Well Deserved Recognition Quotes

You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give. For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow? And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city? And what is fear of need but need itself? Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, the thirst that is unquenchable? There are those who give little of the much which they have--and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome. And there are those who have little and give it all. These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty. There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward. And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism. And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue; They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space. Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth. It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding; And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving. And is there aught you would withhold? All you have shall some day be given; Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors'. You often say, "I would give, but only to the deserving." The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish. Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights, is worthy of all else from you. And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream. And what desert greater shall there be, than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving? And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed? See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving. For in truth it is life that gives unto life while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness. And you receivers... and you are all receivers... assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives. Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings; For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the freehearted earth for mother, and God for father.

For Zuk and the other woman boycotters, this endeavor was not about escaping the confines of being working class, but about protecting the rights of the working class. What this strategy innately relies on is the foremost recognition that poor and working-class people have and deserve rights in the first place—and aren’t plagues on society who are lazy, unwilling to apply themselves, or should, through some elaborate matrix and suspension of systemic blockades, simply not be working class. Existing in this socioeconomic bracket with these intrinsic financial realities was a legitimate life, across their families as well as their neighbors. And this communal approach to understanding their needs and successes was anchored deeply in protecting food prices for everyone rather than reverse engineering their individual lives to accommodate the price hike.

My Death If I’m lucky, I’ll be wired every whichway in a hospital bed. Tubes running into my nose. But try not to be scared of me, friends! I’m telling you right now that this is okay. It’s little enough to ask for at the end. Someone, I hope, will have phoned everyone to say, “Come quick, he’s failing!” And they will come. And there will be time for me to bid goodbye to each of my loved ones. If I’m lucky, they’ll step forward and I’ll be able to see them one last time and take that memory with me. Sure, they might lay eyes on me and want to run away and howl. But instead, since they love me, they’ll lift my hand and say “Courage” or “It’s going to be all right.” And they’re right. It is all right. It’s just fine. If you only knew how happy you’ve made me! I just hope my luck holds, and I can make some sign of recognition. Open and close my eyes as if to say, “Yes, I hear you. I understand you.” I may even manage something like this: “I love you too. Be happy.” I hope so! But I don’t want to ask for too much. If I’m unlucky, as I deserve, well, I’ll just drop over, like that, without any chance for farewell, or to press anyone’s hand. Or say how much I cared for you and enjoyed your company all these years. In any case, try not to mourn for me too much. I want you to know I was happy when I was here. And remember I told you this a while ago—April 1984. But be glad for me if I can die in the presence of friends and family. If this happens, believe me, I came out ahead. I didn’t lose this one.

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ADDICTIVE VOICE RECOGNITION Another thing that Belle’s blog taught me: to separate out the voice in my head that told me, ‘it would be a fabulous idea to have a drink’, and ‘what about now?’ That told me that I deserved it. Or that I was entitled to it. Or that I was a piece of crap loser, so I may as well drink.

Feeling overwhelmed and maybe a bit underappreciated, we moms gravitate toward the insistence of well-meaning mom-fluencers who tell us what we “deserve”—we “deserve” a break. Praise. Recognition. To take our lives back and to remember that we’re more than just a mother. We’re told we deserve to be “authentic” selves by reclaiming “autonomy” over our lives and taking back the identity we had before we became moms. There’s some truth in these assurances. We do need a break. It would be nice for our husbands to acknowledge our hard work. We do have roles in addition to being a mom. But the deceptive premise in each of them is that we’re entitled to a tangible reward for simply doing our job. In that way, motherhood is subtly depicted as something that happened to us rather than something we chose and that God graciously gave us.

She’s been involved in politics for the last few years, though,” A.Z. mused. “Makes for strange bedfellows.” A vision of Anderson in his red bikini briefs flared briefly in Lillian’s mind. “You can say that again.” “We’ll replace the camera, A.Z,” Gabe said. “In the meantime, you have our full report. The bottom line is that there was no sign of heavy-duty lab equipment in the new wing and we found no evidence of frozen extra-terrestrials. If those alien bodies were moved into the institute, they’ve got them well-hidden.” “Figures,” Arizona nodded sagely. “Should’ve known it wouldn’t be this easy. We’ll just have to keep digging. Maybe literally, if they’ve hidden the lab underground.” “A scary thought,” Lillian murmured. “My work will continue,” Arizona assured them. “Meanwhile, thanks for the undercover job. Couldn’t have done it without you. Unfortunately, you’ll never get the public recognition you deserve because we have to maintain secrecy.” “We understand,” Gabe said. Arizona nodded. “But I want you to understand your names will be legend among the ranks of those of us who seek the truth about this vast conspiracy.” “That’s certainly good enough for me,” Lillian said quickly. “How about you, Gabe?” “Always wanted to be a legend in my own time,” Gabe said. “We don’t want any public recognition,” Lillian added, eager to emphasize the point. “Just knowing that we did our patriotic duty is all the reward we need. Isn’t that right, Gabe?” “Right,” Gabe got to his feet. “Publicity would be a disaster. If our identities as secret agents were exposed, it would ruin any chance of us helping you out with future undercover work.” Lillian was almost to the door. “Wouldn’t want that.” “True,” Arizona said. “Never known when we might have to call on you two again.

New York's bad manners are often condemned and often very deservedly. Even though the cause is carelessness rather than intentional indifference, the indifference is no less actual and the rudeness inexcusable. It is by no means unheard of that after sitting at table next to the guest of honor, a New Yorker will meet her the next day with utter unrecognition. Not because the New Yorker means to "cut" the stranger or feels the slightest unwillingness to continue the acquaintance, but because few New Yorkers possess enthusiasm enough to make an effort to remember all the new faces they come in contact with, but allow all those who are not especially "fixed" in their attention, to drift easily out of mind and recognition. It is mortifyingly true; no one is so ignorantly indifferent to everything outside his or her own personal concern as the socially fashionable New Yorker, unless it is the Londoner!

As soon as Christopher and Albert stepped up to the dais, he was disconcerted to hear a cheer rising from the crowd, spreading and growing until the noise was deafening. It wasn’t right for him to receive more acclamation than the other soldiers--they deserved just as much recognition for their courage and gallantry. And yet the ranks were cheering as well, humbling him utterly. Albert looked up at him uneasily, staying close to his side. “Easy, boy,” he murmured. The queen regarded the pair of them curiously as they stopped before her. “Captain Phelan,” she said. “Our subjects’ enthusiasm does you honor.” Christopher replied carefully. “The honor belongs to all the soldiers who have fought in Your Majesty’s service--and to the families who waited for them to return.” “Well and modestly said, Captain.” There was a slight deepening of the creases at the corners of her eyes. “Come forward.” As he complied, the queen leaned from the horse to pin the bronze cross with its crimson ribbon to his coat. Christopher made to withdraw, but she stopped him with a gesture and a word. “Remain.” Her attention switched to Albert, who sat on the dais and cocked his head as he regarded her curiously. “What is your companion’s name?” “His name is Albert, Your Majesty.” Her lips quirked as if she were tempted to smile. She slid a brief glance to her left, at the prince consort. “We are informed that he campaigned with you at Inkerman and Sebastopol.” “Yes, Your Majesty. He performed many difficult and dangerous duties to keep the men safe. This cross belongs partly to him--he assisted in recovering a wounded officer under enemy fire.” The general charged with handing the orders to the queen approached and gave her a curious object. It looked like…a dog collar? “Come forward, Albert,” she said. Albert obeyed promptly, sitting at the edge of the dais. The queen reached over and fastened the collar around his neck with a deft efficiency that revealed some experience with the procedure. Christopher recalled having heard that she owned several dogs and was partial to collies. “This collar,” she said to Albert, as if he could understand her, “has been engraved with regimental distinctions and battle honors. We have added a silver clasp to commend the valor and devotion you have displayed in our service.” Albert waited patiently until the collar was fastened, and then licked her wrist. “Impertinent,” she scolded in a whisper, and patted his head. And she sent a brief, discreet smile to Christopher as they left to make way for the next recipient.

But whatever the exact psychology of the process {receiving recognition or literary success}, the present has a way of contaminating the past. And the writing will change accordingly. Turmoil and dilemma once experienced with a certain desperation may be seen more complacently as the writer reflects that through expressing them he has realized his inevitable and well-deserved triumph. The lean years of patient toil when no one paid attention may even begin to seem preferable to the present. The very thing you created in the heat of fierce concentration has destroyed the circumstances that made it possible. The writer is devoured along with his books.

To Birch,” Hoover said and grimaced after the sip. “He knew the game, Duke. He wasn’t going to blow his cover, even to you. He was smart and the man could handle himself.” ​“The hole in his chest tells a different story. He never saw it coming. Rosch played him like a fiddle. She played us all,” Duke said as he took another swig. ​“He doesn’t have any family. The man was married to the job. We’ll make sure he gets the recognition he deserves and a plot in Arlington,” Hoover said.

Education for free people is powered by that precious and fragile ideal: every human being is of infinite and incalculable value, each a work-in-progress and a force-in-motion, a unique intellectual, emotional, physical, spiritual, moral, and creative agent, each endowed with reason and conscience, each deserving a dedicated place in a community of solidarity as well as a vital sense of brotherhood and sisterhood, recognition and respect.

Surely . . . Judaism is more than the history of anti-semitism. Surely Jews deserve to be defined—and are in fact defined, by others as well as by themselves—by those qualities of faith, lineage, sacred texts and moral teachings that have enabled them to endure through centuries of persecution. —GERTRUDE HIMMELFARB1 In many spheres of life, Jews have made contributions that are far larger than might be expected from their numbers. Jews constitute 0.2% of the world’s population, but won 14% of Nobel Prizes in the first half of the 20th century, despite social discrimination and the Holocaust, and 29% in the second. As of 2007, Jews had won an amazing 32% of Nobel Prizes awarded in the 21st century.2 Jews have excelled not only in science but also in music (Mendelssohn, Mahler, Schoenberg), in painting (Pissarro, Modigliani, Rothko), and in philosophy (Maimonides, Bergson, Wittgenstein). Jewish authors have won the Nobel Prize in Literature for writing in English, French, German, Russian, Polish, Hungarian, Yiddish and Hebrew.3 Such achievement requires an explanation, and an interesting possibility is that Jews have adapted genetically to a way of life that requires higher than usual cognitive capacity. People are highly imitative, and if the Jewish advantage were purely cultural, such as hectoring mothers or a special devotion to education, there would be little to prevent others from copying it. Instead, given the new recognition of human evolution in the historical past, it is possible that Jewish intellectual achievement has emerged from some pressure in their special history. Just as races have evolved in the recent past, ethnicities within races will also evolve if they are reproductively isolated to some extent from their host population, whether by geography or religion. The adaptation of Jews to a special cognitive niche, if indeed this has been an evolutionary process, as is argued below, represents a striking example of natural selection’s ability to change a human population in just a few centuries.

Congratulations. Every recognition is well deserved. I appreciate all that you are and all that you do. I truly hope one day there will be a chance to express the expanse and depth of our sky. Mere words could never enlighten its beauty. Some things must be shown; to be experienced by all the senses. Only then would we feel, would our eyes open to the full brilliance of the eternal light carried within our stars, and inset everlasting warmth. For decades the keys of mine were lost...and then found. Music is a window to our mood. It is well to know about it whether it's good, bad, or ugly.