Unwind With Friends Quotes

Anger is only our friend when we know its caliber and how to aim it.

Milestone! This is a momentous occasion," he tells her cheerily. "It should be witnessed by a friend." She throws him an icy gaze, and he does a verbal back pedal. "Aaaand since no friends are present, I'll have to do.

Live while you’re living, friends.

You've always lived here, right?" Sarah asked. "Except for the years I went to college." "Didn't you ever want to move away? To experience something new?" "Like bistros?" She nudged him playfully with her elbow. "No, not just that. Cities have a vibrancy, a sense of excitement that you can't find in a small town." "I don't doubt it. But to be honest, I've never been interested in things like that. I don't need those things to make me happy. A nice quiet place to unwind at the end of the day, beautiful views, a few good friends. What else is there?

The symbols and the gifts and the tools of Awakening are noticed everywhere once you have opened your heart to them. They are free and Freely Given. They come with blessings and with no cost or sacrifice. They come easily to a willing heart and open mind. Be not afraid of Love. Love comes as a Friend and the Holy Spirit is Friendly and Gentle.

THIS IS WHY He will never be given to wonder much if he was the mouth for some cruel force that said it. But if he were (this will comfort her) less than one moment out of millions had he meant it. So many years and so many turns they had swerved around the subject. And he will swear for many more the kitchen and everything in it vanished -- the oak table, their guests, the refrigerator door he had been surely propped against-- all changed to rusted ironwork and ash except in the center in her linen caftan: she was not touched. He remembers the silence before he spoke and her nodding a little, as if in the meat of this gray waste here was the signal for him to speak what they had long agreed, what somewhere they had prepared together. And this one moment in the desert of ash stretches into forever. They had been having a dinner party. She had been lonely. A friend asked her almost joking if she had ever felt really crazy, and when she started to unwind her answer in long, lovely sentences like scarves within her he saw this was the way they could no longer talk together. And that is when he said it, in front of the guests, because he couldn't bear to hear her. And this is why the guests have left and she screams as he comes near her.

But what if I do live? What if we win? What then?" He parted the bottle's mouth from his. "What then? Ah." He smiled beatifically. "Then the world goes on, my friend. Children run down muddy streets. Dogs bark at passing carts. Friends sit and drink brandy together." "Doesn't sound much different from what we have," I observed sourly. "To go through all this and make no difference at all." "Yes." He agreed beatifically. His eyes filled with tears. "Not much different from the wondrous and amazing world we have now. Boys falling in love with girls that aren't right for them. Wolves hunting on the snowy plains. And time. Endless time unwinding for all of us. And the dragons, of course. Dragons sliding across the sky like beautiful jewelled ships.

Time waits for no man" but no man dares not wait for "his Time." "Love is patient" but Time is not, yet it takes Time to find Love. Love they say, is blind. Because it "covers a multitude of sins?" To Love we should unwind, tell me when was the last Time. Love is steep; in no Time you fall in it. Time is free, howbeit, a sacrifice to spend with Love. The more Love fills the heart, the Less Time to mind... Yet, the same Time heals the heart when Love breaks it. Yay, the friendly enmity between Time and Love. Embrace it, only if you can!

There are videos and books in her room to entertain her, but Miracolina has to laugh, because just as the harvest camp van had only happy, family-friendly movies, the titles she has to choose from here have a clear agenda as well. They’re all about kids being mistreated, but rising above it, or kids empowering themselves in a world that doesn’t understand them. Everything from Dickens to Salinger—as if Miracolina Roselli could possibly have anything in common with Holden Caulfield. ... Finally a bald middle-aged man comes in with a clipboard and a name tag that just says BOB. “I used to be a respected psychiatrist until I spoke out against unwinding,” Bob tells her after the obligatory introductions. “Being ostracized was a blessing in disguise, though, because it allowed me to come here, where I’m truly needed.” Miracolina keeps her arms folded, giving him nothing. She knows what this is all about. They call it “deprogramming,” which is a polite term for undoing brainwashing with more brainwashing.

If you’re going to give me the third degree,” she tells him, “let’s get it over with. Best to withhold food or water; water is probably best. I’ll get thirsty before I get hungry.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Do you really think I’m like that? Why would you think that?” “I was taken by force, and you’re keeping me here against my will,” she says, leaning across the table toward him. She considers spitting in his face, but decides to save that gesture as punctuation for a more appropriate moment. “Imprisonment is still imprisonment, no matter how many layers of cotton you wrap it in.” That makes him lean farther away, and she knows she’s pushed a button. She remembers seeing those pictures of him back when he was all over the news, wrapped in cotton and kept in a bombproof cell. “I really don’t get you,” he says, a bit of anger in his voice this time. “We saved your life. You could at least be a little grateful.” “You have robbed me, and everyone here, of their purpose. That’s not salvation, that’s damnation.” “I’m sorry you feel that way.” Now it’s her turn to get angry. “Yes, you’re sorry I feel that way, everyone’s sorry I feel that way. Are you going to keep this up until I don’t feel that way anymore?” He stands up suddenly, pushing his chair back, and paces, fern leaves brushing his clothes. She knows she’s gotten to him. He seems like he’s about to storm out, but instead takes a deep breath and turns back to her. “I know what you’re going through,” he says. “I was brainwashed by my family to actually want to be unwound—and not just by my family, but by my friends, my church, everyone I looked up to. The only voice who spoke sense was my brother Marcus, but I was too blind to hear him until the day I got kidnapped.” “You mean see,” she says, putting a nice speed bump in his way. “Huh?” “Too blind to see him, too deaf to hear him. Get your senses straight. Or maybe you can’t, because you’re senseless.” He smiles. “You’re good.” “And anyway, I don’t need to hear your life story. I already know it. You got caught in a freeway pileup, and the Akron AWOL used you as a human shield—very noble. Then he turned you, like cheese gone bad.” “He didn’t turn me. It was getting away from my tithing, and seeing unwinding for what it is. That’s what turned me.” “Because being a murderer is better than being a tithe, isn’t that right, clapper?” He sits back down again, calmer, and it frustrates her that he is becoming immune to her snipes. “When you live a life without questions, you’re unprepared for the questions when they come,” he says. “You get angry and you totally lack the skills to deal with the anger. So yes, I became a clapper, but only because I was too innocent to know how guilty I was becoming.” ... “You think I’m like you, but I’m not,” Miracolina says. “I’m not part of a religious order that tithes. My parents did it in spite of our beliefs, not because of ii.” “But you were still raised to believe it was your purpose, weren’t you?” “My purpose was to save my brother’s life by being a marrow donor, so my purpose was served before I was six months old.” “And doesn’t that make you angry that the only reason you’re here was to help someone else?” “Not at all,” she says a little too quickly. She purses her lips and leans back in her chair, squirming a bit. The chair feels a little too hard beneath her. “All right, so maybe I do feel angry once in a while, but I understand why they did it. If I were them, I would have done the same thing.” “Agreed,” he says. “But once your purpose was served, shouldn’t your life be your own?” “Miracles are the property of God,” she answers. “No,” he says, “miracles are gifts from God. To calthem his property insults the spirit in which they are given.” She opens her mouth to reply but finds she has no response, because he’s right. Damn him for being right—nothing about him should be right! “We’ll talk again when you’re over yourself,” he says.

Violent Storm" Those who have chosen to pass the night Entertaining friends And intimate ideas in the bright, Commodious rooms of dreams Will not feel the slightest tremor Or be wakened by what seems Only a quirk in the dry run Of conventional weather. For them, The long night sweeping over these trees And houses will have been no more than one In a series whose end Only the nervous or morbid consider. But for us, the wide-awake, who tend To believe the worst is always waiting Around the next corner or hiding in the dry, Unsteady branch of a sick tree, debating Whether or not to fell the passerby, It has a sinister air. How we wish we were sunning ourselves In a world of familiar views And fixed conditions, confined By what we know, and able to refuse Entry to the unaccounted for. For now, Deeper and darker than ever, the night unveils Its dubious plans, and the rain Beats down in gales Against the roof. We sit behind Closed windows, bolted doors, Unsure and ill at ease While the loose, untidy wind, Making an almost human sound, pours Through the open chambers of the trees. We cannot take ourselves or what belongs To us for granted. No longer the exclusive, Last resorts in which we could unwind, Lounging in easy chairs, Recalling the various wrongs We had been done or spared, our rooms Seem suddenly mixed up in our affairs. We do not feel protected By the walls, nor can we hide Before the duplicating presence Of their mirrors, pretending we are the ones who stare From the other side, collected In the glassy air. A cold we never knew invades our bones. We shake as though the storm were going to hurl us down Against the flat stones Of our lives. All other nights Seem pale compared to this, and the brilliant rise Of morning after morning seems unthinkable. Already now the lights That shared our wakefulness are dimming And the dark brushes against our eyes.

After the day’s work, you can just go out to socialize with a few friends and spend some time with them. Talking about your day or how both businesses are moving may be tempting, but as you calm down for the day, put aside ‘’shop talk’’ and concentrate on small talk as you unwind. At

Does she have a name, this woman? If she does, it is known only to a handful of people. The bear knows. He is the only creature of the earth she would call her friend. Between them there is trust, love. Her world is between the dusk light and the dawn light, the time of the moths, of the owls and the bats.

What do I want from life? I wanted to be the woman Luke got pregnant on a rainy day. I wanted to love the dog who’d be his best friend. I was still choosing other people’s dreams and trying to retrofit them as my own. If I was going to find my own answer, I had to make sense of my life. I had to unwind the mess. Starting with the truth. It was time to tell Luke everything.

She unwinds her scarf, taking so long about it that I wonder if she expects me to respond. “You were following the rules,” I offer after a minute. It makes her words no more pleasant. Resentment. Was that how she’d looked at me? Then how am I supposed to trust how she looks at me now? My words elicit a thankful smile. “Mostly, though, I knew you could do the job. Did you ever know other autistic people?” I shake my head. I’d heard rumors about one teacher, but never asked him. Mom had encouraged me to find a local support group, but I’d never seen the appeal—or the need. It wouldn’t change anything. I had friends, anyway. Peopleonline, my fellow volunteers at the Way Station. I even got along with Iris’s friends. “Well, I did, and I feel like a fool for never recognizing your autism. I had autistic colleagues at the university. They were accommodated, and they thrived. One researcher came in earlier than everyone else and would stay the longest. I saw the same strengths in you once I knew to look for them. You’re punctual, you’re precise, you’re trustworthy. When you don’t know something, you either figure it out or you ask, and either way, you get it right. I wanted to give you the same chance my colleagues had, and that other Nassau passengers got. One of the doctors is autistic—did you know?” Els silences an incoming call. “Does that answer your question?

One Day at a Time [Verse] Well, the rooster's crowin', the dawn is breakin' slow, I drag myself outta bed, feelin' kinda low. Coffee's brewin', but it ain't liftin' my soul, Sometimes you wonder, will you make it through the whole. [Chorus] But life's a gift, wrapped in the morning light, Each day means everything's possible, that ain't no slight. You live in the moment, let the worries unwind, Take it easy, friend, one day at a time. [Verse 2] Streets are sleepy, the town’s just wakin’ up, Carryin' burdens, it can all feel too much. But there’s a river of promise, in your own backyard, Just keep movin' forward, though the path may be hard. [Chorus] 'Cause life's a gift, wrapped in the morning light, Each day means everything's possible, that ain't no slight. You live in the moment, let the worries unwind, Take it easy, friend, one day at a time. [Bridge] Every sunset's a chance to start anew, Moonlight whispers, "There's nothing you can't do." Hold onto hope, let tomorrow find its way, Keep the faith in your heart, each and every day. [Verse 3] Neighbors wave from the porch, feeling the same fight, Old song on the radio, makes it all feel right. There's strength in this small town, like an old oak tree, Standing tall through the seasons, so can you and me.

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I felt as though I didn’t fit in with the people of this planet and their values. My priorities had changed, and I found that I was no longer interested in working in an office, reporting to anyone, or earning money for its own sake. I didn’t care to network, go out with friends after work to unwind, deal with morning or evening rush hours, or commute to work in the city. And so for the first time since my NDE, I felt lost…and lonely.

By Anne Kihagi - For Wine Enthusiasts Looking for Off-Beaten Path Ideas- Consider the Town of MurphysSuggested by Anne Kihagi California is known for its numerous vineyards and wineries. Located in Calaveras County, the town of Murphys is situated between Yosemite National Park and Lake Tahoe. It is home to several dozen wineries that operate year-round. Some of the wineries in the town include Indian Rock Vineyards, Mineral Wines Tasting Room, Newsome Harlow, and Courtwood Wine Tasting Tours. The town also offers unique boutique shops, art galleries, and fine dining. You can find items that are new to you at Best Friends Consignment Shop, peruse baseball cards at KCK Collectibles, and sample olive oil at Marisolio Olive Oil Tasting Bar. Unwind after a long day of shopping and wine tasting with dinner at Gabby’s Mexican Cuisine or V Restaurant, Bar, and Bistro. If you have a sweet tooth, visit JoMa’s Artisan Ice Cream or Aria Bakery. A place of interest located near Murphys is Moaning Cavern in Calaveras Trees State Park. It is the largest cavern in the state. If you are a history buff, you will enjoy learning about the town’s origins during the Gold Rush Era. It was started in 1848 by brothers John and Daniel Murphy. Some of the town’s original buildings are still in operation, like the Murphys Historic Hotel and Lodge. It earned a registered historic landmark designation because of the significant figures who once visited it, including Mark Twain and General Ulysses S. Grant.

Even after Wes’s full recovery and the opportunity to unwind on a Fijian surfing safari, the close call seemed to set Steve back emotionally. The devastation of losing his mother and then nearly losing his best friend weighed heavily on his mind. Steve was not worried about his own mortality and was always very open about it. But the recent events only gave him more cause to think about life and death. “I can’t even think of anything happening to you or Bindi,” Steve told me. “I just wouldn’t cope.” Seeing Wes lying in a hospital bed made Steve so emotional. It never ceased to amaze me how tough Steve was on the outside, but how deeply loving he was on the inside. He showed his feelings more than any man I ever met. Years after he lost his dog Chilli to a shooting accident (a local man accidentally killed her while he was hunting pigs), he still mourned. During our nighttime conversations, we spoke at great length about spirituality and belief. Steve’s faith had been tremendously tested. At times he would lash out and blame God, and sometimes he would proclaim that he did not believe in God at all. I knew he was just lashing out, and I’d try to use humor to get him back on track. “You can’t have it both ways,” I would gently remind him. When bad things happened to good people, or when innocent animals experienced human cruelty, it shook Steve to the core. His strong feelings demanded deep spiritual answers, and he searched for them all his life.

The Magic of Fairy Tales: Sparking Imagination and Learning Fairy tales have been an integral part of childhood for centuries, blending adventure, life lessons, and imaginative escapism. Whether reading a short fairy tale before bed or diving into a long fairy tale, these stories entertain, teach, and connect generations. From baby fairy tales to more complex children's fairy tales, there’s something for everyone in the world of fairy tales. Starting with Baby Fairy Tales For young children, baby fairy tales introduce them to the enchanting world of storytelling. These simple, repetitive tales are easy for toddlers to follow. Short fairy tales are ideal for this age group, offering quick narratives that engage without overwhelming. Whether it’s a tale of magical creatures or friendly giants, these stories spark early imagination. Bedtime is a perfect time for these soothing stories, helping children relax before sleep. The Power of Educational Fairy Tales As children grow, educational fairy tales blend entertainment with important life lessons. Aesop’s fairy tales, for example, combine engaging plots with moral teachings. Fables like “The Tortoise and the Hare” or “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” teach patience, honesty, and consequences. These tales, often featuring animals, encourage critical thinking. Aesop's fairy tales are perfect because they are short, making them ideal for young readers or bedtime. Exploring Animal Fairy Tales Another favorite genre is animal fairy tales, where animals take human-like traits and embark on adventures. These stories teach empathy, cooperation, and teamwork. For instance, animals helping each other solve problems or overcome challenges promotes friendship and kindness. Animal fairy tales are especially engaging for young children, who can relate to the characters while learning important values. Fantasy Fairy Tales: Unlocking Imagination Fantasy fairy tales are perhaps the most magical. Filled with dragons, witches, and brave heroes, these tales transport readers into realms where anything is possible. Fantasy stories encourage children to use their imagination and learn about courage and resourcefulness. Famous tales like Cinderella or Snow White offer exciting adventures, teaching life lessons through magical escapism. Cultural Tales: Keloğlan and Heidi Fairy Tales Fairy tales also provide a window into different cultures. Keloğlan fairy tales offer Turkish folklore, with the clever Keloğlan outwitting his adversaries. These tales teach creativity and resilience. Similarly, Heidi's fairy tales bring the Swiss Alps to life, teaching lessons about family, kindness, and nature. Grandfather Scary Stories and Sleep Stories For older children, grandfather scary stories offer thrills and suspense. These stories help children safely face their fears. Meanwhile, sleep fairy tales and sleep stories offer a calming end to the day, assisting children to unwind before bedtime. In conclusion, fairy tales—whether short, long, educational, or fun—spark creativity, teach values, and foster emotional growth. By sharing these stories, we create lasting memories that will inspire future generations.