Odd, the words: ‘while away the time’.How to hold it fast the harder thing.Who is not fearful: where is there a staying,where in all this is there any being?Look, as the day slows towards the spacethat draws it into dusk: rising becameupstanding, standing a laying down, and thenthat which accepts its lying blurs to darkness.Mountains rest, outgloried be the stars -but even there, time’s transition glimmers.Ah, nightly refuged in my wild heart,roofless, the imperishable lingers.---Wunderliches Wort: die Zeit vertreiben!Sie zu halten, wäre das Problem.Denn, wen ängstigts nicht: wo ist ein Bleiben,wo ein endlich Sein in alledem? -Sieh, der Tag verlangsamt sich, entgegenjenem Raum, der ihn nach Abend nimmt:Aufstehn wurde Stehn, und Stehn wird Legen,und das willig Liegende verschwimmt -Berge ruhn, von Sternen überprächtigt; -aber auch in ihnen flimmert Zeit.Ach, in meinem wilden Herzen nächtigtobdachlos die Unvergänglichkeit.

Colour outside the lines, live outside the box. Don’t let anyone tell you what to do, or not. Don’t be afraid, listen to your heart.Heaven is a state of being – of one-ness, and Hell is a state of being – lost. We simply need to live as we best define ourselves, find our own ways of being who we are in our world. There is no requirement - only freedom of choice. We should not be judged if we are doing what we think best according to our perceptions at any given time.Guilt should be discarded, moved beyond - what matters is who we choose to be in the next moment, given what we might have learned. We continually create ourselves anew.Forgiving someone is a great way to show love, and forgive yourself too for the hurt you held onto far too long.Take back the energy you have wasted on these things and reclaim your power to be your next best self.Honour the past but refresh, expand, renew, fulfill. Heaven is within us, always reachable.

Termite, you're young, and I'm not sure if you're going to understand what I'm about to say, but here's the nugget: Without the heart, nothing else matters. She could be the Goddess of Love, you could have all the mind-blowing sex you could physically handle, but when the shooting is over, and you're starting to think about getting a bite to eat, smoking a cigarette, or what you do with her now, you're just lying in bed with a woman who means little more to you than the remote control for your TV. Love is not tool; neither is a woman's heart. What I'm talking about, you won't find in that magazine.""How would you know? You just said you've only loved one woman. I think you need to test-drive a few cars before you buy one.""You can buy that lie if you want, but if you're working for a bank, you don't study the counterfeit to know the real thing. You study the real thing to know the counterfeit."Reese talking to Termite, pg. 109-110

All they told me was that he was forty-two when he died. I just wanted...to find out more about what kind of person he was.I could tell you more, amanda thought to herself. A lot more. She'd suspected the truth since Morgan Tanner had called, and she'd made some calls to confirm her suspicions. Dawson, she'd learned, had been taking off life support at CarolinaEast Regional Medical Center late Monday night. He's been kept alive long after doctors knew he would never recover, because he was an organ donor.Dawson, she knews, had saved Alan's life-but in the end, he'd saved Jared's as well. And for that meant...everything. I gave you the best of me, he'd told her once, and with every beat of her son's heart, she knew he'd done exactly that. How about a quick hug," she said, "before we go inside?" Jared rolled his eyes, but he opened his arms anyway. "I love you, Mom," he mumbled, pulling her close. Amanda closed her eyes, feeling the steady rhythm in his chest. "I love you, too.

She lost her gripHeard a voice so familiar, she trippedOver the 1000 promises that lay on the floor1000 and 1…there’s hardly room for moreAnd everyone seems to know betterEveryone seems to understand so much…but forget herMisplace the fact that she’s well awareShe knows every line, can count every hairShe’s a master at the gameAnd losing, no matter how many times done, is always the sameWhat if for once…she’s done with the romanceThe kindnessWhat if for once…she just doesn’t want to danceAnd would prefer to just sink into the darkness that his her roomBe that one rare flower that through adversity did bloomThe rare blossom that had no need for love…no need for sunA trend in the making…a grand story is to comeFrom this porcelain masked mess The infamous damsel in distressA princess who traded in her dressAnd gave no more attention to love, but sought something lessSomething less likely to promise something moreFor she had already 1000 on the floo

هل نستطيع ، نحن الذين غير جديرين بالكلمة، أن نكون جديرين بالاستماع فقط! كلّ قول هو أمر ضروري و الاستماع أيضاً. لكني أرى الأختام على الأذنين، على القلوب، على الأفواه، أرى الأختام. الرعب .

When we were little, Scarlett and I were utterly convinced that we'd originally been one person in our mother's belly. We believed that somehow, half of us wanted to be born and half wanted to stay. So our heart had to be broken in two so that Scarlett could be born first, and then I finally braved the outside world a few years later. It made sense, in our pig-tailed heads--it explained why, when we ran through grass or danced or spun in circle long enough, we would lose track of who was who and it started to feel as if there were some organic, elegant link between us, our single heart holding the same tempo and pumping the same blood. That was before the attack, though. Now our hearts link only when we're hunting, when Scarlett looks at me with a sort of beautiful excitement that's more powerful than her scars and then tears after a Fenris as though her life depends on its death. I follow, always, because it's the only time when our hearts beat in perfect harmony, the only time when I'm certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are one person broken in two.

That’s enough feeling for a while nowHands shaking, sweat dripping from his browHe eyed the narrow closet doorThe monster in it asking him to feel moreTill he learned to not hearTo stay away and not go nearTo the heart that was locked insideChained down with the steel that was his prideHe was left to the silence that runs somewhere in-between morning and nightWrapped himself in darkness, tucked himself up tightHoping she would somehow find a way inBy the hairs on his chiny chin chinThrough the dreams he could remember notFor it was less disappointing if he forgotThat yet another night She didn’t fightShe accepted the lockMade no attempt to knockShe just didn’t see his needDidn’t dress his wounds from the nights he’d bleedIt’s silly really, all he wanted was a band-aidFor her to see he was dismayedAnd sit with him through silence that runs somewhere in-between morning and nightOpen the shades and let in some much needed lightOr just try…Not just accept it and walk bySay something comforting and wittyJust for once, try to shake him from his ridiculous self-pity

It is not many things that modern psychology agress upon, but all the different approaches of psychology agrees on one thing: that people in groups become more stupid. Individually people are more intelligent, because they have to take their own responsibility, but in a group they do not have to take the same responsibility. The two basic power strategies to try to manipulate and gain control over another person are: silencing and attacking. Silencing means to not listen to, to exclude or ignore and not respect a person. Attack can both mean to attack a person directly or to try to discredit a person through lies, to ridicule a person or by spreading malicious rumours. All organizations are more or less dysfunctional. In a dysfunctional group, the members of the group play three different roles: agressor, denier and victim. The agressor is the role that attack and ridicule people, the denier never knows what is going on, there is “no body at home”, and the victim is the resultat of these two roles. It is always easier to follow a group without awareness, than to follow your own heart, to trust your own intelligence, love, truth, silence and creativity.

There are always lone hearth-fires; so many! And those who sit beside them, with the empty chair, cannot restrain the tears that will come. One sits alone so much. There is some One unseen, just here within reach. But somehow we don't realize His presence. Realizing is blessed, but--rare. It belongs to the mood, to the feelings. It is dependent on weather conditions and bodily conditions. The rain, the heavy fog outside, the poor sleep, the twinging pain, these make one's mood so much, they seem to blur out the realizing.But there is something a little higher up than realizing. It is yet more blessed. It is independent of these outer conditions, it is something that abides. It is this: recognizing that Presence unseen, so wondrous and quieting, so soothing and calming and warming. Recognize His presence--the Master's own. He is here, close by; His presence is real. Recognizing will help realizing, too, but it never depends on it.Aye, more, immensely more, the Truth is a Presence, not a thing, a fact, a statement. Some One is present, a warm-hearted Friend, an all-powerful Lord. And this is the joyful truth for weeping hearts everywhere, whatever be the hand that has drawn the tears; by whatever stream it be that your weeping willow is planted.

Ο θυμός άλλο πράμα. Ο άνθρωπος κοκκινίζει, φωνάζει, κάνει, χτυπιέται και ξεθυμαίνει. Ουφ! Η χολή άλλο. Αυτή καθίζει μέσα στα σωθικά, συμμαζεύεται στην καρδιά του ανθρώπου, τήνε κιτρινίζει, σα φλερόνι και τήνε σαπίζει!... Να τι κερδίζει ένας που χολεύεται...

Murphy. Sina mbinu zozote za kujikinga kama unavyojua; mbali na mafunzo ya FBI. Baada ya kumrusha nyoka wa Lisa nywele zilinisisimka. Wazo la kukimbia likaja ghafla. Kukimbia hata hivyo nikashindwa kwa kuhofu huenda wangeniona. Hivyo, nikarudi nyuma ya nyumba na kupanda mti na kujificha huko. Bunduki zilipolia, nilijua wamekuua. Ila kitu kimoja kikanishangaza: mashambulizi hayakuonekana kukoma. Kitu hicho kikanipa nguvu kwamba huenda hujafa na ulikuwa ukipambana nao. Kimya kilipotokea nilijua umewashinda nguvu, kitu ambacho kumbe kilikuwa kweli. Nilipokutafuta baadaye lakini bila kukuona kutokana na kukurukakara za maadui niliamua kwenda katika gari ili nije na gari kama mgeni, nikitegemea waniruhusu kuingia ili nipate hakika kama wamekuua au bado uko hai. Wasingenifanya chochote. Kimaajabu, niliposhuka katika mti ili nikimbie katika gari, niliona gari ikija kwa kasi. Kuangalia vizuri nikakuta ni Ferrari, halafu nikashangaa nani anaendesha gari ya Lisa!”Murphy alitabasamu tena na kuendelea kusikiliza.“Sijui moyo wangu ulikuwaje. Sikuogopa tena! Badala yake nilikaza mwendo na kuendelea kuifuata huku nikipata wazo hapohapo kwamba mtu aliyekuwemo akiendesha hakuwa adui. Adui angeingia katika gari na kunisubiri aniteke nyara.” Debbie alitulia.“Ulihisi ni mimi?” Murphy aliuliza.“Nilihisi ni mtu tu mwema amekuja kunisaidia ... au mwizi wa gari. Hata hivyo, baadaye nilijua ni wewe na furaha yangu yote ilirudi.

It’s clear that if we use the mind attentively, mental power is increased, and if we concentrate the mind in the moment, it is easier to coordinate mind and body. But in terms of mind and body unity, is there something we can concentrate on that will reliably aid us in discovering this state of coordination? In Japan, and to some degree other Asian countries, people have historically focused mental strength in the hara (abdomen) as a way of realizing their full potential. Japan has traditionally viewed the hara as the vital center of humanity in a manner not dissimilar to the Western view of the heart or brain. I once read that years ago Japanese children were asked to point to the origin of thoughts and feelings. They inevitably pointed toward the abdominal region. When the same question was asked of American children, most pointed at their heads or hearts. Likewise, Japan and the West have commonly held differing views of what is physical power or physical health, with Japan emphasizing the strength of the waist and lower body and Western people admiring upper body power. (Consider the ideal of the sumo wrestler versus the V-shaped Western bodybuilder with a narrow waist and broad shoulders.)However, East and West also hold similar viewpoints regarding the hara, and we’re perhaps not as dissimilar as some might imagine. For instance, hara ga nai hito describes a cowardly person, “a person with no hara.” Sounds similar to our saying that so-and-so “has no guts,” doesn’t it?

In this here place, we flesh; flesh that weeps, laughs; flesh that dances on bare feet in grass. Love it. Love it hard. Yonder they do not love your flesh. They despise it. They don't love your eyes; they'd just as soon pick em out. No more do they love the skin on your back. Yonder they flay it. And O my people they do not love your hands. Those they only use, tie, bind, chop off and leave empty. Love your hands! Love them. Raise them up and kiss them. Touch others with them, pat them together, stroke them on your face 'cause they don't love that either. You got to love it, you! And no, they ain't in love with your mouth. Yonder, out there, they will see it broken and break it again. What you say out of it they will not heed. What you scream from it they do not hear. What you put into it to nourish your body they will snatch away and give you leavins instead. No, they don't love your mouth. You got to love it. This is flesh I'm talking about here. Flesh that needs to be loved. Feet that need to rest and to dance; backs that need support; shoulders that need arms, strong arms I'm telling you. And O my people, out yonder, hear me, they do not love your neck unnoosed and straight. So love your neck; put a hand on it, grace it, stroke it and hold it up. and all your inside parts that they'd just as soon slop for hogs, you got to love them. The dark, dark liver--love it, love it and the beat and beating heart, love that too. More than eyes or feet. More than lungs that have yet to draw free air. More than your life-holding womb and your life-giving private parts, hear me now, love your heart. For this is the prize.

মম চিত্তে নিতি নৃত্যে কে যে নাচেতাতা থৈথৈ, তাতা থৈথৈ, তাতা থৈথৈ।তারি সঙ্গে কী মৃদঙ্গে সদা বাজেতাতা থৈথৈ তাতা থৈথৈ তাতা থৈথৈ॥হাসিকান্না হীরাপান্না দোলে ভালে,কাঁপে ছন্দে ভালোমন্দ তালে তালে,নাচে জন্ম নাচে মৃত্যু পাছে পাছে,তাতা থৈথৈ, তাতা থৈথৈ, তাতা থৈথৈ।কী আনন্দ, কী আনন্দ, কী আনন্দদিবারাত্রি নাচে মুক্তি নাচে বন্ধ--সে তরঙ্গে ছুটি রঙ্গে পাছে পাছেতাতা থৈথৈ, তাতা থৈথৈ, তাতা থৈথৈ॥