Ship Motivational Quotes

Quand tu veux construire un bateau, ne commence pas par rassembler du bois, couper des planches et distribuer du travail, mais reveille au sein des hommes le desir de la mer grande et large. If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.

If you're offered a seat on a rocket ship, don't ask what seat! Just get on.

Faith keeps our ships moving, while empathy and the memories of our experiences lead to wisdom.

When all seems to be against you, remember, a ship sometimes has to sail against the current, not with it.

It is the storm that propels a ship to its destination.

If a ship is strong, the ocean's tides do not bother it.

The storm only comes to teach you how to skillfully sail your ship.

Something hit me very hard once, thinking about what one little man could do. Think of the Queen Mary — the whole ship goes by and then comes the rudder. And there's a tiny thing at the edge of the rudder called a trimtab. It's a miniature rudder. Just moving the little trim tab builds a low pressure that pulls the rudder around. Takes almost no effort at all. So I said that the little individual can be a trimtab. Society thinks it's going right by you, that it's left you altogether. But if you're doing dynamic things mentally, the fact is that you can just put your foot out like that and the whole big ship of state is going to go. So I said, call me Trimtab.

Your mind is a ship; it can sail across the universe as long as you don't allow negative thoughts to sink it.

Peter Gibbons: The thing is, Bob, it's not that I'm lazy, it's that I just don't care. Bob Porter: Don't... don't care? Peter Gibbons: It's a problem of motivation, all right? Now if I work my ass off and Initech ships a few extra units, I don't see another dime; so where's the motivation? And here's something else, Bob: I have eight different bosses right now. Bob Slydell: I beg your pardon? Peter Gibbons: Eight bosses. Bob Slydell: Eight? Peter Gibbons: Eight, Bob. So that means that when I make a mistake, I have eight different people coming by to tell me about it. That's my only real motivation is not to be hassled; that, and the fear of losing my job. But you know, Bob, that will only make someone work just hard enough not to get fired.

For me, boviscopophobia (=the morbid fear of being seen as bovine) is an even stronger motive than semi-agoraphobia for staying on the ship when we're in port.

If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.

A mighty storm is inconsequential when facing a mighty ship.

...it’s fear and fear alone that binds a man from living.

... One that would have the fruit must climb the tree... Great hopes make great men... Tis skill, not strength, that governs a ship... All things are difficult before they are easy....

I remember clearly the deaths of three men. One was the richest man of the century, who, having clawed his way to wealth through the souls and bodies of men, spent many years trying to buy back the love he had forfeited and by that process performed great service to the world and, perhaps, had much more than balanced the evils of his rise. I was on a ship when he died. The news was posted on the bulletin board, and nearly everyone recieved the news with pleasure. Several said, "Thank God that son of a bitch is dead." Then there was a man, smart as Satan, who, lacking some perception of human dignity and knowing all too well every aspect of human weakness and wickedness, used his special knowledge to warp men, to buy men, to bribe and threaten and seduce until he found himself in a position of great power. He clothed his motives in the names of virtue, and I have wondered whether he ever knew that no gift will ever buy back a man's love when you have removed his self-love. A bribed man can only hate his briber. When this man died the nation rang with praise... There was a third man, who perhaps made many errors in performance but whose effective life was devoted to making men brave and dignified and good in a time when they were poor and frightened and when ugly forces were loose in the world to utilize their fears. This man was hated by few. When he died the people burst into tears in the streets and their minds wailed, "What can we do now?" How can we go on without him?" In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love. When a man comes to die, mo matter what his talents and influence and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror....we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to the world.

Don't simply dream, create. Don't simply create, ship. Don't simply ship, dream.

The ship did not leave without you. It left to make room for your ship soon to arrive....the power of hope and faith.

When the sails are strong a ship has no reason to fear turbulence.

It's called entrepreneurSHIP, not entrepreneurSTAY. Don't wait. Just ship.

Even upon the waters of trial and tribulation, by building the ships of kinship, fellowship, leadership and mentorship, we become unsinkable.

Leaders lead the way and people follow them to achieve the desired goal. If we assume the business a ship, then a leader acts as the captain. Being a prolific leader, Aman Mehndiratta has proved the definition of a true leader. He leads, motivates, commands and sails with the co-workers, apart from throwing orders only.

Years hence it will be possible for nations to fight without armies, ships or guns, by weapons far more terrible, to the destructive action and range of which there is virtually no limit. A city, at any distance whatsoever from the enemy, can be destroyed by him and no power on earth can stop him from doing so.

Fathers of the fatherless sons and daughters, you all need to get on the full-time ship of love, support, and financial help. Your parental alienation is emotional child abuse. As you violate fatherhood, your children build up walls and it is not so easy for them to forgive. If it’s not too late, you need to make it right." - Charlena E. Jackson, Author of Dear Fathers of the Fatherless Children

Why be honest when no one else is?” This seems to be the motto of all sinking ships.

Sink the ship that carries the load of hate .

Fathers of the fatherless son and daughters, your children want to see you, your children want to spend time with you, your children want you to be a part of their lives. You all are too focused on what you “think” you should be doing to benefit the mother. Let it be known, you are not doing the mother of your children any favors. The mother of your children is the one who is pulling the entire ship; it would be nice if you all jump on board to share the load.

A long while ago, a great warrior faced a situation which made it necessary for him to make a decision which insured his success on the battlefield. He was about to send his armies against a powerful foe, whose men outnumbered his own. He loaded his soldiers into boats, sailed to the enemy’s country, unloaded soldiers and equipment, then gave the order to burn the ships that had carried them. Addressing his men before the first battle, he said, “You see the boats going up in smoke. That means that we cannot leave these shores alive unless we win! We now have no choice—we win, or we perish! They won.

There will be a sea of tears, You'll gasp for your breath at times, You'll drag your heavy heart And drown your soul in the sea. But sooner or later, The sea will dry up, There won't be any savior ship But you'll learn to embrace The wet sand revealed.

From the hood of his car, he hefted a large green insulated pack - the kind Fadlan's Falafel used for deliveries. "This is for you, Magnus. I hope you enjoy." The scent of fresh falafel wafted out. True, I'd eaten falafel just a few hours ago, but my stomach growled because ... well, more falafel. "Man, you're the best. I can't believe - Wait. You're in the middle of a fast and you brought me food? That seems wrong." "Just because I'm fasting doesn't mean you can't enjoy." He clapped me on my shoulder. "You'll be in my prayers. All of you." I knew he was sincere. Me, I was an atheist. I only prayed sarcastically to my own father for a better colour of boat. Learning about the existence of Norse deities and the Nine Worlds had just made me more convinced that there was no grand divine plan. What kind of God would allow Zeus and Odin to run around the same cosmos, both claiming to be the king of creation, smiting mortals with lightning bolts and giving motivational seminars? Bur Amir was a man of faith. He and Samirah believed in something bigger, a cosmic force that actually cared about humans. I suppose it was kind of comforting to know Amir had my back in the prayer department, even if I doubted there was anybody at the end of that line. "Thanks, man." I shook his hand one last time.

Fathers of the fatherless sons and daughters, we all make mistakes and we always will. However, not being a part of your children’s lives isn’t a mistake; it’s a choice. When all’s said and done, the ship is always pressing forward. At the beginning and end of the day, you all only have yourselves to blame.

If you build a raft, you can cross a river, but if you build a ship, you can cross an ocean.

Are you a passenger on a ghost ship or are you the pilot?

A ship doesn't sink while on water; it only succumbs when water gets inside. Ignore the insult and focus on the result.

Stories were heirlooms in these parts.

There is a harbour to be reached, after the storm has abated!

If you’re so afraid of rejection that you won’t take risks, you’ll miss out on a lot in life.

Vision sees the stars; mission carves the path to reach them. Vision without a purposeful mission is a ship without a compass, drifting aimlessly in the sea of aspirations.

It is a ship that fights the storm, but its architect who gets all the praise.

A small boat that sails the sea is better than a large ship that fails to cross the ocean.

What kind of God would allow Zeus and Odin to run around in the same cosmos, both claiming to be the king of creation, smiting mortals with lightning bolts and giving motivational seminars?

person who wins in any undertaking must be willing to burn his ships and cut all sources of retreat. Only by so doing can one be sure of maintaining that state of mind known as a burning desire to win, essential to success.

In spite of the circumstance, a person who abides in dignity and grace will use the lessons learned as ballast for their ship as they sail through stormy waters—taking the wisdom gained from life and using it to anchor their confidence.

The larger the corporation, the more distant its motives are apt to be from the original spirit of organic farming—and the farther the products will likely be shipped to buyers who will smile at the happy farm picture on the package, and never be the wiser.

This young woman,” said Diana, “was responsible for the destruction of the Triumvirate’s fleet.” “Well, I had a lot of help,” Lavinia said. “I don’t understand,” I said, turning to Lavinia. “You made all those mortars malfunction?” Lavinia looked offended. “Well, yeah. Somebody had to stop the fleet. I did pay attention during siege-weapon class and ship-boarding class. It wasn’t that hard. All it took was a little fancy footwork.” Hazel finally managed to pick her jaw off the pavement. “Wasn’t that hard?” “We were motivated! The fauns and dryads did great.” She paused, her expression momentarily clouding, as if she remembered something unpleasant. “Um…besides, the Nereids helped a lot. There was only a skeleton crew aboard each yacht. Not, like, actual skeletons, but—you know what I mean. Also, look!” She pointed proudly at her feet, which were now adorned with the shoes of Terpsichore from Caligula’s private collection. “You mounted an amphibious assault on an enemy fleet,” I said, “for a pair of shoes.” Lavinia huffed. “Not just for the shoes, obviously.” She tap-danced a routine that would’ve made Savion Glover proud. “Also to save the camp, and the nature spirits, and Michael Kahale’s commandos.” Hazel held up her hands to stop the overflow of information. “Wait. Not to be a killjoy—I mean, you did an amazing thing!—but you still deserted your post, Lavinia. I certainly didn’t give you permission —” “I was acting on praetor’s orders,” Lavinia said haughtily. “In fact, Reyna helped. She was knocked out for a while, healing, but she woke up in time to instill us with the power of Bellona, right before we boarded those ships. Made us all strong and stealthy and stuff.” Hazel asked, “Is it true about Lavinia acting on your orders?” Reyna glanced at our pink-haired friend. The praetor’s pained expression said something like, I respect you a lot, but I also hate you for being right. “Yes,” Reyna managed to say. “Plan L was my idea. Lavinia and her friends acted on my orders. They performed heroically.” Lavinia beamed. “See? I told you.” The assembled crowd murmured in amazement, as if, after a day full of wonders, they had finally witnessed something that could not be explained.

What did theories matter any more? She wanted to say. The rats have taken over the ship, it's often as simple as that; the rest is narcissistic crap. It must be. (...) For exploitation read property and you have the whole bit. First the exploiter hits the wage-slave over the head with his superior wealth; then he brainwashes him into believing that the pursuit of property is a valid motive for breaking him at the grindstone. That way he has him hooked twice over. (...) "You disappoint me, Charlie. All of a sudden you lack consistency. You've made the perceptions. Why don't you go out and do something about them? Why do you appear here one minute as an intellectual who has the eye and brain to see what is not visible to the deluded masses, the next you have not the courage to go out and perform a small service - like theft - like murder - like blowing something up - say, a police station - for the benefit of those whose hearts and minds are enslaved by the capitalist overlords? Come on, Charlie, where's the action? You're the free soul around here. Don't give us the words, give us the deeds." (...) Anger suspended her bewilderment and dulled the pain of her disgrace (...) She wished terribly that she could go mad so that everyone would be sorry for her; she wished she was just a raving lunatic waiting to be let off, not a stupid little fool of a radical actress (...) (part I, chapter 7)

Lack of trust impacts your employees’ motivation and productivity, the likelihood that they’ll jump ship for a new company, and how much time you (and everyone else) spend frantically putting out fires that could have been avoided had your people felt comfortable discussing sensitive issues with you.

In no particular order, I read what I could, sometimes with Fadiman as my docent, sometimes not: Flaubert, Twain, Kerouac, Brontë, Kafka, Camus, Ibsen, James, Thurber, Shakespeare. But in the course of reading great books, something happened. My reading molded me, the tool hammering its hand into shape. By some miracle—and by miracle, I mean great teachers—I pushed past the shallowness and stupidity of my own motivations. I fell in love with the actual literature and the actual ideas of great literature. As an immigrant, as a Vietnamese kid, as a poor kid, I had collected so many scarlet letters of alienation that I connected profoundly to the great works. As I read, I began to understand that all the great works wrangled with big questions, important questions: our place in the world, the value of our experience, the fairness and meaning of our suffering, our quest for love and belonging. Universal themes bound these great works together, and they bound me to their oaky, yellowed pages like Odysseus lashed to the mast of his ship. I felt a connective and humanizing resonance in books: I wasn’t alone in my aloneness. I wasn’t alone in my longing for love. I wasn’t alone in my fear of being rejected, my fear of never finding my place, my fear of failing. The snarl of my journey was untangled and laid out clearly by books.

Over the years, I’ve realized that in any new situation, whether it involves an elevator or a rocket ship, you will almost certainly be viewed in one of three ways. As a minus one: actively harmful, someone who creates problems. Or as a zero: your impact is neutral and doesn’t tip the balance one way or the other. Or you’ll be seen as a plus one: someone who actively adds value. Everyone wants to be a plus one, of course. But proclaiming your plus-oneness at the outset almost guarantees you’ll be perceived as a minus one, regardless of the skills you bring to the table or how you actually perform. This might seem self-evident, but it can’t be, because so many people do it. During the final selection round for each new class of NASA astronauts, for example, there’s always at least one individual who’s hell-bent on advertising him- or herself as a plus one. In fact, all the applicants who make it to the final 100 and are invited to come to Houston for a week have impressive qualifications and really are plus ones—in their own fields. But invariably, someone decides to take it a little further and behave like An Astronaut, one who already knows just about everything there is to know—the meaning of every acronym, the purpose of every valve on a spacesuit—and who just might be willing, if asked nicely, to go to Mars tomorrow. Sometimes the motivation is over-eagerness rather than arrogance, but the effect is the same.

You'll have to learn to take criticisms. Not everyone will be on the same ship with you...So what? Does that make you less of a person? Some will like you, some won't. Let that be a motivation for you. Show the world who you are. Not necessarily showing the world that you're better than anyone, but show them that, you can become ANYTHING you want to in this life.

WAKE UP OR PERISH The world’s problems are, by and large, human problems—the unavoidable consequence of egoic sleepwalking. If we care to look, all the signs are present to suggest that we are not only sleepwalking, but at times borderline insane as well. In a manner of speaking, we have lost (or at the very least forgotten) our souls, and we try very, very hard not to notice, because we don’t want to see how asleep we are, how desolate our condition really is. So we blindly carry on, driven by forces we do not recognize or understand, or even acknowledge. We are no doubt at a very critical point in time. Our world hangs in the balance, and a precarious balance it is. Awakening to Reality is no longer a possibility; it is an imperative. We have sailed the ship of delusion about as far as she can carry us. We have run her ashore and now find ourselves shipwrecked on an increasingly desolate land. Our options have imploded. “Wake up or perish” is the spiritual call of our times. Did we ever need more motivation than this? And yet all is eternally well, and more well than can be imagined.

Or, suppose you want to motivate your managers to ship products on time, so you conspicuously promote each manager whose product goes out the door on schedule. All goes as planned until the situation arises in which one of your managers has a project where the testers are reporting numerous problems. Because managers who have shipped products on time have been promoted, this manager thinks, I want that promotion so I need to ship this on time, but those bug reports are getting in the way. I know what I'll do! I'll put the testers on another project until the developers have a chance to catch up.

To blow the whistle on secret programs, I’d also have to blow the whistle on the larger system of secrecy, to expose it not as the absolute prerogative of state that the IC claimed it was but rather as an occasional privilege that the IC abused to subvert democratic oversight. Without bringing to light the full scope of this systemic secrecy, there would be no hope of restoring a balance of power between citizens and their governance. This motive of restoration I take to be essential to whistleblowing: it marks the disclosure not as a radical act of dissent or resistance, but a conventional act of return—signaling the ship to return back to port, where it’ll be stripped, refitted, and patched of its leaks before being given the chance to start over.

I remember clearly the deaths of three men. One was the richest man of the century, who, having clawed his way to wealth through the souls and bodies of men, spent many years trying to buy back the love he had forfeited and by that process performed great services to the world and, perhaps, had much more than balanced the evils of his rise. I was on a ship when he died. The news was posted on the bulletin board, and nearly everyone received the news with pleasure. Several said, "Thank God that son of a bitch is dead." Then there was a man, smart as Satan, who, lacking some perception of human dignity and knowing all too well every aspect of human weakness and wickedness, used his special knowledge to warp men, to buy men, to bribe and threaten and seduce until he found himself in a position of great power. He clothed his motives in the names of virtue, and I have wondered whether he ever knew that no gift will ever buy back a man's love when you have removed his self-love. A bribed man can only hate his briber. When this man died the nation rang with praise and, just beneath, with gladness that he was dead. There was a third man, who perhaps made many errors in performance but whose effective life was devoted to making men brave and dignified and good in a time when they were poor and frightened and when ugly forces were loose in the world to utilize their fears. This man was hated by the few. When he died the people burst into tears in the streets and their minds wailed, "What can we do now? How can we go on without him?

(Corinthians:) They pretend that they have hitherto refused to make alliances from a wise moderation, but they really adopted this policy from a mean and not from a high motive. They did not want to have an ally who might go and tell of their crimes, and who would put them to the blush whenever they called him in. Their insular position makes them judges of their own offences against others, and they can therefore afford to dispense with judges appointed under treaties; for they hardly ever visit their neighbours, but foreign ships are constantly driven to their shores by stress of weather. And all the time they screen themselves under the specious name of neutrality, making believe that they are unwilling to be the accomplices of other men's crimes. But the truth is that they wish to keep their own criminal courses to themselves: where they are strong, to oppress; where they cannot be found out, to defraud; and whatever they may contrive to appropriate, never to be ashamed. (Book 1 Chapter 37.2-4)

But whether people cultivate an exterior meant to signal their politics, or they cultivate, instead, a strait-laced appearance that does not signal their politics, their self-presentation is deliberate. It is meant to reinforce who they are (who they consider themselves to be). People tell themselves, strenuously, that they believe in this or that political position, whether it is to do with wealth distribution or climate policy or the rights of animals. They commit to some plan, whether it is to stop old-growth logging, or protest nuclear power, or block a shipping port in order to bring capitalism, or at least logistics, to its knees. But the deeper motivation for their rhetoric—the values they promote, the lifestyle they have chosen, the look they present—is to shore up their own identity. It is natural to attempt to reinforce identity, given how fragile people are underneath these identities they present to the world as “themselves.” Their stridencies are fragile, while their need to protect their ego, and what forms that ego, is strong.

If we were still eighteen I should say “What’s wrong with Jack Aubrey?” ’ ‘And perhaps I should reply “Everything, since he has a command and I have not,” ’ said James, smiling. ‘But come, now, I can hardly criticize your friend to your face.’ ‘Oh, he has faults, sure. I know he is intensely ambitious where his profession is at issue and impatient of any restraint. My concern was to know just what it was that offended you in him. Or is it merely non amo te, Sabidi?’ ‘Perhaps so: it is hard to say. He can be a very agreeable companion, of course, but there are times when he shows that particular beefy arrogant English insensibility … and there is certainly one thing that jars on me – his great eagerness for prizes. The sloop’s discipline and training is more like that of a starving privateer than a King’s ship. When we were chasing that miserable polacre he could not bring himself to leave the deck all night long – anyone would have thought we were after a man-of-war, with some honour at the end of the chase. And this prize here was scarcely clear of the Sophie before he was exercising the great guns again, roaring away with both broadsides.’ ‘Is a privateer a discreditable thing? I ask in pure ignorance.’ ‘Well, a privateer is there for a different motive altogether. A privateer does not fight for honour, but for gain. It is a mercenary. Profit is its raison d’être.’ ‘May not the exercising of the great guns have a more honourable end in view?’ ‘Oh, certainly. I may very well be unjust – jealous – wanting in generosity. I beg your pardon if I have offended you. And I willingly confess he is an excellent seaman.’ ‘Lord, James, we have known one another

The waltz was dwindling away, and with a supreme effort he let her go. They talked through the crowd together, smiling politely at people who intercepted them without the slightest idea of anything that was said. When they neared the Townsendes’ group Ian delayed her with a touch of his hand. “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you,” he said. Scrupulously keeping up appearances, he reached out to take a drink from a tray being passed by a servant, using that to cover their having stopped. “I would have told you before, but until now you would have questioned my motives and not believed me.” Elizabeth nodded graciously to a woman who greeted her, then she slowly reached for the glass, listening to him as he quietly said, “I never told your brother I didn’t want to wed you.” Her hand stayed, then she took the glass from him and walked beside him as they made their slowest possible way back to their friends. “Thank you,” she said softly, pausing to sip from her glass in another delaying tactic. “There’s one more thing,” he added irritably. “What’s that?” she asked. “I hate this damn ball. I’d give half what I own to be anywhere else with you.” To his surprise, his thrifty fiancé nodded complete agreement. “So would I.” “Half?” he chided, grinning at her in complete defiance of the rules of propriety. “Really?” “Well-at least a forth,” she amended helplessly, giving him her hand for the obligatory kiss as she reached for her skirts, preparing to curtsy. “Don’t you dare curtsy to me,” he warned in a laughing underbreath, kissing her gloved fingers. “Everywhere I go women are falling to the floor like collapsing rigging on a ship.” Elizabeth’s shoulders shook with mirth as she disobediently sank into a deep throne-room curtsy that was a miracle of grace and exaggeration. Above her she heard his throaty chuckle. In an utter turnabout of his earlier feelings, Ian suddenly decided this ball was immensely enjoyable.

Marita Lorenz, born on August 18, 1939, in Bremen, Germany, was best known for her undercover work with the CIA. She was the daughter of Captain Heinrich Lorenz, master of the S/S Bremen IV, a German passenger ship, and her mother, an American actress, was related to Ambassador Henry Cabot Lodge, Jr. Arriving in Havana on her father’s ship in 1959, she met Fidel who talked about improving the Cuban tourist business. It was obvious that he was taken by the beautiful 19-year-old brunette, and upon hearing that she was fluent in multiple languages, asked if she would translate some letters for him. She happily agreed and although continuing on to New York, she was persuaded to return to Havana to do the translations. When Castro arrived in her room, he revealed his true motives, which at the time repelled her. The next day when Castro reappeared things were vastly different.

Some talk about how to uplift the poor; others walk about lifting up the poor. Some talk about how to fight corruption; others walk about fighting corruption. Some just see mess as part of existence: "Rushing or dragging makes no difference." Others see mess like that of ship sinking: "Acting fast can save many from drowning.

You must be like a battleship, an underwater river, that even when trapped never ceases to escape to the ocean

Though crime rate down, economy growing, till millions are found deprived and starving, the nation’s leaders are but misaligned— no ifs and buts, but they all must resign! How much more if there is no improvement, the poor pushed to even greater torment. Time to change how leaders are measured out— “Either they free all, or they all ship out!

Finally, it seemed clear that the crew was in a self-reinforcing downward spiral where poor practices resulted in mistakes, mistakes resulted in poor morale, and poor morale resulted in avoiding initiative and going into a survival mode of doing only what was absolutely necessary. In order to break this cycle, I’d need to radically change the daily motivation by shifting the focus from avoiding errors to achieving excellence.

A ship's strength is not in its size, but in its ability to sail against the tides.

Six big companies refused to refund me for a bad service. I humiliated them, I threaten them, I kept their product, and I made them pay for every cent at the end. My girlfriend asked me for some time off and challenged me. I dumped her without further discussion. My computer demanded a break. And so I broke it. I have some of its letters being shipped from across the world while I type without them, for seventeen hours a day, from Monday to Sunday. And yet, this world still seriously underestimates the one that was born in the darkness and shaped by the fire. I can eat the whole planet in one single bite if I want.

He loaded his soldiers into boats, sailed to the enemy’s country, unloaded soldiers and equipment, then gave the order to burn the ships that had carried them. Addressing his men before the first battle, he said, “You see the boats going up in smoke. That means that we cannot leave these shores alive unless we win! We now have no choice—we win, or we perish! They won. Every

Autonomy is the desire to steer our own ship. Mastery is the desire to steer it well. And purpose is the need for the journey to mean something. These three intrinsic rewards are the very motivators that motivate us most. In

If a ship is strong, the ocean's tides do not trouble it.

Rather than seeking incremental progress from the current state, try thinking about the future state you want to reach and then work backward to the present. What needs to happen to get there? This exercise can be inspiring and motivating, as you become guided by your future vision. Don't try to steer the ship by looking at its wake!

A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for. William G.T. Shedd

November 30th What do you know? For once I favourably surprise myself. After I'd read Howard's exemplary "White Ship" on Friday night and spent yesterday idling about in Providence - woolgathering, I suppose - I've finally made up my mind to sit down and attempt to lick this novel into some kind of functional shape. The central character I'm thinking, is a young man in his early thirties. He's well educated, but if forced by economic circumstance to leave his home in somewhere like Milwaukee (on the principle of writing about somewhere that you know) to seek employment further east. I feel I should give him a name. I know that details of this sort could wait until much later in the process, but I don't feel able to flesh out his character sufficiently until I've at least worked out what he's called. There's been a twenty minute pause between the end of the foregoing sentence and the start of this one, but I think his first name should be Jonathan. Jonathan Randall is the name that comes to me, perhaps by way of Randall Carver. Yes, I think I like the sound of that. So, young Jonathan Randall realises that his yearnings for a literary life have to be put aside to spare his parents dwindling resources, and that he must make his own way in the world, through manual labour if needs be, in order to become the self-sufficient grownup he aspires to be. During an early scene, perhaps in a recounting of Jonathan's childhood, there should be some striking incident which foreshadows the supernatural or psychological weirdness that will dominate the later chapters. Thinking about this, it seems to me that this would be the ideal place to introduce the bridge motif I've toyed with earlier in these pages: since I'm quite fond of the opening paragraphs that I've already written, with that long description of America as a repository for all the world's religious or else occult visionaries, I think what I'll do is largely leave that as it is, to function as a kind of prologue and establish the requisite mood, and then open the novel proper with Jonathan and a school friend playing truant on a summer's afternoon at some remote and overgrown ravine or other, where there's a precarious and creaking bridge with fraying ropes and missing boards that joins the chasm's two sides. I could probably set up the story's major themes and ideas in the two companions' dialogue, albeit simply expressed in keeping with their age and limited experience. Perhaps they're talking in excited schoolboy tones about some local legend, ghost story or piece of folklore that's connected with the bridge or the ravine. This would provide a motive - the eternal boyish fascination with the ghoulish - for them having come to this ill-omened spot while playing hooky, and would also help establish Jonathan's obsession with folkloric subjects as explored in the remainder of the novel.

In the pull of unknown...I sense my thirst....and so I wander...the way wild winds do....the way the tides long for the shores...the way the stars through darkness meander....like the ships adrift at sea....the way the robins flutter in the winds...the way the sea lulls itself to sleep....and starlight lives in the deepest of my deeps....

In the pull of unknown, I sense my thirst and so I wander the way wild winds do, the way tides long for the shores, the way the stars through darkness meander like the ships adrift at sea, the way robins flutter in the winds, the way the sea lulls itself to sleep and starlight lives in the deepest of my deeps....

In the pull of unknown, I sense my thirst, and so I wander, the way wild winds do, the way tides long for the shores, the way the stars through darkness meander, like the ships adrift at sea, the way robins flutter in the winds, the way the sea lulls itself to sleep and starlight lives in the deepest of my deeps..... In search of a river, I came at last, one rainless summer day, for lost I was in living without the love, my thirst is what split me in deeps. In the burning sky, I beheld your blaze. You blow as the wild winds blow from east, on the sands are the footprints beneath the blues of heaven, and in the sun, a golden gem. Your love as a river into my mouth, your blaze blows every desire that had me possessed, your arms have me wrapped tight with the light, for ended is the dark as dawn breaks in my deeps. From hither to thither, in longing I will flow, and eternally you will be the river for my thirst.

In the pull of unknown, I sense my thirst, and so I wander, the way wild winds do, the way tides long for the shores, the way the stars through darkness meander, like the ships adrift at sea, the way robins flutter in the winds, the way the sea lulls itself to sleep and starlight lives in the deepest of my deeps..... In search of a river, I came at last, one rainless summer day, for lost I was in living without the love, my thirst is what split me in deeps. In the burning sky, I beheld your blaze. You blow as the wild winds blow from east, on the sands are the footprints beneath the blues of heaven, and in the sun, a golden gem. Your love as a river into my mouth, your blaze blows every desire that had me possessed, your arms have me wrapped tight with the light, for ended is the dark as dawn breaks in my deeps. Hither to thither, in longing I will flow, and eternally you will be the river for my thirst.

Sit around too long thinking about how to begin and you’ll consume all your provisions while your ship rots in the harbor.

Why leave the comfort of the harbor? Because you are a ship captain, and a ship captain sails.

A ship in the harbour is safe, but that's not what ships are built for.

A ship doesn't sink while on water; it only succumbs when water gets inside. Ignore the insult and focus on the result.

They are, in fact, more likely to elevate the general mood, but not necessarily by talking the most or by running the show. More often, they contribute through quiet encouragement of whoever is motivated to speak or lead. Like many of those who get stuck in loneliness, some of the socially gifted are actually quite shy. Some have a threshold for connectedness that predisposes them to feel the pain of disconnection very acutely, and for them, shipping out to manage offshore operations in Singapore might not be the best career move. Susan did a very simple thing: She showed genuine interest in another human being, expecting nothing in return. That’s all it took to make a meaningful connection, which, at least briefly, improved life for each of them. Understand that much of your friend or loved one’s disagreeable behavior may be the result of fight-or-flight responses to a sense of being unsafe in the world, and that you can’t win by arguing. The most effective approach often is to directly address the person’s most basic emotions, which include dejection and fear. Remember that we humans often use words and logic merely to rationalize our primitive emotions and prior expectations.

Money, without brains, always is dangerous. Properly used, it is the most important essential of civilization. The simple breakfast here described could not have been delivered to the New York family at a dime each, or at any other price, if organized capital had not provided the machinery, the ships, the railroads, and the huge armies of trained men to operate them. Some

A chef wields dozens of tools, from spatulas to potato scrubbing gloves. Every once in a while, he’ll need the pastry brush, but every day he’ll use a chef’s knife, a frying pan, salt, and a stove. Like a chef, a motivation hacker has a core set of tools. I’ll introduce these in Chapters 3 and 4: success spirals, precommitment, and burnt ships. Sometimes you can reach into your motivation pantry (Chapter 12) and pull out some timeboxing, but it’s often best not to get too fancy. And just as the chef who dogmatically used his chef’s knife for everything would cook a terrible pancake, so would a motivation hacker fail to quit an internet addiction using only precommitment. No single technique can solve every problem. This book will recommend several approaches to increasing motivation. Use more than one at a time.

If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people together to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.

The simple fact is this; he who is the most bullish on the market, or has the lowest cost of capital, or has some other personal motivation for doing a deal, or ideally all three, wins the ship. Everyone else does nothing but talk about the very good and rational reasons they have for not doing deals. The simple fact is that you must take a view on the market. If you are not ready to do that, you will have trouble.

Stay the course. Don't tell me about the storms just bring the ship home and dock it.

Ships and railways do not spring up from the earth and function automatically. They come in response to the call of civilisation, through the labour and ingenuity and organising ability of people who have imagination, faith, enthusiasm, decision and persistence! These people are known as capitalists. They are motivated by the desire to build, construct, achieve, provide useful service, earn profits and accumulate riches. And, because they provide service without which there would be no civilisation, they put themselves in the way of great riches.

In some of our life projects we just never sit down to ask ourselves where we need to be going with it and so our 'ship of the project' wanders at the dictates of the waves rather than directed by the motor of our purpose

.Hardship is the best ship to board.

Mr. Hazlit, won’t you please, please help me find my reticule? It is one of my dearest possessions. I feel horrid for having lost track of it, and I’m too embarrassed to prevail upon anybody else but you to aid me in my hour of need.” She turned her best swain-slaying gaze on him in the moonlight, the look Val had told her never to use on his friends. For good measure, she let a little sincerity into her eyes, because she’d spoken nothing but the truth. “God help me.” Hazlit scrubbed a hand over his face. “Stick to quoting the law with me, please. I might have a prayer of retaining my wits.” She dropped the pleading expression. “You’ll keep our bargain, then?” “I will make an attempt to find this little purse of yours, but there are no guarantees in my work, Miss Windham. Let’s put a limit on the investigation—say, four weeks. If I haven’t found the thing by then, I’ll refund half your money.” “You needn’t.” She rose, relieved to have her business concluded. “I can spare it, and this is important to me.” “Where are you going?” He rose, as well, as manners required. But Maggie had the sense he was also just too… primordial to let a woman go off on her own in the moonlight. “I’m going back to the ballroom. We’ve been out here quite long enough, unless you’re again trying to wiggle out of your obligations?” “No need to be nasty.” He came closer and winged his arm at her. “We’ve had our bit of air, but you’ve yet to tell me anything that would aid me in attaining your goal. What does this reticule look like? Who has seen you with it? Where did you acquire it? When did you last have it?” “All of that?” “That and more if it’s so precious to you,” he said, leading her back toward the more-traveled paths. “That is just a start. I will want to establish who had access to the thing, what valuables it contained, and who might have been motivated to steal it.” “Steal?” She went still, dropping his arm, for this possibility honestly hadn’t occurred to her. She realized, as he replaced her hand on his arm, that she’d held the thought of theft away from her awareness, an unacknowledged fear. “You think somebody would steal a little pin money? People are hung for stealing a few coins, Mr. Hazlit, and transported on those awful ships, and… you think it was a thief?” “You clearly do not.” She was going to let him know in no uncertain terms that no, she could not have been victimized by a thief. She was too careful, too smart. She’d hired only staff with the best references, she seldom had visitors, and such a thing was utterly… “I did not reach that conclusion. I don’t want to.” Voices

You have control over yourself. You are the master of your destiny. You're the captain of your ship and YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...

Decide today to take a stand, make a plan, and get. No one ever said it was going to be easy and wouldn’t require effort. It will sometimes require that you go against the grain, face great challenge, conquer fear, overcome obstacles, and bounce back when knocked down. Choose to keep moving and don’t give up. And if your ship still doesn’t come in—swim out to it!

Initiative is The Start of All Good Things. Your ship will never come in if you don’t send any out. Have you ever found yourself dreaming, hoping, and waiting passively for things to change or for your life to get better?

Introduce Yourself. Being confident and outgoing will empower you to approach new people who might be reluctant to take the first step. It is amazing how many people we come in contact with yet pass like ships in the night without any engagement or connection.

During rough time in a Business, a Leader should act like a ship captain. His first and foremost priority should be to put his employees to security before thinking of his own welfare.

As recounted in his book It’s Your Ship, one of Captain Abrashoff’s first moves was to interview every one of the 310 crew members on the ship. He learned their personal histories and their motivations for joining the navy, and he sought their opinions about the Benfold: What do you like most? Least? What would you change if you could?

Every person who wins in any undertaking must be willing to burn his ships and cut all sources of retreat. Only by so doing can one be sure of maintaining that state of mind known as a burning desire to win, essential to success.

Every person who wins in any undertaking must be willing to burn his ships and cut all sources of retreat. Only by so doing can one be sure of maintaining that state of mind known as a burning desire to win, essential to success. The

No matter how difficult your situation may be today, no matter how discouraging the news, you can still lean on this: “The Lord has established His throne in heaven, and His kingdom rules over all” (v. 19). God is enthroned in heaven and in control of everything that happens. Sometimes it may not look like it. If you’re walking by sight, you may wonder if there is a God at all. Or if there is a God, does He care? Or if He cares, can He do anything? The psalmist tells us, “Don’t walk by sight; walk by faith.” God has an army. “Bless the Lord, you His angels, who excel in strength, who do His word, heeding the voice of His word” (v. 20). The angels act at His command. If we read and study the Word of God and obey it, everything in the universe will work with us. If we disobey the Word of God, everything will work against us—just as it did against Jonah, who was running in the wrong direction, going on the wrong ship, with the wrong motive, for the wrong purpose. God finally brought him to a place of obedience. Don’t be like Jonah. Have faith that God is in control and working on you in every situation.

Life is like riding a ship into the storm. For every wave you take up, you have to drop just as deep.

There was little of the religious idealism or of the search for personal freedom that motivated the Pilgrims in 1620 and none of the search to create a “City on a Hill” that spurred the Puritans to take ships for Boston in 1630. To these financial backers, the settlement of Virginia was primarily about trade and money.