alien. This had to be; and it would be so for others and Earth would be bom again and reach outwards. His heart beat madly and the noise of life about him sank to an unheard murmur. He remembered his dream on Solaria and he understood it at last. He lifted his head and he could see through all the steel and concrete and humanity above him. He could see the beacon set in space to lure men outwards. He could see it shining down — the naked sun.

Graceful. Lean. Coordinated as she whirls, though how she knows what dancing is, [her grandfather] could never guess. The song plays on. He lets it go too long. The antenna is still up, probably dimly visible against the sky, the whole attic might as well shine like a beacon. But in the candlelight, in the sweet rush of a concerto, Marie-Laure bites her lower lip, and her face gives off a secondary glow, reminding him of the marshes beyond the town walls, in those winter dusks when the sun has set but isn't fully swallowed, and big patches of red pools of light burn - places he used to go with his brother, in what seems like lifetimes ago.

You are a beacon of light, Little Echo. You shine in any room. I would never be able to not notice.

For even in the pit of darkness, the beacon of humanity can always shine through.

Darkness turns us into the stars that we are.

All of these are like sparks in the midnight sky, shedding their light on a world where even a flicker of hope shines like a beacon, illuminating the seas of darkness.

In the war against the shadows, most are taken by darkness, one way or another. Those who shine above it act as beacons to those still fighting, a guide and a source of hope in these chaotic times.

BELIEF - It’s the shining, lighthouse beacon that relentlessly lights the path to your personal utopia, your promised land your infinite wishes and fantasies. It’s your incessant blinding light at the end of the tunnel

In my mind's eye I can still see the first night flight I made in Argentina. It was pitch-dark. Yet in the black void, I could see the lights of man shining down below on the plains, like faintly luminous earthbound stars. Each star was a beacon signaling the presence of a human mind. Here a man was meditating on human happiness, perhaps, or on justice or peace. Lost among this flock of stars was the star of some solitary shepherd. There, perhaps, a man was in communication with the heavens, as he labored over his calculations of the nebula of Andromeda. And there, a pair of lovers. These fires were burning all over the countryside, and each of them, aven the most humble, had to be fed. The fire of the poet, of the teacher, of the carpenter. But among all these living fires, how many closed windows there were, how many dead stars, fires that gave off no light for lack of nourishment.

- Paddle Your Own Canoe Voyager upon life's sea, To yourself be true, And whatever your lot may be, Paddle your own canoe. Never, though the winds may rave, Falter or look back; But upon the darkest wave Leave a shining track. Paddle your own canoe. Nobly dare the wildest storm, Stem the hardest gale, Brave of heart and strong of arm You will never fail. When the world is cold and dark, Keep your aim in view; And toward the beacon work, Paddle your own canoe. ... ..Would you crush the giant wrong, In the world's free fight? With a spirit brave and strong, Battle for the right. And to break the chains that bind The many to the few To enfranchise slavish mind,- Paddle your own canoe. Nothing great is lightly won, Nothing won is lost, Every good deed, nobly done, Will repay the cost. Leave to Heaven, in humble trust, All you will to do: But if succeed, you must Paddle your own canoe.

Sometimes the only way to the light is through the darkness. But there will be little beacons of light along the way that will help see you through. There is a duality of dark and light. Remember, we can’t shine without the dark.

My father and I live under different suns. In reality, it is the same: red and hungry, an intense crimson eye that sends the sweat fleeing from my skin. It’s as beautiful as it is harsh, but my father sees none of the beauty. The past has dulled his wonder, and so the light of this planet shines differently on each of us. For me, it is part of home. For him, it is a beacon over a prison. Like others in N’Terra, he had his heart set on another sun. This one is a poor replacement.

There is a glimmer of metal that wavers between his thighs. He turns to face me. The balls of his large gauge nipple rings catch my eye as they glint in the light of the room. But, it is the tintinabular rings below that cause my eyes to descend to his shining metallic beacon of love. I feel my jaw slightly drop open and a small puff of air escapes over my lips. I am wildly transfixed. What is that? What will he do with it? I nervously wonder without a solution. He moves toward me with the sound of pockets full of change, and I know my life will never be the same.

You were blasted out of the sanctuary. The force of the explosion caused the first avalanche that buried the Qayom Malak, but the fig and olive trees remained exposed, a beacon for the other sanctuaries that were built in the coming years. The Christians were here, the Greeks, the Jews, the Moors. Their sanctuaries fell, too, to avalanche, fire, to scandal or fear, creating a nearly impenetrable wall around the Qayom Malak. You needed me to help you find it again. And you couldn’t find me until you really needed me.” “What happens now?” Cam asked. “Don’t tell me we have to pray.” Dee’s eyes never left the Qayom Malak, even as she tossed cam the towel draped over her shoulder. “Oh, it’s far worse, Cam. Now you’ve got to clean. Polish the angels, especially their wings. Polish them until they shine. We are going to need the moonlight to shine on them in precisely the right way.

before he went back to helping the boy. Missing from the Warrior tent were Kalona and Aurox. For obvious reasons, Thanatos had decided the Tulsa community wasn’t ready to meet either of them. I agreed with her. I wasn’t ready for … I mentally shook myself. No, I wasn’t going to think about the Aurox/Heath situation now. Instead I turned my attention to the second of the big tents. Lenobia was there, keeping a sharp eye on the people who clustered like buzzing bees around Mujaji and the big Percheron mare, Bonnie. Travis was with her. Travis was always with her, which made my heart feel good. It was awesome to see Lenobia in love. The Horse Mistress was like a bright, shining beacon of joy, and with all the Darkness I’d seen lately, that was rain in my desert. “Oh, for shit’s sake, where did I put my wine? Has anyone seen my Queenies cup? As the bumpkin reminded me, my parents are here somewhere, and I’m going to need fortification by the time they circle around and find me.” Aphrodite was muttering and pawing through the boxes of unsold cookies, searching for the big purple plastic cup I’d seen her drinking from earlier. “You have wine in that Queenies to go cup?” Stevie Rae was shaking her head at Aphrodite. “And you’ve been drinkin’ it through a straw?” Shaunee joined Stevie Rae in a head shake. “Isn’t that nasty?” “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Aphrodite quipped. “There are too many nuns lurking around to drink openly without hearing a boring lecture.” Aphrodite cut her eyes to the right of us where Street Cats had set up a half-moon display of cages filled with adoptable cats and bins of catnip-filled toys for sale. The Street Cats had their own miniature version of the silver and white tents, and I could see Damien sitting inside busily handling the cash register, but except for him, running every aspect of the feline area were the habit-wearing Benedictine nuns who had made Street Cats their own. One of the nuns looked my way and I waved and grinned at the Abbess. Sister Mary Angela waved back before returning to the conversation she was having with a family who were obviously falling in love with a cute white cat that looked like a giant cottonball. “Aphrodite, the nuns are cool,” I reminded her. “And they look too busy to pay any attention to you,” Stevie Rae said. “Imagine that—you may not be the center of everyone’s attention,” Shaylin said with mock surprise. Stevie Rae covered her giggle with a cough. Before Aphrodite could say something hateful, Grandma limped up to us. Other than the limp and being pale, Grandma looked healthy and happy. It had only been a little over a week since Neferet had kidnapped and tried to kill her, but she’d recovered with amazing quickness. Thanatos had told us that was because she was in unusually good shape for a woman of her age. I knew it was because of something else—something we both shared—a special bond with a goddess who believed in giving her children free choice, along with gifting them with special abilities. Grandma was beloved of the Great Mother,

What does it mean to be a Canadian? Not only is it a wildly pretentious way to start a book, it is also a question that has beguiled us since day one. Canada has been called a lot of things. We have been called one of the world's greatest democracies. We have been called a shining beacon of hope for those fleeing tyranny. Readers of the Toronto Star will know us as an evil construct built on the shame that is colonialism. And, of course, we have been called stunningly beautiful and a terrible place to winter. We are nothing if not self-deprecating. We pride ourselves on not taking ourselves too seriously.

The Congregating of Stars They often meet in mountain lakes, No matter how remote, no matter how deep Down and far they must stream to arrive, Navigating between the steep, vertical piles Of broken limestone and chert, through shattered Trees and dry bushes bent low by winter, Across ravines cut by roaring avalanches Of boulders and ripping ice. Silently, the stars have assembled On the surface of this lost lake tonight, Arranged themselves to match the patterns They maintain in the highest spheres Of the surrounding sky. And they continue on, passing through The smooth, black countenance of the lake, Through that mirror of themselves, down through The icy waters to touch the perfect bottom Stillness of the invisible life and death existing In the nether of those depths. Sky-bound- yet touching every needle In the torn and sturdy forest, every stone, Sharp, cracked along the ragged shore- the stars Appear the same as in ancient human ages On the currents of the old seas and the darkened Trails of desert dunes, Orion’s belt the same As it shone in Galileo’s eyes, Polaris certain above The sails of every mariner’s voyage. An echoing Light from the Magi’s star, that beacon, might even Be shining on this lake tonight, unrecognized. The stars are congregating, perhaps in celebration, passing through their own names and legends, through fogs, airs, and thunders, the vapors of winter frost and summer pollens. They are ancestors of transfiguration, intimate with all the eyes of the night. What can they know?

Moon, O Moon, how wondrous are you among God’s many works! You shine with majesty and brilliance, a thousand times more brightly than the brightest star! You were created on the same day as the sun. You give light just as the sun gives light. But your light, O Moon, is even more important than the light of the sun. The sun is nearly superfluous, for it lights the daytime when we hardly need it. By day, the world is bright and we can already see clearly all that surrounds us. The wonder of your light, O Moon, comes by night when it is dark so that you are a lamp for our feet and a beacon for our eyes. Moon, O Moon, how wondrous you are!

The moment I said Broken Harbor to O’Kelly, every faded scar in my mind had lit up like a beacon. I had walked the glittering lines of those scars, obedient as a farm animal, from that moment straight to this one. I had moved through this case shining like Conor Brennan had shone on that dark road, a blazing signal for predators and scavengers far and wide.

More than fifteen years later, Uganda's Self-Reliance Strategy has endured as a relatively unique experiment. It was further formalized within Uganda's 2006 Refugee Act, now regarded as one of the most progressive pieces of refugee legislation in Africa. At times, self-reliance has been criticized for legitimizing the premature withdrawal of food rations. The quality of plots of land distributed to refugees has also become uneven as numbers have increased. And refugees still clearly face challenges, including discrimination and informal barriers to market participation. But compared to the alternatives in neighbouring countries, the model is both a shining beacon of policy innovation and a rare opportunity to understand what happens when refugees are given autonomy.

I belong to myself. Always. Eternally. Without question. My own safe house. My own sheltered harbor. I am my own solid ground. I am the lighthouse beacon. I call the ships safely home from sea. I am the North Star and the compass. I am my own port in the wildest storm. I am the spell caster and the spell breaker. I am a witch of alchemy and transformation. I am the pages in the grimoire of knowledge, I am the source of all the magic ever known. I am the kiss that wakes us all from slumber. I am the white horse knight in shining armor. I am my own happily ever after fairytale godmother. I am my own rest stop on the longest journey of living. The final destination on every treasure map I will ever need. I am my own primary relationship, my own till death do us part. I am my own center and saving grace, my own best-kept secret. I am the lineage of wisdom itself, the home of my own belonging. I am my own. And my own. And always my own.

We take so much of the universe on trust. You tell me: “In 1950 I lived on the north side of Beacon Street in Somerville.” You tell me: “She and I were lovers, but for months now we have only been good friends.” You tell me: “It is seventy degrees outside and the sun is shining.” Because I love you, because there is not even a question of lying between us, I take these accounts of the universe on trust: your address twenty-five years ago, your relationship with someone I know only by sight, this morning’s weather. I fling unconscious tendrils of belief, like slender green threads, across statements such as these, statements made so unequivocally, which have no tone or shadow of tentativeness. I build them into the mosaic of my world. I allow my universe to change in minute, significant ways, on the basis of things you have said to me, of my trust in you. I also have faith that you are telling me things it is important I should know; that you do not conceal facts from me in an effort to spare me, or yourself, pain. Or, at the very least, that you will say, “There are things I am not telling you.” When we discover that someone we trusted can be trusted no longer, it forces us to reexamine the universe, to question the whole instinct and concept of trust. For a while, we are thrust back onto some bleak, jutting ledge, in a dark pierced by sheets of fire, swept by sheets of rain, in a world before kinship, or naming, or tenderness exist; we are brought close to formlessness.

Not many people know this desperate need to be put back together again. I have been split like the atom, and the effect on my psyche was just as powerful. Part of me is missing, even if it can’t be seen with the naked eye. A coin is not complete without both heads and tails. All of the negativity and unsavory characters in this environment only serve to make the exceptions shine all the more brightly. It causes you to appreciate kindness and consideration even more. When those with an inner beauty make their way into this hellish reality it shines forth like a beacon, and we denizens swarm to it like bugs to a zapper. In a very real way we’re starving to death, and these bright spots in the darkness are the only thing that can fill the hole. On an average day there is nothing kind, generous, caring, or sensitive within these walls. The energy directed at you is hatred, rage, disgust, stupidity, ignorance, and brutality. It affects you in mind, body, and soul, much like a physical beating. The pressure is relentless and unending. Soon you walk with your shoulders slumped and your

The truest form of beauty lies within us, emanating from the depths of our souls and shining through our eyes. It is not something that can be purchased or attained through physical means, but rather it is a reflection of how we feel on the inside. When we are happy, content, and at peace with ourselves, that inner beauty radiates outwards, illuminating our entire being. It is a beacon of light, drawing others in and making them feel the same sense of warmth and joy. It is in these moments that we truly radiate beauty, and we become a shining example for others to follow.

This quest is common to many people who have such experiences; something is awakened, a distant memory of their true nature. It kick-starts an enquiry into the nature of their identity by raising the questions: ‘Who am I?’ and ‘Am I just the product of the family and society I was born into and their beliefs systems, or am I something more, something which existed before all of that was downloaded into me?’ When this quest is activated, rather than being pushed down into the subconscious, the experience of an Opening is actively held onto as a beacon to shine light on the way back to who we really are. That’s

This isn't your time to die, son. It's not. You have a work to do. you have to prove to them that my baby is no killer. You have to show them. You are a beacon. You are the light. Don't you listen to that fool devil telling you to give up. I didn't raise no child of mine to give up when things get tough. Your life isn't your life to take. It belongs to God. You have a work to do. Hard work. I'm going to talk at you all night long if I have to and all day and all night again, and I will never stop until you know who you are. You were not born to die in this cell. God has a purpose for you. He has a purpose for all of us. I've served my purpose.

Invoking John Winthrop, Reagan said, “I’ve spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don’t know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it.” It was a free, proud city, built on a strong foundation, full of commerce and creativity, he said, adding, “If there had to be city walls, the walls had doors, and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here.” Whatever his faults, Ronald Reagan believed in the possibilities of a country that was forever reinventing itself. “And how stands the city on this winter night?” Reagan asked. “More prosperous, more secure, and happier than it was eight years ago…. And she’s still a beacon, still a magnet for all who must have freedom, for all the pilgrims from all the lost places who are hurtling through the darkness, toward home.

Torin, I didn’t know it was possible to find someone like you. You love me for who I am, not what I am. You’ve taught me that it’s okay to walk on my own, yet you’re always there to carry me when I can’t. You’ve taught me it’s okay to run, stumble, and fall, and pick myself up because a fall is nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve taught me it’s okay to fly because the sky is the limit and you’ll catch me if I fall. You inspire me, challenge me, and celebrate me. You are the first man I’ve ever loved and you will be the last man I’ll ever love. You are my one and only true love, and I promise I will love you for eternity.” Hawk draped the silk rope around our wrists and picked up the second one. Torin looked into my eyes as he started to speak, his voice sure, his words sincere. “Raine Cooper, from the moment you opened your door and our eyes met for the first time, I knew I had reached the end of my quest, yet I didn’t even know what I was searching for. I just knew you were the one, my omega. Where there was cold, you’ve brought warmth. Where there was sadness, you’ve brought happiness. Where there was pain, you’ve brought relief. Where there was darkness, you’ve brought light. You know me better than anyone, my fears, my shortcomings, my habits, yet you still love me. My vows to you are a privilege because I get to laugh with you, cry with you, walk with you, run with you, and fight with you for the rest of our lives. I promise to be patient. Most of the time,” he added, smiling. “I promise to be faithful, respectful, attentive, and to become even a better man for you. I promise to celebrate your triumphs and step back so you can shine like the star you are, but I’ll always be there when you need me. My shoulders are yours to cry on and to carry your burdens. My body is the shield that blocks the blows that might harm you and yours to do with as you wish. My hopes and dreams will always start and end with you. Yours will be the name I cry when I’m in need. Your eyes are the balm I seek when I’m in pain. And your soul is the beacon that my soul searches for when I’m lost. I will love you fiercely, tenderly, and passionately. And when we have children, I promise to be the best father a child could ever want. For you, Raine Cooper, deserve the best and I plan to give it you. You are my one and only true love, and I promise I will love you for eternity.

And when the day closes, I shall know I have done my part. To every soul, who feels that there's a bunch of dreams left unrealised, remember that as long as the Life remains, the possibility to dream remains. Remember that sometimes some dreams that we paint in our hearts are not meant to grow us in our journey of Life and then while we walk along the path, even the detours and broken dreams pave way to a whole lot of waking dreams that only the heart of gratitude can see and feel. I have seen and felt, that sometimes some souls have to go through a lot of trials and tribulations, lessons and sufferings, and even then they never fail to wear kindness and grace simply because they know that what happens around them should not intrude upon what is inside their heart. To know that we are here for a purpose and to not live idly, to know that the purpose is as simple as to stay kind and open to every possibility is as beautiful as the sky who knows no matter how dark the night is the stars would always lit her face. In a world where everything comes at a price, if you're choosing to stay kind, if you're choosing to value your dignity and your integrity, if your choosing to understand and embrace the smile of Solitude, if you're choosing to employ your faculties to understand the real questions of Life, then you're alive, much more alive than your human dreams could have made you feel. Because no matter what, when sunset hits the night, and the day comes to a close you know you've done your part, you know you have embraced one more day with gratitude and grace, with a formidable zeal for Life and an invincible spirit of human understanding that stands firm pillared with Hope and Faith. And then no matter how many voices shrill your mind, the echo of your soul would pierce through your heart and enlighten every inch of your mind, body and soul, and you would know how proud the Universe must be to see the faithfulness, the strength and resilience in your soul, the very mould that was shaped in the fire of the Stardust that shines upon the sky, sometimes becoming a beacon to others while sometimes lying beautifully hidden but always there, always alive. And so each time, I look at the sky with a bunch of stars, I know I am alive, burning with all that Life is made up of. And someday when the day closes for another dawn altogether, I shall know that I have done my part, pretty well.

A SOLAR OASIS Like everywhere else in Puerto Rico, the small mountain city of Adjuntas was plunged into total darkness by Hurricane Maria. When residents left their homes to take stock of the damage, they found themselves not only without power and water, but also totally cut off from the rest of the island. Every single road was blocked, either by mounds of mud washed down from the surrounding peaks, or by fallen trees and branches. Yet amid this devastation, there was one bright spot. Just off the main square, a large, pink colonial-style house had light shining through every window. It glowed like a beacon in the terrifying darkness. The pink house was Casa Pueblo, a community and ecology center with deep roots in this part of the island. Twenty years ago, its founders, a family of scientists and engineers, installed solar panels on the center’s roof, a move that seemed rather hippy-dippy at the time. Somehow, those panels (upgraded over the years) managed to survive Maria’s hurricane-force winds and falling debris. Which meant that in a sea of post-storm darkness, Casa Pueblo had the only sustained power for miles around. And like moths to a flame, people from all over the hills of Adjuntas made their way to the warm and welcoming light.

The past few days when I've been at that window upstairs, I've thought a bit of the ``shining city upon a hill.'' The phrase comes from John Winthrop, who wrote it to describe the America he imagined. What he imagined was important because he was an early Pilgrim, an early freedom man. He journeyed here on what today we'd call a little wooden boat; and like the other Pilgrims, he was looking for a home that would be free. I've spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don't know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, wind-swept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That's how I saw it, and see it still. And how stands the city on this winter night? More prosperous, more secure, and happier than it was 8 years ago. But more than that: After 200 years, two centuries, she still stands strong and true on the granite ridge, and her glow has held steady no matter what storm. And she's still a beacon, still a magnet for all who must have freedom, for all the pilgrims from all the lost places who are hurtling through the darkness, toward home.

In a matter of sixty short minutes, that thing could whisk Neil away to civilization, I thought. Hmm. My goodness, that was a beautiful prospect. Somehow I had to get on that chopper with him. I packed in thirty seconds flat, everything from the past three months. I taped a white cross onto my sleeve, and raced out to where Neil was sat waiting. One chance. What the heck. Neil shook his head at me, smiling. “God, you push it, Bear, don’t you?” he shouted over the noise of the rotors. “You’re going to need a decent medic on the flight,” I replied, with a smile. “And I’m your man.” (There was at least some element of truth in this: I was a medic and I was his buddy--and yes, he did need help. But essentially I was trying to pull a bit of a fast one.) The pilot shouted that two people would be too heavy. “I have to accompany him at all times,” I shouted back over the engine noise. “His feet might fall off at any moment,” I added quietly. The pilot looked back at me, then at the white cross on my sleeve. He agreed to drop Neil somewhere down at a lower altitude, and then come back for me. “Perfect. Go. I’ll be here.” I shook his hand firmly. Let’s just get this done before anyone thinks too much about it, I mumbled to myself. And with that the pilot took off and disappeared from view. Mick and Henry were laughing. “If you pull this one off, Bear, I will eat my socks. You just love to push it, don’t you?” Mick said, smiling. “Yep, good try, but you aren’t going to see him again, I guarantee you,” Henry added. Thanks to the pilot’s big balls, he was wrong. The heli returned empty, I leapt aboard, and with the rotors whirring at full power to get some grip in the thin air, the bird slowly lifted into the air. The stall warning light kept buzzing away as we fought against gravity, but then the nose dipped and soon we were skimming over the rocks, away from base camp and down the glacier. I was out of there--and Mick was busy taking his socks off. As we descended, I spotted, far beneath us, this lone figure sat on a rock in the middle of a giant boulder field. Neil’s two white “beacons” shining bright. I love it. I smiled. We picked Neil up, and in an instant we were flying together through the huge Himalayan valleys like an eagle freed. Neil and I sat back in the helicopter, faces pressed against the glass, and watched our life for the past three months become a shimmer in the distance. The great mountain faded into a haze, hidden from sight. I leaned against Neil’s shoulder and closed my eyes. Everest was gone.

He'd found a sweet-water stream that I drank from, and for dinner we found winkles that we ate baked on stones. We watched the sun set like a peach on the sea, making plans on how we might live till a ship called by. Next we made a better camp beside a river and had ourselves a pretty bathing pool all bordered with ferns; lovely it was, with marvelous red parrots chasing through the trees. Our home was a hut made of branches thatched with flat leaves, a right cozy place to sleep in. We had fat birds that Jack snared for our dinner, and made fire using a shard of looking glass I found in my pocket. We had lost the compass in the water, but didn't lament it. I roasted fish and winkles in the embers. For entertainment we even had Jack's penny whistle. It was a paradise, it was." "You loved him," her mistress said softly, as her pencil resumed its hissing across the paper. Peg fought a choking feeling in her chest. Aye, she had loved him- a damned sight more than this woman could ever know. "He loved me like his own breath," she said, in a voice that was dangerously plaintive. "He said he thanked God for the day he met me." Peg's eyes brimmed full; she was as weak as water. The rest of her tale stuck in her throat like a fishbone. Mrs. Croxon murmured that Peg might be released from her pose. Peg stared into space, again seeing Jack's face, so fierce and true. He had looked down so gently on her pitiful self; on her bruises and her bony body dressed in salt-hard rags. His blue eyes had met hers like a beacon shining on her naked soul. "I see past your always acting the tough girl," he insisted with boyish stubbornness. "I'll be taking care of you now. So that's settled." And she'd thought to herself, so this is it, girl. All them love stories, all them ballads that you always thought were a load of old tripe- love has found you out, and here you are. Mrs. Croxon returned with a glass of water, and Peg drank greedily. She forced herself to continue with self-mocking gusto. "When we lay down together in our grass house we whispered vows to stay true for ever and a day. We took pleasure from each other's bodies, and I can tell you, mistress, he were no green youth, but all grown man. So we were man and wife before God- and that's the truth." She faced out Mrs. Croxon with a bold stare. "You probably think such as me don't love so strong and tender, but I loved Jack Pierce like we was both put on earth just to find each other. And that night I made a wish," Peg said, raising herself as if from a trance, "a foolish wish it were- that me and Jack might never be rescued. That the rotten world would just leave us be.

Here is something good to remember. You were formed by God to become a beacon of light that shines brightly within the darkness of this world. You have a purpose!

Gulping, he lifted it until the box was fully open. The room became as bright as a sunlit day. The Grail was shining like a beacon. It had changed color from jet black to snow white. He felt Claire beside him and heard her say, “My God.” He was scared to touch it out of fear it was hot but when he realized that there was no intense heat he put his hand closer until his finger made contact. It was the same temperature as before. Behind him he heard Neti say, “It’s happening,” and he assumed she was talking to them, but he was mistaken.

The truth can be a shining beacon in your life, if you let that light in.

Is it the stars, the many shining beacons guiding your way? Reaching out to you in your darkest time, showing you no matter how dim the light glows it still remains, it's many sources calling you, helping you through the harrowing lonely night... Or maybe it is the immense void of darkness itself, that pours freely from your mind that you see first. Overwhelming, maybe. Or rather, does it bring comfort, condolence, soothing you from within. Giving you somewhere to escape from it all. Is it the cold light of day whose ability to reveal all blemishes of a past you wish to forget the real demon you seek to avoid? The glaring truths you wish to avert your minds gaze from. Is it the darkness then that gives you solace and a safe resting place to prepare you once more before you step forth into that cruel light. The light which blinds and burns, That from which you cannot escape forever. What soothes you core, the dappling effect, protecting against the light allowing you dark comfort, or the light shining through the veil, igniting your warmth within. There is no shame in the darkness. Life is balance. The light from the sun is not a constant in our world any more than the shadows are. Shadows and light. One cannot exist without the other, and only with both can we live. We aren't all dwellers of complete darkness nor can those who thrive in the spot light exist in it's relentless fire without needing some time to abscond. None then are solely darkness, nor solely light, only shades on a scale, upon which we must find our own unique place and be accepting of others as they find theirs.

THE "SON" ALWAYS SHINES We speak of the weather everyday. Is it going to be cloudy and overcast, or will the sunshine provide us warmth on this new day? We all love the days when the "sun" shines brightly. Not only does the sun brighten our day, it serves as a beacon of fulfillment and lasting optimism in this constantly changing world. The "SUN" which, by the way is 93 million miles away from earth, is all well and good for our positive outlooks, but it cannot bring us as much joy and contentment as we seriously lack in our lives. The "sun" does invigorate our bodies, but does nothing to stimulate our souls. There is only one "SON" that can revitalize our souls and make us truly contented. That's God's "Son", Jesus Christ. With the "Son" of God in our lives, nothing is impossible. With Jesus in our hearts, His powerful loves radiates through our souls and is magnified through our thoughts, words and deeds. His brightness is shone through in every aspect of our lives. With Jesus, we sense a new beginning each and every day. He can fill all voids we allow Him to fill. Christ is eager and willing to enter our hearts. He will begin to shine his everlasting light of love, hope and grace throughout our future discipleship in His word. Jesus can turn any sadness into gladness, turn doom and despair into hope and reassurance, and more importantly; hate into love. His abundant gifts of mercy and love can transform any lonely den of darkness into a palace of brightly lit possibilities. Ask Jesus to enter your life and transform it into a splendid garden where hope and love spring eternal. The next time we gaze out the window and see clouds forming, let us not forget that the "Son" always shines. As long as we believe and carry Him in our hearts and minds, no day will be gloomy and downcast. God's "Son" shines in our lives everyday! __In Christian Praise, Much

A beacon of light shining in a dark tunnel leads even the blind to safety

Despite the empire’s problems, however, its former emperor had succeeded in making Byzantium a shining beacon of civilization. The architectural triumph of the Hagia Sophia had only been possible by sophisticated advances in mathematics, and it soon spawned a flourishing school dedicated to improving the field. In Byzantium, primary education was available for both genders, and thanks to the stability of Justinian’s rule, virtually every level of society was literate. Universities throughout the empire continued the Aristotelian and Platonic traditions that were by now over a millennium old, and the works of the great scientists of antiquity were compiled in both public and private libraries. The old western provinces under barbarian rule, by contrast, were quickly sinking into the brutish chaos of the Dark Ages, with recollections of advanced urban life a fading memory. Literacy declined precipitously as the struggle to scratch out an existence made education an unaffordable luxury, and it would have disappeared completely without the church. There, writing was still valued, and remote monasteries managed to keep learning dimly alive. But throughout the West, trade slowed to a crawl, cities shrank, and the grand public buildings fell into disrepair.

Books are beacons that shine light into our thoughts. -Redmond Herring 2015

Through the window the sun was shining like a beacon, nearly blinding her just as her parents lies had.

Confessions (Sonnet 1034) Naskar is invincible, Got no a fear in the world. Abi is often crippled by fear, Pushing through with a panicky heart. Naskar is a pillar of strength, Beyond all dilemmas and insecurity. Abi is just an ordinary creature, Often trapped in bottomless ominosity. Every time that Abi hits a new low, Naskar ends up flying to new heights. Naskar is such a shining beacon, Because of Abi who burns all night. Behind every extraordinary Naskar, there is a clumsy, ordinary Abi. You only see the light of the sun, not its combustion agony.

Your radiance shines like a beacon, illuminating the vast expanse of the universe. Your energy vibrates with a melody so sublime, it plays a symphony of beauty for all to hear

In my head, you’re like sunshine. Just this beacon of light that no one can help being drawn to. You’re warmth and kindness and laughter. It’s intoxicating. For someone like me who always feels dull, you’re like a miracle—the way you’ve always made me feel so much when nothing else does. Nothing or no one even stands a chance in comparison. You shine too bright.

After all, what is the use of wealth? Do you wish to wrap yourself in fine apparel? Surely two lengths of cloth are sufficient for a coat, while the covering of a single garment fulfills every need with regard to clothing. Or would you spend your wealth on food? A loaf of bread is enough to fill your stomach. Why then do you grieve? Of what have you been deprived? Of the glory that derives from wealth? Had you not sought glory from the dirt, you would have discovered the true glory like a shining beacon leading you to the Kingdom of Heaven. Nonetheless, having wealth is dear to you, though you gain from it no advantage whatsoever. And the futility of chasing after what is worthless is obvious to everyone.

Flow is more than an optimal state of consciousness — one where we feel our best and perform our best — it also appears to be the only practical answer to the question: What is the meaning of life? Flow is what makes life worth living. “There are moments that stand out from the chaos of the everyday as shining beacons,” wrote Csikszentmihalyi, alongside psychologist Susan Jackson, in Flow in Sports. “In many ways, one might say that the whole effort of humankind through millennia of history has been to capture these fleeting moments of fulfillment and make them part of everyday existence.

Dawn finally wins over the last of the night. It shines like a beacon, lighting the way for the storm raging. I look behind us, eyeing the clouds that seem to be

Thank you for being the most comforting part of my life right now. Thank you for always being the beacon I need every time I feel lost. Whether you mean to shine on me or not. I am grateful for you. I've missed you. I absolutely should have kissed you

Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside, looking into the shining world? Because, properly attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is suggestion. — Mary Oliver, from “What I Have Learned So Far,” New and Selected Poems. (Beacon Press; Reprint, 2001 edition July 1, 1993)

As hard as he tried, he could not erase the memory of the woman with the shining black hair, sparkling eyes, easy laugh, and magic marbles; he could not forget the friend who thrust his finger out and held it in the dark like a beacon, all night till the sun came up. The memory of that finger, that one solitary white finger, reaching out in friendship and solidarity, shone in his memory like a bright, shining star.

Subhas Chandra Bose not died in a plane crash at the front, had Bhagat Singh not been hanged by the British, and had Gandhi not been killed by a Hindu extremist moron, Bharat, Pakistan and Bangladesh together would be shining as the brightest beacon of multiculturalism on the face of earth.

I promise to do my best every day to make the world a better place, to demonstrate kindness, compassion, fairness, and strength, and to shine my light as a beacon of hope. I promise to respect my family, myself, and all living things. Together, we are brighter. Together, we are stronger. Together we can make a difference.

Eyes That Noticed Him” In the quiet corner of a crowded room, With a jukebox playing an old love tune, He was just a shadow, 'til her glance fell, On him like a spell, in that moment, he dwelled. Oh, her eyes lit up the room, like the break of dawn, A love story starting, a new day born, With a smile that shines, bright as the sun, He knew she's the one, his heart she won. They're dancing through life, with joy in their stride, In her eyes, he's found his wild ride, A love so bold, it breaks all the norms, In her gaze, his world transforms. She was the whisper in the summer wind, A gentle touch on his weathered skin, Her smile, a beacon in the night, Guiding him to her, his heart's delight. With just one look, his world stood still, The future bright, theirs to fulfill, Her eyes, a vow of love so true, In that very moment, his life anew. She was the rain to his parched earth, Giving his dreams an endless birth, Hand in hand, they found their way, In her eyes, his forever lay. Now every melody tells their tale, Of a love that's strong, that will not fail, He owes his joy to that twist of life, When her eyes found him, cutting through strife. Those eyes, they spoke without a word, A love story, waiting to be heard, She's the girl who rewrote his every day, Since her eyes found him, in that serendipitous way. In the stillness, their souls did dance, A single look, and they took the chance, He found a haven in her loving gaze, Under the stars, they'll spend their days. And they fell in love, oh so deep, A love to sow, a love to reap, In her eyes, he found his dream, A love so profound, it makes the heart beam. As the night winds down, they hold each other tight, With hearts in tune, under the moonlight, For in her eyes, he found his place, A love story written in time and space. So let the guitars strum, and the fiddles play, For their love's a song that'll never fade away, In a world that spins, sometimes too fast, They found a love in her eyes, that'll always last.

Eyes That Noticed Him” In the quiet corner of a crowded room, With a jukebox playing an old love tune, He was just a shadow, 'til her glance fell, On him like a spell, in that moment, he dwelled. Oh, her eyes lit up the room, like the break of dawn, A love story starting, a new day born, With a smile that shines, bright as the sun, He knew she's the one, his heart she won. They're dancing through life, with joy in their stride, In her eyes, he's found his wild ride, A love so bold, it breaks all the norms, In her gaze, his world transforms. She was the whisper in the summer wind, A gentle touch on his weathered skin, Her smile, a beacon in the night, Guiding him to her, his heart's delight. With just one look, his world stood still, The future bright, theirs to fulfill, Her eyes, a vow of love so true, In that very moment, his life anew. She was the rain to his parched earth, Giving his dreams an endless birth, Hand in hand, they found their way, In her eyes, his forever lay. Now every melody tells their tale, Of a love that's strong, that will not fail, He owes his joy to that twist of life, When her eyes found him, cutting through strife. Those eyes, they spoke without a word, A love story, waiting to be heard, She's the girl who rewrote his every day, Since her eyes found him, in that serendipitous way. In the stillness, their souls did dance, A single look, and they took the chance, He found a haven in her loving gaze, Under the stars, they'll spend their days.

When you shine with authenticity, your reflection becomes a beacon of hope, inspiring others to discover their own light.

True to Me” Out on the edge of the great unknown, Where the wild winds of freedom have blown, There's a voice that whispers deep inside, "Don't be afraid to take that ride." Be yourself, let your heart be your guide, Stand tall, with nothing to hide. You've got to be sure, in your own skin, Don't worry 'bout the outside, it's the inside that wins. In the mirror, see your true reflection, Not just a shadow of others' perceptions. Wear your colors, bold and bright, Be a beacon in the dark of night. 'Cause the world will talk, and the world will spin, But the only voice that matters is the one within. So hold your head high, and let them see, What it means to live, truly free. (Chorus) Be yourself, let your heart be your guide, Stand tall, with nothing to hide. You've got to be sure, in your own skin, Don't worry 'bout the outside, it's the inside that wins. So don't be afraid, to be who you are, Shine like the sun, be your own star. For in the end, when all is done, It's your life to live, you're the only one.

True to Me” Out on the edge of the great unknown, Where the wild winds of freedom have blown, There's a voice that whispers deep inside, "Don't be afraid to take that ride." Be yourself, let your heart be your guide, Stand tall, with nothing to hide. You've got to be sure, in your own skin, Don't worry 'bout the outside, it's the inside that wins. In the mirror, see your true reflection, Not just a shadow of others' perceptions. Wear your colors, bold and bright, Be a beacon in the dark of night. 'Cause the world will talk, and the world will spin, But the only voice that matters is the one within. So hold your head high, and let them see, What it means to live, truly free. Be yourself, let your heart be your guide, Stand tall, with nothing to hide. You've got to be sure, in your own skin, Don't worry 'bout the outside, it's the inside that wins. So don't be afraid, to be who you are, Shine like the sun, be your own star. For in the end, when all is done, It's your life to live, you're the only one.

Being drawn to intelligence is like having a secret crush on the brainiest person in the room. It's like finding the smartest cookie in the jar and wanting to devour every last crumb of their knowledge. When someone's intellect shines bright, it's like a beacon calling you to explore the depths of your mind. So, if you're attracted to intelligence, own it! Dive into stimulating conversations. After all, who needs cupid's arrow when you've got the allure of a brilliant mind?

Being drawn to intelligence is like having a secret crush on the brainiest person in the room. It's like finding the smartest cookie in the jar and wanting to devour every last crumb of their knowledge. When someone's intellect shines bright, it's like a beacon calling you to explore the depths of their mind. So, if you're attracted to intelligence, own it! Dive into stimulating conversations. After all, who needs cupid's arrow when you've got the allure of a brilliant mind?

When the darkness around us refuses to budge, we must shine all the brighter by changing ourselves for the better. For our own souls' sake, we must break free from the toxic grasp of harmful influences and choose the path of righteousness, even if it means leaving others behind. By changing for good, we create a distance between ourselves and the corruption, preserving our moral integrity and ensuring our light continues to shine, a beacon of hope in a world that desperately needs it.

But he’s so damn hopeful. His eyes burn bright and he floods the room with longing. It’s a light shining bright on a stormy night, the beacon calling me home. It’s beyond probability but he’s offering me the possibility of salvation.

Your kind words can be a lifeline for someone about to give up. They can be a beacon of hope in the darkest night. They can heal wounded hearts. They can bring peace of mind and make someone’s day just fine. Spread love and kindness wherever you are, and let your light shine.

Bookshop was a shining beacon of peace and tranquillity lighting up my childhood memories. And now it has gone.

Meadows’ Bookshop was a shining beacon of peace and tranquillity lighting up my childhood memories. And now it has gone.

May the blessing of light be on ye, light outside and light within. May the blessed sunlight shine down on ye like a great fire so strangers and friends alike may come and warm themselves with it. And may ye two be a beacon of light for everyone around ye, like a candle set by the window of a house, bidding the wanderer take shelter from the storm. And may the blessing of the rain be on ye. May it wash yer Spirit fair and clean, leaving a shining pool where the blue of Heaven shines. May the blessing of the Earth be on ye, soft under yer feet as you walk along the roads, soft under ye as you lie on it when ye’re tired at the end of the day.

love stands head and shoulders above all else and it shines like a beacon of light,

Observer: “In our being, where the tangible meets the intangible, there lies a duality as ancient as time itself - the ego and the essence. These twin forces, ever-present and perpetually intertwined, are the sun and moon of our inner universe, each holding sway over the landscape of our spirit in a dance as old as the stars.” Sun: “I am the essence, the unwavering light within. A constant, unfiltered sun, burning at the core of our being. Untouched by the transient world, I am the eternal truth in your heart, the perpetual whisper of your authentic self.” Moon: “And I, the ego, mirror the silver luminescence of experience. Shaped by the ebb and flow of life’s tides, I reflect the lessons, beliefs, and identities formed through your journey. In me, the tales of your identity are woven through societal norms and cultural echoes, ever-evolving and dynamic.” Sun: “Unlike you, who waxes and wanes, I am a perpetual beacon. I am solid, the silent guide amidst the storms of life, illuminating the path to enlightenment. I am the light that shines beyond all darkness, the eternal truth within.” Moon: “True, I may dance in shadows, casting illusions, but through my reflective glow, I bring lessons, growth, and an understanding of our place in the material world. My phases are a reminder of life’s impermanence and the transformative power of introspection and self-inquiry.” Sun: “It is in recognizing our dual nature that the process of transformation begins. From the unexamined to the enlightened existence, I offer wisdom, authenticity, and a connection to the eternal. Understanding the self is the key to liberation.” Moon: “Together, we form the yin and yang of existence. My reflective lessons and your radiant wisdom define the human experience. In understanding our dance, one finds the rhythm of their soul, a balance between action and introspection, between the material world and the spiritual journey.” Sun: “The journey of self is thus a celestial voyage between us. Embracing both my luminescence and your reflection leads to harmony, living attuned to the eternal rhythm of light and shadow.

Patricia Omorogbe, a dynamic healthcare entrepreneur, shines as a beacon of generosity. Founder of Dominion Cila Homes, a non-profit in Illinois, Patricia extends her philanthropy globally.

She pondered their last discussion about the nails and knowing God better. She already had an inclination about the concept, as she had taken to Christianity some time back. Her son, Constantine, had played an instrumental part in her decision to leave behind her false gods and serve the Almighty. His adamant faith had been like a shining beacon of hope for her to see and emulate.

MONITOR AND RETRIEVE LOST CRYPTOCURRENCY WITH_TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY I felt as though the sadness in my intestines had moved in. Trembling, my fingers made their hundredth lap across the bank statement. $14,000. Vanished. vanished from my online investment account, taking with it a crushing sensation of helplessness and a trail of digital dust. Panic gnawed at me. My life savings, my future, seemingly swallowed into the abyss of the internet. Every avenue I explored felt like a dead end. My frantic calls to the platform yielded robotic platitudes and zero action. The police, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cybercrime, offered little solace. I was drowning in a sea of despair, clutching at straws that seemed to melt in my grasp. Then, a flicker of hope. A friend, privy to my digital nightmare, mentioned Technocrate Recovery. Skeptical, yet desperate, I delved into their website,(ww w.technocr aterecovery. site) eyes scanning for a shred of credibility. Testimonials, success stories, a team of experts – it was a beacon in the darkness. I contacted them, my voice choked with a mix of fear and desperation. The first meeting was enlightening. In contrast to the callous disregard I had experienced in other places, Technocrate Recovery responded to me with compassion and comprehension. They outlined a clear course of action, listened intently, and posed thoughtful questions. They offered a lifeline and the opportunity to fight back against the nameless robber who had taken my hard-earned money, but they did not guarantee miracles. The recovery process was an emotional rollercoaster. Days bled into nights as Technocrate Recovery navigated the complex labyrinth of the online financial world. There were setbacks, roadblocks, and moments I doubted the outcome. But through it all, the team remained steadfast, their unwavering dedication a constant source of strength. Finally, the news I'd been waiting for arrived. A breakthrough traces. A lead. The team, fueled by renewed vigor, pursued it relentlessly. And then, the impossible became reality. My stolen funds, clawed back from the clutches of the cybercriminal, returned to my account. The elation was indescribable. Tears of relief streamed down my face as I confirmed the balance. It wasn't just about the money, though that was significant. It was about reclaiming control, about defying the odds, about proving that even in the darkest corners of the internet, good can prevail. Technocrate Recovery wasn't just a service; they were my digital knights in shining armor. They fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself, guiding me through the labyrinth of cybercrime and bringing me back to the shores of financial safety. Never lose up hope if you find yourself in the depths of online loss. In the virtual realm, there exist champions prepared to defend your pilfered hopes. Let them be your light in the dark by reaching out and sharing your experience with them. TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY CONTACT INFORMATION'S..... Email: technocratrecovery@contractor.net   Telegram: @TECHNOCRATE_RECOVERY  

I felt as though the sadness in my intestines had moved in. Trembling, my fingers made their hundredth lap across the bank statement. $14,000. Vanished. vanished from my online investment account, taking with it a crushing sensation of helplessness and a trail of digital dust. Panic gnawed at me. My life savings, my future, seemingly swallowed into the abyss of the internet. Every avenue I explored felt like a dead end. My frantic calls to the platform yielded robotic platitudes and zero action. The police, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of cybercrime, offered little solace. I was drowning in a sea of despair, clutching at straws that seemed to melt in my grasp. Then, a flicker of hope. A friend, privy to my digital nightmare, mentioned Technocrate Recovery. Skeptical, yet desperate, I delved into their website,(ww w.technocr aterecovery. site) eyes scanning for a shred of credibility. Testimonials, success stories, a team of experts – it was a beacon in the darkness. I contacted them, my voice choked with a mix of fear and desperation. The first meeting was enlightening. In contrast to the callous disregard I had experienced in other places, Technocrate Recovery responded to me with compassion and comprehension. They outlined a clear course of action, listened intently, and posed thoughtful questions. They offered a lifeline and the opportunity to fight back against the nameless robber who had taken my hard-earned money, but they did not guarantee miracles. The recovery process was an emotional rollercoaster. Days bled into nights as Technocrate Recovery navigated the complex labyrinth of the online financial world. There were setbacks, roadblocks, and moments I doubted the outcome. But through it all, the team remained steadfast, their unwavering dedication a constant source of strength. Finally, the news I'd been waiting for arrived. A breakthrough traces. A lead. The team, fueled by renewed vigor, pursued it relentlessly. And then, the impossible became reality. My stolen funds, clawed back from the clutches of the cybercriminal, returned to my account. The elation was indescribable. Tears of relief streamed down my face as I confirmed the balance. It wasn't just about the money, though that was significant. It was about reclaiming control, about defying the odds, about proving that even in the darkest corners of the internet, good can prevail. Technocrate Recovery wasn't just a service; they were my digital knights in shining armor. They fought for me when I couldn't fight for myself, guiding me through the labyrinth of cybercrime and bringing me back to the shores of financial safety. Never lose up hope if you find yourself in the depths of online loss. In the virtual realm, there exist champions prepared to defend your pilfered hopes. Let them be your light in the dark by reaching out and sharing your experience with them. TECHNOCRATE RECOVERY CONTACT INFORMATION'S..... Email: technocratrecovery@contractor.net   Telegram: @TECHNOCRATE_RECOVERY