Singing Motivational Quotes

Live your truth. Express your love. Share your enthusiasm. Take action towards your dreams. Walk your talk. Dance and sing to your music. Embrace your blessings. Make today worth remembering.

It doesn't matter what you did or where you were...it matters where you are and what you're doing. Get out there! Sing the song in your heart and NEVER let anyone shut you up!!

If you've got nothing to dance about, find a reason to sing.

Imagine there’s no Sadness, it’s easy if you try…” whoever sings, John something.  “Nothing white inside us, around us only DIE… Imagine all the Shells, Loving everyday—“ 

If reading makes you happy, do it. Whatever makes your heart sing and brings you joy, do that too.

I am a free soul, singing my heart out by myself no matter where I go and I call strangers my friends because I learn things and find ways to fit them into my own world. I hear what people say, rearrange it, take away and tear apart until it finds value in my reality and there I make it work. I find spaces in between the cracks and cuts where it feels empty and there I make it work.

Today is the day you choose to find joy, fulfillment and the path that will make your heart sing. It's your choice, never lose sight of that.

and half of learning to play is learning what not to play and she's learning the spaces she leaves have their own things to say and she's trying to sing just enough so that the air around her moves and make music like mercy that gives what it is and has nothing to prove she crawls out on a limb and begins to build her home and it's enough just to look around and to know that she's not alone up up up up up up up points the spire of the steeple but god's work isn't done by god it's done by people

There are no arguments. Can anyone who has reached the limit bother with arguments, causes, effects, moral considerations, and so forth? Of course not. For such a person there are only unmotivated motives for living. On the heights of despair, the passion for the absurd is the only thing that can still throw a demonic light on chaos. When all the current reasons—moral, esthetic, religious, social, and so on—no longer guide one's life, how can one sustain life without succumbing to nothingness? Only by a connection with the absurd, by love of absolute uselessness, loving something which does not have substance but which simulates an illusion of life. I live because the mountains do not laugh and the worms do not sing.

Music shouldn't be just a tune, it should be a touch.

You might say “no, you will never do that, that’s not you, not who I know, not who I thought you were”, and I will say "watch me".

Music is the fastest motivator in the world.

The heart is sometimes tainted with the songs of yesterday. Sing a new song today.

In life, you either choose to sing a rainbow, or you don't. Keep singing.

When the melody plays, footsteps move, heart sings and spirit begin to dance.

... because one day, maybe one day, if I learned how to write clear enough, sing loud enough, be strong enough, I could explain myself in a way that made sense and then maybe one day, one day, someone out there would hear and recognise her or himself and I could let them know that they are not alone. Just like that song I had on repeat for several nights as I walked lonely on empty streets, let me know that I was not alone and that’s how it starts.

You are Fire! Don’t believe these mere mortals. They want to put you on a pedestal and sing paeans to you; later they would burn you in the altar of that same fire! Stand away and stand alone! You are limitless! But these mortals can only limit your sky! You are the Universe! But they will only give you a little space! Break free! It’s a trap! They want to cage you! Because, they are afraid of your real power! You are a woman. You are the fire! You are all conquering. You are all powerful! You are Supreme! You were not born to be a mere beauty queen!!

New start or not, there was a line to be drawn, and that line was singing musicals to yourself as serious psychological motivation.

Take all of your wasted honor Every little past frustration Take all of your so-called problems, Better put 'em in quotations

A free spirit is not bound by this, that, matter, materialism or opinion. They sing, dance and flow on the wind - for they are at one with it. They are nothing and everything - void and expanse. Even space and time does not confine or define them. For they are pure energy itself.

Growl, you live in a slime lair and maintain an identity as the mysterious overlord of an undersea city, you command a fleet of meat dreadnaughts with crews of humanoid whale people, and you're currently reclining in a pulsating mass of gelatinous goo that looks like it escaped from hell's own Jell-O mold--so excuse the fuck out of me if I question your motives.

I don’t understand why people keep pushing that “Don’t be some random person. BE UNIQUE” message. You’re already incredibly unique. Everyone is incredibly unique. That’s why the police use fingerprints to identify people. So you’re incredibly unique … but in the exact same way that everyone else is. (Which, admittedly, doesn’t really sing and is never going to make it on a motivational T-shirt.) So none of us are unique in being unique because being unique is pretty much the least unique thing you can be, because it comes naturally to everyone. So perhaps instead of “BE UNIQUE” we should be saying, “Be as visibly fucked up as you want to be because being unique is already taken.” By everyone, ironically enough. Or maybe we should change the message to “Don’t just be some random person. Be the MOST random person.

To be a poet in a destitute time means: to attend, singing, to the trace of the fugitive god. This is why the poet in the time of the world's night utters the holy.

Your life is your song, sing it loud!

But that was long ago. She has long since lost interest in motives, in the details of other women's crimes. Even the hatchet makes its usual sense. A mother who loves her child with all her self is only so far from the hatchet anyway; one casual swing and it's done. Hatred, love, all muddled up in that space inside a whisper, when the words don't matter anymore, when the baby's half asleep and you can carry it all the way there if you want, on nothing but the tone of your voice. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall. Sing it as softly as you like—the words clench their own teeth. The child still falls.

If you want to sing, sing like today is your last. If you want to dance, dance like today is your last. If you want to laugh, laugh like today is your last. If birds sing without worrying about who is listening to them, and monkeys dance without worrying about who is watching them, and hyenas laugh without worrying about who is mocking them, then you too must do what you do best without worrying about who is ridiculing you.

The creatures reproduce by flaking. The young, when shed by a parent, are indistinguishable from dandruff. There is only one sex. Every creature simply sheds flakes of his own kind, and his own kind is like everybody else's kind. There is no childhood as such. Flakes begin flaking three Earthling hours after they themselves have been shed. They do not reach maturity, then deteriorate and die. They reach maturity and stay in full bloom, so to speak, for as long as Mercury cares to sing. There is no way in which one creature can harm another, and no motive for one’s harming another. Hunger, envy, ambition, fear, indignation, religion, and sexual lust are irrelevant and unknown. The creatures only have one sense: touch. They have weak powers of telepathy. The messages they are capable of transmitting and receiving are almost as monotonous as the song of Mercury. They have only two possible messages. The first is an automatic response to the second, and the second is an automatic response to the first. The first is, "Here I am, here I am, here I am." The second is, "So glad you are, so glad you are, so glad you are.

I wish I could run into the world’s arms. Linger within the spaces between nothing. I wish I could filter out of existence. To live quietly without dying. I wish I could be cherished by life itself. To speak and sing volumes without lying to myself.

Do not say, 'But it is hypocritical to thank God with my tongue when I don't feel thankful in my heart.' There is such a thing as hypocritical thanksgiving. Its aim is to conceal ingratitude and get the praise of men. That is not your aim. Your aim in loosing your tongue with words of gratitude is that God would be merciful and fill your words with the emotion of true gratitude. You are not seeking the praise of men; you are seeing the mercy of God. You are not hiding the hardness of ingratitude, but hoping for the in-breaking of the Spirit. Thanksgiving with the Mouth Stirs Up Thankfulness in the Heart Moreover, we should probably ask the despairing saint, 'Do you know your heart so well that you are sure the words of thanks have no trace of gratitude in them?' I, for one, distrust my own assessment of my motives. I doubt that I know my good ones well enough to see all the traces of contamination. And I doubt that I know my bad ones well enough to see the traces of grace. Therefore, it is not folly for a Christian to assume that there is a residue of gratitude in his heart when he speaks and sings of God's goodness even though he feels little or nothing. To this should be added that experience shows that doing the right thing, in the way I have described, is often the way toward being in the right frame. Hence Baxter gives this wise counsel to the oppressed Christian: 'Resolve to spend most of your time in thanksgiving and praising God. If you cannot do it with the joy that you should, yet do it as you can. You have not the power of your comforts; but have you no power of your tongues? Say not that you are unfit for thanks and praises unless you have a praising heart and were the children of God; for every man, good and bad, is bound to praise God, and to be thankful for all that he hath received, and to do it as well as he can, rather than leave it undone.... Doing it as you can is the way to be able to do it better. Thanksgiving stirreth up thankfulness in the heart.

GET OFF the paved path. It’s way too BASIC for you. There’s AIR to BREATHE. Oceans to FLOAT in. Dances to be DANCED. Songs to SING. Splendor to BEHOLD. Stop WAITING for PERMISSION.

A bird that sings too much will only lose its voice, but a bird that does not sing at all will lose its symphonies.

Turn your sorrow into singing.

I totally believe in my work and when I have something so good with me , I can't let it just sit with me. it shall dance,sing , fly and connect hearts ,so I write....

Life is about dancing in the rain while the sun sings its music and the rainbows deliver hope

Lord I thank you for the gift of breath, eyes to see, ears to hear, tongue to taste, nose to smell; mouth to speak, face to smile, voice to sing, body to dance, legs to walk, mind to think and hands to write.

I prayed as we walked up the hill. I prayed and felt a measure of calm return. No visions. No angels singing. But a feeling of peace flowed over me. Ii took a deep breath, and something hard and tight and ugly in my heart let go. I took it as a good sign that I'd get to Jeff in time. But part of me was skeptical. God doesn't always save someone. Often He just helps you live through the loss. I guess I don't entirely trust God. I never doubt Him, but His motives are too beyond me. Through a glass darkly and all that. Just once I'd like to see through the damn glass clearly.

I was, at the end of the day, a slow learner, an extremely slow learner afflicted with the lack of self-awareness to even realize it. I always thought I knew it all, but I was only ever motivated into action by one of two things: pleasure or pain.

If birds sing without worrying about who is listening to them, and monkeys dance without worrying about who is watching them, and hyenas laugh without worrying about who is mocking them, then you too must do what you do best without worrying about who is ridiculing you.

Great names come and go, but the name of Jesus remains. The devil still hates it, the world still opposes it, but God still blesses it and we can still claim it! “In the name of Jesus” is the key that unlocks the door of prayer and the treasury of God’s grace. It’s the weapon that defeats the enemy and the motivation that compels our sacrifice and service. It’s the name that causes our hearts to rejoice and our lips to sing his praise.

You have everything within you to do great things in this world. Maybe, you are inspired to sing a song, write a book or poems, create art in various forms. Or you may decide to find a cure for disease, end world hunger, prevent abuse, or take a stand politically. The question is how to begin the process of fulfilling your vision. Start where you are and use the resources you have to build from there. Inspiration is what motivates you to achieve your remarkable ideas. Also it takes time and dedication to excel to the next level.

Look around you. While dogs bark, birds sing and fly. People will talk; Don’t worry. You just walk- Just Fly!-RVM

Let go of your sorrow, sing.

To escape any sorrow, sing.

If you sing to one person as if you’re singing to a million, you will soon have an audience of a million.

I was only ever motivated into action by one of two things: pleasure or pain.

Begin to read, write, sing, dance, study, draw…!

It does not need to be perfect - or technically correct - to be magic

Birds keep singing beautiful songs, even if they have no audience.

Thoughts are ideas scattered in your head. When written forms a sentence. When rhymed, it forms a phrase and singing it blooms a beautiful poem.

If love does not arrive, sing and dance with melodies by your side.

I will sing because you have saved me, O LORD my God by grace.

If you are sad, do not forget to sing.

Stay safe but sing.

Life is a learning, a journey and a gift. Treasure, cherish, value and love it. Show up, open up, sing, share, dance and shine. Then you'll get the best out of it - and it will get the best out of you.

To turn away from the lifeless preachers and publishers of the day—may involve a real cross. Your motives will be misconstrued, your words perverted, and your actions misinterpreted. The sharp arrows of false report will be directed against you. You will be called proud and self-righteous, because you refuse to fellowship empty professors. You will be termed censorious and bitter—if you condemn in plain speech—the subtle delusions of Satan. You will be dubbed narrow-minded and uncharitable, because you refuse to join in singing the praises of the “great” and “popular” men of the day. More and more, you will be made to painfully realize—that the path which leads unto eternal life is “narrow” and that FEW there are who find it. May the Lord be pleased to grant unto each of us—the hearing ear and obedient heart! “Take heed what you hear” and read!

If you hug, if you kiss, if you love, If you sing, if you coo like a dove, If you still hope for things you dream of, Thank your mother, my dear, thank your mother. If you skip, if you hop, if you run, If you glow, if you shine like the sun, If you know healthy ways to have fun, Thank your mother, my dear, thank your mother. If you help, if you serve, if you pray, If you smile, if you live what you say, If you show by example the way, Thank your mother, my dear, thank your mother.

Following the emergence of leaked information regarding Alice Calloway, Etgar Allison has suffered considerable loss motivation, energy and interest in his usual pursuits (Wikipedia, YouTube, Kurt Vonnegut). He has been seen to spend long periods of time staring at inanimate objects and will occasionally stop whatever he is doing to lie face down on the floor and sing "One Thousand Miles" by Vanessa Carlton (a song he has described as "all that's left"). In an official statement given earlier today, he described bed as "better that sex" and Alice Calloway as "the horriblest bitch I know".

The purity of unison singing, unaffected by alien motives of musical techniques, the clarity, unspoiled by the attempt to give musical art an autonomy of its own apart from the words, the simplicity and frugality, the humaneness and warmth of this way of singing is the essence of all congregational singing. This,

Life can surround you with music, with books, with talents, with teachers, with all types of materials for opportunity. Life will not, however, make you sing or read or work or learn. Though the books are provided, you still must read them. Though the music plays, you still must sing along. People come and go, but you must reach out and make them your friends. Education is available, but you must study and learn. Life will not force you to take advantage of the opportunities around you. Life will not make you work to learn, to develop, to progress as required until you succeed. In the simplest terms, life pours water into your glass but it will not drink for you. You, and you alone, must pick up the cup and take a sip.

Why read this book to find out how to win friends? Why not study the technique of the greatest winner of friends the world has ever known? Who is he? You may meet him tomorrow coming down the street. When you get within ten feet of him, he will begin to wag his tail. If you stop and pat him, he will almost jump out of his skin to show you how much he likes you. And you know that behind this show of affection on his part, there are no ulterior motives: he doesn’t want to sell you any real estate, and he doesn’t want to marry you. Did you ever stop to think that a dog is the only animal that doesn’t have to work for a living? A hen has to lay eggs, a cow has to give milk, and a canary has to sing. But a dog makes his living by giving you nothing but love.

You can fight the feelings of depression by reminding yourself of blessings in your life. You can listen to music or sing. Even getting your mind off yourself by doing something kind for someone else will help immensely. Don't forget that our moods are connected to our thoughts; therefore, I urge you to take notice of what you're thinking about when you feel depressed. You may find the source of your problem.

ROSE DAY POEM: Rose.. if it is.. for the one whom you miss.. and you want to say a lot.. till now that you have not! - Then just go and dare to say.. for that moment is today.. beyond the earth and sky above.. Give it to the one whom you love!! - And sing your heart out.. to the universe aloud.. - O girl, O girl, O.. O.. girl.. you be mine.. You are more than this rose to me.. You be my.. Valentine. Just be mine.. O O.. Valentine!!!

For so much of my life I worshipped God: showing up for church, singing hymns, helping in the nursery, reading my Bible, confessing my belief in him. Yet if you could have witnessed what I was controlled by, what motivated and moved me, you would have seen that in many cases it was not God at all, but my idols. Not carved images, but people, career paths, materialism, acceptance, and more. God was getting my worship on some level, but my gods were getting my service.

Worship is God's gift of grace to us before it's our offering to God. We simply benefit from the perfect offering of the Son to the Father through the power of the Spirit (Ephesians 2:18). Worship is our humble, constant, appropriate, glad response to God's self-revelation and his enabling invitation. Apart from this perspective, leading worship can become self-motivated and self-exalting. We can become burdened by the responsibility to lead others and can think that we might not be able to deliver the goods. We subtly take pride in our worship, our singing, our playing, our planning, our performance, our leadership. Ultimately we separate ourselves from the God who drew us to worship him in the first place. That's why biblical worship is God-focused (God is clearly seen), God-centered (God is clearly the priority), and God-exalting (God is clearly honored). Gathering to praise God can't be a means to some "greater" end, such as church growth, evangelism, or personal ministry. God isn't a genie we summon by rubbing the bottle called "worship." He doesn't exist to help us get where we really want to go. God is where we want to go. So God's glory is the end of our worship, and not simply a means to something else. In the midst of a culture that glorifies our pitiful accomplishments in countless ways, we gather each week to proclaim God's wondrous deeds and to glory in his supreme value. He is holy, holy, holy. There is no one, and nothing, like the Lord.

Change, grow, expand, love and open your heart. The trees love us, just as we are, and the earth carries us, no matter how far. Our hearts stay with us and love us, and never truly let us down. The only thing that matters is the love and acceptance that we have for ourselves. How much do we laugh, love, sing with nature and embrace the gifts of those we love, while giving out blessings of our love? Dress up, dress down, take it off, be the clown and know that you are beautiful, just as you are. The wind, the sky and the sun love and support us no matter how we are. Chase your dreams, follow the stars and go to mars. Whose life? Your life. You are living the dream. Your dream. Go on, it will take you far. Just keep going.

Modern armies no longer line up in neat rows and charge each other from opposite sides of a battlefield. Strangely, however, they still train that way, for example, during marching drills. This practice is useful, it turns out, not to prep for actual battle conditions, but to build trust and solidarity among soldiers in a unit. Our species, for reasons that aren’t entirely clear, is wired to form social bonds when we move in lockstep with each other.48 This can mean marching together, singing or chanting in unison, clapping hands to a beat, or even just wearing the same clothes. In the early decades of the 20th century, IBM used corporate songs to instill a sense of unity among their workers.49 Some companies in Japan still use these practices today.

Interviewer: What helps to sustain you while you're climbing? Is there a particular Bible verse, or, song or song verse? Poem maybe? Mekael: That's a good question. Thoughts of my three sons, are my constant companions. Thoughts of them, help to keep me focused. As for other sources of inspiration....I'm a music lover. I think all Mountaineers and Poets are music lovers, so, when I'm climbing, I'm either in a Tupac zone, or I may be in a Linkin Park or Creed zone. Interviewer: Any song or verse in particular? Mekael: When during a climb, everything has aligned, Creed's 'Higher' pops into my head. I dig the part in the chorus when they sing..... 'Up high I feel like I'm, alive for the, very first time Set up high, I'm strong enough To take these dreams And make them mine

Sacraments   I once met a man whom I’ll call Steve. He grew up in a nondenominational charismatic church. He was a highly motivated, highly talented individual. He was also a strong leader and an excellent communicator. Given his personality and gifting, it’s no surprise that he became the pastor of a successful independent church. His life seemed to be going great until the day he discovered that his wife was having an affair with one of his best friends. The situation got worse when his church fired him for not being able to control his family.   Unemployed, going through a divorce, and cut off from the community that had always surrounded him, a friend invited Steve to join him at an Anglican church. There he discovered the power of liturgy and the mystery of the communion table. Steve didn’t have the kind of spiritual life he had always relied on. Nothing about God made any sense to him. He couldn’t sing praise songs, he couldn’t read the Bible, he couldn’t even pray. But he could eat.   Steve’s mind needed answers. His heart needed to be comforted. His soul needed grace. Sermons weren’t giving him answers and praise music wasn’t comforting, but the body of Christ was feeding his inner self. Steve discovered that God was real to him when he ate and drank Holy Communion. Even though Steve was at the lowest point of his life, a time when he could do nothing to help himself, he was still able to receive the sacrament.

The moment before the gun goes off is always the most silent. Your world is quiet, but it is not calm. The runners around you bounce and flex and relax, flex and relax. They slap their faces for motivation, they look to the sky and mumble prayers to God. The coaches shout instructions and the teammates cheer as do the fans in the stands, but you cannot hear because you are somewhere else, somewhere deep inside, preparing your body to deal with the coming pain, the breath sucked from you, your limbs on fire and the voices that won't let you stop. They say keep moving, it gets better, it will be better if you can only break through this pain. They say there's another life after this torture, a new level, just keep breathing. Then the gunshot and your body no longer belongs to you. Yes, you are there, you are present but you are no longer in control. Whatever happens from this point happens and all you can do, all you must do now is breathe, keep breathing, don't lose your nerve, don't choke, no matter how much it hurts, don't stop breathing otherwise it will all be over before it's time. They cheer for me. I can't breathe. Harvard isn't going to know what hit them, I hear. I can't breathe. We are the champions, I hear, we are the champions, they sing around me. I can't breathe. Your personal best by a long shot. That's Coach Erickson's voice. That's my boy. It's my father. It's like I'm dying, trying to hold on. My body says oh no, and my knees buckle but so many arms are around me, they hold me up. The voices they say breathe, keep breathing. They bring me water, they bring me something sweet and then they lay me down in the soft grass where I feel the blades against my tingling skin.

Usually, these services went something like this: an aggressive message on why going to hell would be like putting your face in the fire while listening to AC/DC, and that the solution to hell is to “ask Jesus into your heart.” In this paradigm, Jesus becomes the ticket out of a bad situation, and all that’s required to get your free pass is to “repeat this simple prayer after me.” And, poof…you’re “saved” and now a fully vetted Jesus follower. American Christianity has been poorly marketing Jesus in this way for years. The deep, mysterious, and beautifully difficult message of Jesus becomes diluted to the point that we sing, “I have decided to follow Jesus” or “All to Jesus I Surrender” as we make our way up the aisle—thinking that following Jesus is actually that simple. What’s worse is that often our motivation for “asking Jesus into our hearts” is that we’re petrified of the myriad of ways that Jesus will have us tortured for eternity if we don’t properly pray the “sinner’s prayer” to show him that we love him back. From that night forward, we’re supposed to faithfully attend a “Bible-believing church” and destroy our Guns n’ Roses CDs in order to show that we actually meant it when we prayed it. In American Christianity, we’re often sold this bill of goods that makes following Jesus look relatively easy…as if it were a singular event instead of a radical new lifestyle. Said the magic prayer? Check. Willing to go to church? Check. Going to work really hard to cut back on how much I use the “F word”? Check. The rewards of following this simple, relatively easy checklist of what it means to follow Jesus supposedly has a huge payout. Not only do we get to claim our “get out of hell free” card, but

According to folk belief that is reflected in the stories and poems, a being who is petrified man and he can revive. In fairy tales, the blind destructiveness of demonic beings can, through humanization psychological demons, transformed into affection and love of the water and freeing petrified beings. In the fairy tale " The Three Sisters " Mezei de-stone petrified people when the hero , which she liked it , obtain them free . In the second story , the hero finding fairy , be petrified to the knee , but since Fairy wish to marry him , she kissed him and freed . When entering a demonic time and space hero can be saved if it behaves in a manner that protects it from the effects of demonic forces . And the tales of fortune Council hero to not turn around and near the terrifying challenges that will find him in the demon area . These recommendations can be tracked ancient prohibited acts in magical behavior . In one short story Penina ( evil mother in law ) , an old man , with demonic qualities , sheds , first of two brothers and their sister who then asks them , iron Balot the place where it should be zero as chorus, which sings wood and green water . When the ball hits the ground resulting clamor and tumult of a thousand voices, but no one sees - the brothers turned , despite warnings that it should not , and was petrified . The old man has contradictory properties assistants and demons . Warning of an old man in a related one variant is more developed - the old man tells the hero to be the place where the ball falls to the reputation of stones and hear thousands of voices around him to cry Get him, go kill him, swang with his sword , stick go ! . The young man did not listen to warnings that reveals the danger : the body does not stones , during the site heroes - like you, and was petrified . The initiation rite in which the suffering of a binding part of the ritual of testing allows the understanding of the magical essence of the prohibition looking back . MAGICAL logic respectful direction of movement is particularly strong in relation to the conduct of the world of demons and the dead . From hero - boys are required to be deaf to the daunting threats of death and temporarily overcome evil by not allowing him to touch his terrible content . The temptation in the case of the two brothers shows failed , while the third attempt brothers usually releases the youngest brother or sister . In fairy tales elements of a rite of passage blended with elements of Remembrance lapot . Silence is one way of preventing the evil demon in a series of ritual acts , thoughts Penina Mezei . Violation of the prohibition of speech allows the communication of man with a demon , and abolishes protection from him . In fairy tales , this ritual obligations lost connection with specific rituals and turned into a motive of testing . The duration of the ban is extended in the spirit of poetic genre in years . Dvanadestorica brothers , to twelve for saving haunted girls , silent for almost seven years, but eleven does not take an oath and petrified ; twelfth brother died three times , defeat the dragon , throw an egg at a crystal mountain , and save the brothers ( Penina Mezei : 115 ) . Petrify in fairy tales is not necessarily caused by fear , or impatience uneducated hero . Self-sacrificing hero resolves accident of his friend's seemingly irrational moves, but he knows that he will be petrified if it is to warn them in advance , he avoids talking . As his friend persuaded him to explain his actions , he is petrified ( Penina Mezei : 129 ) . Petrified friends can save only the blood of a child , and his " borrower " Strikes sacrifice their own child and revives his rescuers . A child is a sacrificial object that provides its innocence and purity of the sacrificial gift of power that allows the return of the forces of life.

Birds Fly in the Sky, because they don't know how to Cry! They know just one thing, to Sing!-RVM

... My soul sings loudly, forever changed by love Crafting oceans of majestic pain But releasing every storm from within Feeling exhausted, but safe and blessed ... (Excerpted from Healed by rain, chapter Resilience)

It was time to expect more of myself. Yet as I thought about happiness, I kept running up against paradoxes. I wanted to change myself but accept myself. I wanted to take myself less seriously—and also more seriously. I wanted to use my time well, but I also wanted to wander, to play, to read at whim. I wanted to think about myself so I could forget myself. I was always on the edge of agitation; I wanted to let go of envy and anxiety about the future, yet keep my energy and ambition. Elizabeth’s observation made me wonder about my motivations. Was I searching for spiritual growth and a life more dedicated to transcendent principles—or was my happiness project just an attempt to extend my driven, perfectionist ways to every aspect of my life?

Politically, statism breeds a swarm of “little Caesars,” who are motivated by power-lust. Culturally, statism breeds still lower a species: a swarm of “little Neros,” who sing odes to depravity while the lives of their forced audiences go up in smoke.

Without a song, life is a sad tune

Prisoners resent being questioned about crime motives. That is why psychiatry and psychological treatment in prisons have accomplished little with prisoners. The trouble is that we expect too much of the man in prison. We want him to be better than we are, or hope to be. On a par with Caesar's wife--beyond suspicion. Let us be frank about it. We are mortally afraid of him.

Joy of the self, as explained in the above verse of the Gita, can be explained by understanding driving force whilst we pursue a hobby. Why is it that, when we pursue a hobby such as singing, painting, a sport, etc., we seem to have unlimited energy that comes from within? Why does self-motivation automatically take the driver’s seat during those moments of working on a hobby? Why is it that even a failure while working on a hobby does not stop us from pursuing it further? Why are we stress-free whilst engaged in a hobby? Why doesn’t this happen when it comes to our profession?

A bird doesn't sing because it knows the song. It sings because it carries the melody in its heart. May you always dance to the rhythm of your heart.

How could you be sad, when you can sing?

If you sing, you will not be sorrow.

Let the starlight shine upon you, let it lead you to your peace...” “Wil?” I murmured. This was the lullaby Mother used to sing to us when we were little. The song Ethereal was supposed to be singing to her firstborn daughter, back at the dawn of time. “It’s your fire that keeps you breathing and will never let you cease...

When prayer flags flutter and the prayers inscribed on them blend into the wind, the surroundings sing. Hope soars, compassion spills. May those feelings guide us all through the day.

If you want to sing, you sing without considering who is listening or what they might think.

Despite mournful envy and Dejected wrath, We bask under blue skies, Bewitching stars, And mystical moons, Loving rumbles of thunder, Glistening raindrops, And a hazy peaceful sunrise. In the face of Sorrowful greed, We delight in magnificent mountains, Bountiful oceans, Turquoise lagoons, Beautiful blossoms, And the green, green grass Of springtime. Through raging anger, Aching sadness, We treasure radiant sunsets, Seek marble courtyards, Ancient architecture, And splendid arched bridges. We sing the praises of Breathtaking falls. Even crushed And bewildered, We are captivated by Exquisite winged creatures, Tropical forests, And the critters we nurture. We embrace the power in our divinity And the superb magic of everything. With every threat to the world We belong to And embrace, We revel in books and dreams. We’re mesmerized by Otherworldly visions And plentiful hues. We cherish The light in ever-curious Truth seekers, And are ever grateful For smiles, Rapturous affection, Laughter, And love.

Today we are suffering because those who know better choose not to entertain politics and those who don’t know. The ones without integrity choose to sing the tune and praises of the one who gives them money, who feeds them or who promised to give them something. They see corruption as connections. Oppositions as spies, agencies, puppet masters, proxies, sellouts, stogies or clever blacks. Accountability to them means they are being targeted and hated. They choose to see themselves and those they support as victims when they must answer for their crimes or wrongdoings.

Surrender, Submit, Sing.

In misery, do not be sad but sing.

All the pain that came with loving was absolutely worth it. What was the point of living if you spent it in fear?

Say what you believe And fight with all you are I told you truth wasn’t easy —Neither is catching a shooting star.” —‘Only the Truth

May God bless you with all the colours of life - may your days be filled with joy, happiness, and friendship, and may your heart be filled with the beautiful shades of love. On this auspicious occasion, I hope you and your family have a wonderful time playing with vibrant colours, singing and dancing to cheerful tunes, and sharing laughter and happiness with your loved ones. May your life be as colourful and bright as the beautiful hues of Holi. Wishing you and your family a happy and blessed Holi. May your day be filled with fun, frolic, and endless memories to cherish.

Wings of fire It was a strange sight, That brought feelings of excitement and fright, A butterfly with wings of fire, One representing wishes and the other meant to hoist her every desire, There seemed to be no place where she could not go, I had never seen her before, not even long ago, Wherever she went, she set all flowers on fire, Creating blazing gardens of endless desire, Where wishes like pollen dust scattered everywhere, Lifted by the ever rising flames and then dispersed here and there, And wherever it fell, There was no beauty to be felt and no stories to tell, Because the flames turned the dust into a secret alchemy that resembled the inferno of hell, Gardens burned, lands were parched, it was a diabolic sight that no words can explain well, So, wherever the butterfly with wings of fire went, It left trails of fire and devastation, with nature’s will broken and completely bent, The butterfly used to be beautiful once, It loved to fly and freely dance, Until it was caught in a man made drought, Leaving it exhausted and distraught, As its wings stiffened and fell, And it began collapsing into the hell, There somehow she developed wings of fire, To claim her unfulfilled wishes and her every desire, And since then she has been on a rampage, Nature too does not want to contain her in the cage, Because she is avenging its losses, So, now she recklessly all heights and every length crosses, Wherever she goes the world of blazes and fires blooms, With just one prospect, that of gloom and endless dooms, Her desires are infinite, so her wings will never lose their fire now, There is only one way to stop her, via a kiss of love, But who would dare to kiss the wings of fire, Let alone the act, the very thought does scare and tire, Maybe the world, her world and our world will soon be reduced to cinders, And we can only hope that someday she forgives us all, her offenders, But behold the act of providence, Her only means of guidance, The wet drops of rain are soothing her hot and blazing wings, And as her wings regain their natural and colourful shades, she once again sings, Hopefully this spell of beauty lasts longer, And humans and beautiful butterflies will once again learn to live together!

You can’t stop it from raining, but you can open yourself up until this very same rain is the best thing that has ever happened to you. Sing in the rain, sing about the rain, write a hit song about the rain. It is all divinity, every last bit of it, and you are lucky to be involved.

In the grand opera of existence, those who yearn to sing will weave their own verses, creating harmonies that echo through the corridors of time.

Bhakti, love of God, is the only essential thing. One kind of bhakti has a motive behind it. Again, there is a motiveless love, pure devotion, a love of God that seeks no return. Keshab Sen and the members of the Brāhmo Samāj didn’t know about motiveless love. In this love there is no desire; it is nothing but pure love of the Lotus Feet of God. “There is another kind of love, known as urjhitā bhakti, an ecstatic love of God that overflows, as it were. When it is awakened, the devotee ‘laughs and weeps and dances and sings’. Chaitanyadeva is an example of this love. Rāma said to Lakshmana, ‘Brother, if anywhere you see the manifestation of urjhitā bhakti, know for certain that I am there.

You'll Never Walk Alone' is cheesy but not wrong. The song doesn't claim that the world is just a happy place. It just asks us to walk on with hopes in our hearts. And like Louis in the Carousel, even if you don't really believe in the golden sky or the sweet silver song of the lark when you start singing, you believe it a little more when you finish.

Lord I thank you for the gift of breath, eyes to see, ears to hear, tongue to taste, nose to smell, mouth to speak, face to smile, voice to sing, body to dance, legs to walk, mind to think and hands to write.

Birds Fly in the Sky, because they don't know how to Cry! They know just one thing, to Sing! -RVM

Examine the first hundred people you meet, ask them what they want most in life, and ninety eight of them will not be able to tell you. If you press them for an answer, some will say— security, many will say— money, a few will say— happiness, others will say— fame and power, and still others will say— social recognition, ease in living, ability to sing, dance, or write, but none of them will be able to define these terms, or give the slightest indication of a plan by which they hope to attain these vaguely expressed wishes. Riches do not respond to wishes. They respond only to definite plans, backed by definite desires, through constant persistence.

Choose Gratitude Gratitude is a force that permeates your being and changes you from the inside out. Thankfulness is rooted in the heart and expressed by words, but it is proven by action. If you really have gratitude for all I do, then you will show it through your conduct and not merely by your words. True gratitude will motivate you to change your heart and become more like Me. So consider reflecting on a heart of gratitude today. Take the time to remember all I’ve done for you to love you, bless you, provide for you, take care of you, and save you. Reflect on My deeds and let the works of My love stir up a gracious heart in you. Then show Me your gratitude through what you do. Scripture for Thought “Oh, give thanks to the LORD! Call upon His name; Make known His deeds among the peoples! Sing to Him, sing psalms to Him; Talk of all His wondrous works! Glory in His holy name; Let the hearts of those rejoice who seek the LORD!” (Psalm 105:1–3, NKJV)