Unvalued Quotes

He removed his unvaluable valuables and dumped his shirt, pants, and skivvies into a letter slot.

Why must we be left, the survivors picking among the flotsam, among the small, unnoticed, unvalued clutter that was all that remained when they vanished, that only catastrophe made notable?

I tell you I have nearly attained MY heaven; and that of others is altogether unvalued and uncovered by me.

Celebrities are valued merely because they are seen by millions, while unborn babies are unvalued because they haven’t yet been seen by anyone. Our culture has embraced the cliché that out of sight really is out of mind.

His greatness weigh’d, his will is not his own; For he himself is subject to his birth: He may not, as unvalued persons do, Carve for himself; for on his choice depends The safety and health of this whole state; And therefore must his choice be circumscribed Unto the voice and yielding of that body Whereof he is the head.

There is one in this tribe too often miserable - a child bereaved of both parents. None cares for this child: she is fed sometimes, but oftener forgotten: a hut rarely receives her: the hollow tree and chill cavern are her home. Forsaken, lost, and wandering, she lives more with the wild beast and bird than with her own kind. Hunger and cold are her comrades: sadness hovers over, and solitude besets her round. Unheeded and unvalued, she should die: but she both lives and grows: the green wilderness nurses her, and becomes to her a mother: feeds her on juicy berry, on saccharine root and nut. There is something in the air of this clime which fosters life kindly: there must be something, too, in its dews, which heals with sovereign balm. Its gentle seasons exaggerate no passion, no sense; its temperature tends to harmony; its breezes, you would say, bring down from heaven the germ of pure thought, and purer feeling. Not grotesquely fantastic are the forms of cliff and foliage; not violently vivid the colouring of flower and bird: in all the grandeur of these forests there is repose; in all their freshness there is tenderness. The gentle charm vouchsafed to flower and tree, - bestowed on deer and dove, - has not been denied to the human nursling. All solitary, she has sprung up straight and graceful. Nature cast her features in a fine mould; they have matured in their pure, accurate first lines, unaltered by the shocks of disease. No fierce dry blast has dealt rudely with the surface of her frame; no burning sun has crisped or withered her tresses: her form gleams ivory-white through the trees; her hair flows plenteous, long, and glossy; her eyes, not dazzled by vertical fires, beam in the shade large and open, and full and dewy: above those eyes, when the breeze bares her forehead, shines an expanse fair and ample, - a clear, candid page, whereon knowledge, should knowledge ever come, might write a golden record. You see in the desolate young savage nothing vicious or vacant; she haunts the wood harmless and thoughtful: though of what one so untaught can think, it is not easy to divine. On the evening of one summer day, before the Flood, being utterly alone - for she had lost all trace of her tribe, who had wandered leagues away, she knew not where, - she went up from the vale, to watch Day take leave and Night arrive. A crag, overspread by a tree, was her station: the oak-roots, turfed and mossed, gave a seat: the oak-boughs, thick-leaved, wove a canopy. Slow and grand the Day withdrew, passing in purple fire, and parting to the farewell of a wild, low chorus from the woodlands. Then Night entered, quiet as death: the wind fell, the birds ceased singing. Now every nest held happy mates, and hart and hind slumbered blissfully safe in their lair. The girl sat, her body still, her soul astir; occupied, however, rather in feeling than in thinking, - in wishing, than hoping, - in imagining, than projecting. She felt the world, the sky, the night, boundlessly mighty. Of all things, herself seemed to herself the centre, - a small, forgotten atom of life, a spark of soul, emitted inadvertent from the great creative source, and now burning unmarked to waste in the heart of a black hollow. She asked, was she thus to burn out and perish, her living light doing no good, never seen, never needed, - a star in an else starless firmament, - which nor shepherd, nor wanderer, nor sage, nor priest, tracked as a guide, or read as a prophecy? Could this be, she demanded, when the flame of her intelligence burned so vivid; when her life beat so true, and real, and potent; when something within her stirred disquieted, and restlessly asserted a God-given strength, for which it insisted she should find exercise?

Why, all our art treasures of to-day are only the dug-up commonplaces of three or four hundred years ago. I wonder if there is real intrinsic beauty in the old soup-plates, beer-mugs, and candle-snuffers that we prize so now, or if it is only the halo of age glowing around them that gives them their charms in our eyes. The “old blue” that we hang about our walls as ornaments were the common every-day household utensils of a few centuries ago; and the pink shepherds and the yellow shepherdesses that we hand round now for all our friends to gush over, and pretend they understand, were the unvalued mantel-ornaments that the mother of the eighteenth century would have given the baby to suck when he cried. Will it be the same in the future? Will the prized treasures of to-day always be the cheap trifles of the day before? Will rows of our willow-pattern dinner-plates be ranged above the chimneypieces of the great in the years 2000 and odd? Will the white cups with the gold rim and the beautiful gold flower inside (species unknown), that our Sarah Janes now break in sheer light-heartedness of spirit, be carefully mended, and stood upon a bracket, and dusted only by the lady of the house? That china dog that ornaments the bedroom of my furnished lodgings. It is a white dog. Its eyes blue. Its nose is a delicate red, with spots. Its head is painfully erect, its expression is amiability carried to verge of imbecility. I do not admire it myself. Considered as a work of art, I may say it irritates me. Thoughtless friends jeer at it, and even my landlady herself has no admiration for it, and excuses its presence by the circumstance that her aunt gave it to her. But in 200 years’ time it is more than probable that that dog will be dug up from somewhere or other, minus its legs, and with its tail broken, and will be sold for old china, and put in a glass cabinet. And people will pass it round, and admire it. They will be struck by the wonderful depth of the colour on the nose, and speculate as to how beautiful the bit of the tail that is lost no doubt was. We, in this age, do not see the beauty of that dog. We are too familiar with it. It is like the sunset and the stars: we are not awed by their loveliness because they are common to our eyes. So it is with that china dog. In 2288 people will gush over it. The making of such dogs will have become a lost art. Our descendants will wonder how we did it, and say how clever we were. We shall be referred to lovingly as “those grand old artists that flourished in the nineteenth century, and produced those china dogs.” The “sampler” that the eldest daughter did at school will be spoken of as “tapestry of the Victorian era,” and be almost priceless. The blue-and-white mugs of the present-day roadside inn will be hunted up, all cracked and chipped, and sold for their weight in gold, and rich people will use them for claret cups; and travellers from Japan will buy up all the “Presents from Ramsgate,” and “Souvenirs of Margate,” that may have escaped destruction, and take them back to Jedo as ancient English curios.

Lucille would tell this story differently. She would say I fell asleep, but I did not. I simply let the darkness in the sky become coextensive with the darkness in my skull and bowels and bones. Everything that falls upon the eye is apparition, a sheet dropped over the world’s true workings. The nerves and the brain are tricked, and one is left with dreams that these specters loose their hands from ours and walk away, the curve of the back and the swing of the coat so familiar as to imply that they should be permanent fixtures of the world, when in fact nothing is more perishable. Say that my mother was as tall as a man, and that she sometimes set me on her shoulders, so that I could splash my hands in the cold leaves above our heads. Say that my grandmother sang in her throat while she sat on her bed and we laced up her big black shoes. Such details are merely accidental. Who could know but us? And since their thoughts were bent upon other ghosts than ours, other darknesses than we had seen, why must we be left, the survivors picking among flotsam, among the small, unnoticed, unvalued clutter that was all that remained when they vanished, that only catastrophe made notable? Darkness is the only solvent.

Children may make mistakes, but we should never make them feel unloved or unvalued when they do. Their self-image may suffer as a result of this practice, they may believe their mistake is a part of them or personifies the mistake.

Where grave philosophers have watched the setting sun die out of the sky, as the glories of their own youth have died away unvalued, till lost for ever. Where ascetic reading-men have mooned along its banks blind to all the loveliness of the water-lily below, or the clouds above, as they took their constitutional and pondered their prize essay.

In conclusion of my story the purpose of writing it is to help you,by motivate, inspire, giving hope of finishing strong nomatter how hard is it, trust God the master of everything that he will make you come out strong in those situations as he done to me and others hang in there it almost done,you'll come out shine like a gold on that fire I promise you your name will change If you know as weak, useless ,unvalued person after trials you going to be on heardlines of news everyone will ask about you and they going to look at you high and low remember one thing all praise unto God who created Heavens and Earth never forget him on your ways humbleness must be you sheild to escape God's anger.

Value your value for unvalued value is valueless.

People don’t leave without a reason. They walk away when they feel unseen, unheard, and unvalued.

As I think about Dad, I suddenly understand why you didn’t ask Emilio to take any responsibility for Xavier. Your baby was too precious, too loved, for anyone to turn him into a blemish on their lives. He should never feel unvalued or unwanted. You weren’t protecting Emilio but your child.

Everything that falls upon the eye is an apparition, a sheet dropped over the world's true workings. The nerves & brain are tricked, and one is left with dreams that these specters loose their hands from ours and walk away...so familiar as to imply that they should be permanent fixtures of the world, when in fact nothing is more perishable...Why must we be left, the survivors picking among flotsam, among the small, unnoticed, unvalued clutter that remained when they vanished, that only catastrophe had made notable?...It seemed to me that what perished need not also be lost.

Quotes and Comparison-2 Several quotes by various philosophers and figures, such as William Shakespeare, Winston Churchill, Albert Einstein, James Russell Lowell, Galileo Galilei, Bill Gates, Ernest Hemingway, Dale Carnegie, Aristotle, and Stephen Hawking, provide a critical comparison with a journalist and scholar Ehsan Sehgal Quotes. 7. I choose a lazy person to do a hard job. Because a lazy person will find an easy way to do it. Bill Gates A lazy one remains only the lazy, whether one provides only difficult or non-difficult ways; the problem is laziness, not the nature of matter. Ehsan Sehgal 8. Don't compare yourself with anyone in this world. If you do so, you are insulting yourself. Bill Gates You may compare yourself with others in the world to correct your flaws and do your best to become unique. Without that, you learn nothing. Ehsan Sehgal 8. If you are born poor it's not your mistake, But if you die poor it's your mistake. Bill Gates As a nature, each one is born equal, the world divides that into the classes for its motives. It is not a mistake; one is born and dies, rich or poor. It is one's fate since the world runs with it. Ehsan Sehgal 9. As a writer, you should not judge. You should understand. Ernest Hemingway As a writer, you should judge and observe; it leads you to understand. Ehsan Sehgal 10. Feeling sorry for yourself, and your present condition is not only a waste of energy but the worst habit you could possibly have. Dale Carnegie Feeling sorry for oneself demonstrates the way of realizing the tragedies and mistakes of life that may soften the burden of the pain, looking forward with the best efforts. Indeed, sorry is a confession, not a waste of time. Ehsan Sehgal 11. The United Nations was set up not to get us to heaven, but only to save us from hell. Winston Churchill The States of the World reorganized the intergovernmental organization the League of Nations as the United Nations, not for saving us from hell but for bringing us to hell, obeying the Veto Drivers. However, be sure that changing all the long-standing objects, subjects, figures, systems, and monopolies will create a way of peace and heaven. Ehsan Sehgal 12. Pleasure in the job puts perfection in work. Aristotle Pleasure in whatever subject shows willingness and accuracy, not perfection since humans are incapable of that. 13. Dignity does not consist in possessing honours, but in deserving them. Aristotle Sober character, honest conduct, and sweet talk entitle a person to real dignity, nothing else. Ehsan Sehgal 14. You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honour. Aristotle Indeed, without concrete action, courage collapses and stays dishonored and unvalued since alone courage establishes nothing. Ehsan Sehgal 15. Look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist. Be curious. Stephen Hawking Before observing the stars, first, one should also maintain a foot position for safety so that one can confidently focus on the mysteries and science of the universe; indeed, curiosity reaches and reveals the realities of that. Ehsan Sehgal

As the offspring of Platonist-Abrahamic de-enchantment of nature, science bears the birth scar of a world unvalued. Through a kind of emotionally detached childhood, science grew strong but felt little love for its mother, Nature. Consequently, science has had a brilliant career, but as it matured it has tended to deny paternity for two unintended twin offspring: sufferings inflicted and damages done.

Behind my back I fling, Like an unvalued thing, My former self and ways, And reaching forward far, I seek the things that are Beyond time’s lagging days.

Hana didn’t know that I existed, much less that I was looking for her. She didn’t know that anyone was looking. Hana wasn’t like me. She was like Candace, Shar, Karice—every lost girl in the world who felt herself unvalued and unsought. She had no way to know that somewhere in the world, right now, her name was being called.

Warriors must know that they are valued. Praise… praise from one’s peers must be given when the moment is right. Without it, even the most steadfast man will eventually feel unvalued.

I am but one climbing a ladder of millions, and those millions have seen each beneath them, and held the same rungs of knowledge one after the other. I am just number million and one, and there are a billion more.

It’s impossible to know if investing time and money in my domestic space is making me happier as a mother, but I’m loath to imagine a world in which my maternal labor is unvalued, unpaid, and disrespected and there’s no reprieve to be found in buying something to soothe the ache of longing.

Comparison To Three Quotes Of Aristotle * Pleasure in the job puts perfection in work. - Aristotle * Pleasure in whatever subject shows the willingness and accuracy, not perfection since human is incapable of that. - Ehsan Sehgal * Dignity does not consist in possessing honors, but in deserving them. - Aristotle * Sober character, honest conduct, and sweet talk entitle a real dignity, nothing else. - Ehsan Sehgal * You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honor. - Aristotle * Indeed, without concrete action, courage collapses and stays dishonoured and unvalued since alone courage, establishes nothing. - Ehsan Sehgal

You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honor. - Aristotle * Indeed, without concrete action, courage collapses and stays dishonoured and unvalued since alone courage establishes nothing. - Ehsan Sehgal