Vivian Greene Quotes

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...It's about learning to dance in the rain.

Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain.

Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass... It's about learning how to dance in the rain. - Vivian Greene

La vie n'est pas d'attendre que l'orage passe, mais plutôt d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to end, it's about learning do dance in the rain.

Life's not about waiting for the storms to pass...It's about learning to dance in the rain.

LIFE isn't about waiting for the storm to pass,it's about learning to DANCE in the rain.

Life isn’t about waiting for the showers to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” —Vivian Greene

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about learning to dance in the rain.

Life isn't about learning how to weather the storm. It's about learning how to dance in the rain.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, but learning how to dance in the rain.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain...

Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain. - Vivian Greene     Success

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.—Vivian Greene

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass.It's about learning how todance in the rain.

All that is real is seen with the heart.

Look for green lights, not stop signs.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass.It's about learning to dance in the rain.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass... It's about learning to dance in the rain.

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it‘s learning to dance in the rain ☔️

Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning how to dance in the rain.

English as tuppence, changing yet changeless as canal water, nestling in green nowhere, armoured and effete, bold flag-bearer, lotus-fed Miss Havishambling opsimath and eremite, feudal still, reactionary old Badger's Soapbox

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass,It's about learning to dance in the rain.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning how to dance in the rain. -

Nesta didn't care that she was covered in sweat, wearing her leathers amongst a bejewelled crowd. Not as she staggered onto the veranda at the top of the House and gaped at the stars raining across the bowl of the sky. They zoomed by so close some sparked against the stones, leaving glowing dust in their wake. She had a vague sense of Cassian and Mor and Azriel nearby, of Feyre and Rhys and Lucien, of Elain and Varian and Helion. Of Kallias and Viviane, also swollen with child and glowing with joy and strength. Nesta smiled in greeting and left them blinking, but she forgot them within a moment because the stars, the stars, the stars... She hadn't realised that such beauty existed in the world. That she might feel so full from wonder it could hurt, like her body couldn't contain all of it. And she didn't know why she cried then, but the tears began rolling down her face. The world was beautiful, and she was so grateful to be in it. To be alive, to be here, to see this. She stuck out a hand over the railing, grazing a star as it shot past, and her fingers came away glowing with blue and green dust. She laughed, a sound of pure joy, and she cried more, because that joy was a miracle.

I'm sorry.' It was those two words that shattered me. Shattered me in a way I didn't know I could still be broken, a rending of every tether and leash. Stay with the High Lord. The Suriel's last warning. Stay... and live to see everything righted. A lie. A lie, as Rhys had lied to me. Stay with the High Lord. Stay. For there... the torn scraps of the mating bond. Floating on a phantom wind inside me. I grasped at them- tugged at them, as if he'd answer. Stay. Stay, stay, stay. I clung to those scraps and remnants, clawing at the voice that lurked beyond. Stay. I looked up at Tarquin, lip curling back from my teeth. Looked at Helion. And Thesan. And Beon and Kallias, Viviane weeping at his side. And I snarkled, 'Bring him back.' Blank faces. I screamed at them, 'BRING HIM BACK.' Nothing. 'You did it for me,' I said, breathing hard. 'Now do it for him.' 'You were human,' Helion said carefully. 'It is not the same-' 'I don't care. Do it.' When they didn't move, I rallied the dregs of my power, readying to rip into their minds and force them, not caring what rules or laws it broke. I wouldn't care, only if- Tarquin stepped forward. He slowly extended his hand toward me. 'For what he gave,' Tarquin said quietly. 'Today and for many years before.' And as the seed of light appeared in his palm... I began crying again. Watched it drop onto Rhys's bare throat and vanish onto the skin beneath, an echo of light flaring once. Helion stepped forward. That kernel of light in his hand flickered as it fell onto Rhys's skin. Then Kallias. And Thesan. Until only Beron stood there. Mor drew her sword and laid it on his throat. He jerked, having not seen her move. 'I do not mind making one more kill today,' she said. Beron gave her a withering glare, but shoved off the sword and strode forward. He practically chucked that fleck of light onto Rhys. I didn't care about that, either. I didn't know the spell, the power it came from. But I was High Lady. I held out my palm. Willing the spark of life to appear. Nothing happened. I took a steadying breath, remembering how it had looked. 'Tell me how,' I growled to no one. Thesan coughed and stepped forward. Explaining the core of power and on and on and I didn't care, but I listened, until- There. Small as a sunflower seed, it appeared in my palm. A bit of me- my life. I laid it gently on Rhys's blood-crusted throat. And I realised, just as he appeared, what was missing. Tamlin stood there, summoned by either the death of a fellow High Lord or one of the others around me. He was splattered in mud and gore, his new bandolier of knives mostly empty. He studied Rhys, lifeless before me. Studied all of us- the palms still out. There was no kindness on his face. No mercy. 'Please,' was all I said to him. Then Tamlin glanced between us- me and my mate. His face did not change. 'Please,' I wept. 'I will- I will give you anything-' Something shifted in his eyes at that. But not kindness. No emotion at all. I laid my head on Rhysand's chest, listening for any kind of heartbeat through that armour. 'Anything,' I breathed to no one in particular. 'Anything.' Steps scuffed on the rocky ground. I braced myself for another set of hands trying to pull me away, and dug my fingers in harder. The steps remained behind me for long enough that I looked. Tamlin stood there. Staring down at me. Those green eyes swimming with some emotion I couldn't place. 'Be happy, Feyre,' he said quietly. And dropped that final kernel of light onto Rhysand.

Saturday afternoon she deboned chicken breasts and put the raw meat aside; then she simmered the bones with green onions and squashed garlic and ginger. She mixed ground pork with diced water chestnuts and green onions and soy sauce and sherry, stuffed the wonton skins with this mixture, and froze them to be boiled the next day. Then she made the stuffing for Richard's favorite egg rolls. It was poor menu planning- Vivian would never have served wontons and egg rolls at the same meal- but she felt sorry for Richard, living on hot dogs as he'd been. Anyway they all liked her egg rolls, even Aunt Barbara. Sunday morning she stayed home from church and started the tea eggs simmering (another source of soy sauce for Annie). She slivered the raw chicken breast left from yesterday- dangling the occasional tidbit for J.C., who sat on her stool and cried "Yeow!" whenever she felt neglected- and slivered carrots and bamboo shoots and Napa cabbage and more green onions and set it all aside to stir-fry at the last minute with rice stick noodles. This was her favorite dish, simple though it was, and Aunt Rubina's favorite; it had been Vivian's favorite of Olivia's recipes, too. (Vivian had never dabbled much in Chinese cooking herself.) Then she sliced the beef and asparagus and chopped the fermented black beans for her father's favorite dish.

Well into my teaching career, I learned that good and bad play are usually a matter of having a script that works or one that needs to be rewritten. Once you begin to depend on storytelling and story acting, you start looking at your classrooms as theater. The children are constantly imagining characters and plots and, when they have a chance, with each other, acting out little stories. You can look at the children and yourself as actors. "Well, this hasn't worked. We'd better think of a better way to pretend this story." What seems to be a chaotic scene, one we might call bad play, is simply a scene that lacks closure for one or more characters. The teacher's role is to help the children make up a new scene. The children become used to the teachers - or even other children - saying, "This isn't working. We need to tell the story of what were doing with each other. What characters are we playing? And what needs to be played in a different way so that the play does not have to stop?" (via a Meghan Dombrick-Green interview with Vivian Paley 2001)

The passage of time teaches us that life isn’t just about waiting for storms to pass, it’s also about learning to dance in the rain.

Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain. - Vivian Greene

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain. ~Vivian Greene

I don’t know who’s more upset with me—T.J. or Sean. T.J., because there’s another man in his territory, a man he didn’t know existed. Or Sean, because he thought he got his girl back, and he got a lot more than he bargained for.” “Well, I’m sure you had your reasons…” Viv said. “That’s just it—I had no sense of reason at all! I swear, all that man has to do is…” “I’m okay with not knowing those details,” Vivian said. Then she fanned her face with her hand. “I don’t know how it’s going to shake out,” Franci said. “I’ll work with Sean the best I can. I’ll give him time to think first. He made a point—he just found out I was pregnant while staring into the green Riordan eyes of a three-and-a-half-year-old.” Once

La vida no se trata de esperar a que pase la tormenta, sino de aprender a bailar bajo la lluvia. VIVIAN GREENE, NOVELISTA 23 MAYO

viv·i·an·ite  n. a mineral consisting of a phosphate of iron that occurs as a secondary mineral in ore deposits. It is colorless when fresh but becomes blue or green with oxidization.  early 19th cent.: named after John H. Vivian (1785-1855), British mineralogist, + -ITE1.

That night, Beansprout dreamt of Vivian and the large bronze boat with the dragon-headed prow coming to take Arthur to Avalon, in the same way as Vivian had taken Tom to wake the King.

Molly’s been surprised to find that she looks forward to it. Ninety-one years is a long time to live—there’s a lot of history in those boxes, and she never knows what she’ll find. The other day, for example, they went through a box of Christmas ornaments from the 1930s that Vivian had forgotten she’d kept. Cardboard stars and snowflakes covered in gold and silver glitter; ornate glass balls, red and green and gold. Vivian told her stories about decorating the family store for the holidays, putting these ornaments on a real pine tree in the window.

Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass. But Learning how to dance in the rain.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning how to dance in the rain. - Vivian Greene -

Hidup ini bukan tentang menunggu badai berlalu, tapi tentang belajar menari di tengah hujan.

Hidup bukan tentang menunggu badai berlalu, tapi tentang belajar bagaimana berdansa di hujan.

Hidup bukan tentang menunggu badai berlalu, tapi tentang belajar bagaimana berdansa di hujan.

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain.

Life's not about waiting for the storm to pass... It's about learning to dance in the rain.

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It is about learning to dancing in the rain

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning how to dance in the rain

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about dancing in the rain.

Vivian Weaver took us from pot to pot in her kitchen, lifting lids, stirring and tasting as she went along. There was seafood gumbo, fried fish and fried chicken, dumplings, butter biscuits, cornbread, fried okra, black-eyed peas, green beans, and bread pudding.

The Rivière Secrète was no longer a secret. Two riverbanks, covered in wild grapevines and Black Willows, had emerged from the muck of the Marais Foncé. The bateau dipped and bobbed, and Monsieur Lavelle poled hard to keep us steady as the river, pale green and foaming white, hummed toward us. I licked its cold sweet spray from my lips, my body throbbing with excitement. Anton was moments away." The Marquise Jeanne Reneau, The Last Lord of Paradise––Generation One

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass. It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” —VIVIAN GREENE

Do you have any quotes you live your life by or think of often? “Life is not waiting for the storm to pass, it’s learning how to dance in the rain” [adapted from Vivian Greene]. Five-Monkey

Life is not about waiting for the storms to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain. -Vivian Greene