Querem muitos que o tempo passe, depressa, depressa, e um dia descobrem que o tempo os devorou, sorna e galanteador, nessa luta desigual entre o finito de cada um e o infinito do mundo onde temos a ilusão de mandar no tempo, talvez porque damos corda aos relógios e decidimos se a hora atrasa ou adianta.
You’ve said life is a series of choices, but I think it’s also a series of opportunities, a series of lessons, a series of moments all strung together that loops around into a lifetime—it’s a lifetime of moments. Every decision, every person that has entered my life, has shaped who I am today.
This world is my home this world is my office this world is my playground and everyone in this world is my friend, there is no other world I know so I will experience and explore this world to the hilt and evolve with every experience and MickeyMize my life! Please share this to make this vibrant world our only heaven.
Our Universe is a multidimensional one; every individual life unit consciously functions in a particular vibratory level (dimension or density) but unconsciously/ subconsciously functions in and through all the other levels, and as the awareness increases it moves to the conscious existence of the next immediate level.
With my sort of book there's no resolution, because there's no solution. The problems aren't answered in the end because there is no answer. They're problems that are handed on to the reader, not solved for him so that he can go away thinking he lives in a beautiful world. It's not a beautiful world.
With my sort of book there's no resolution, because there's no solution. The problems aren't answered in the end because there is no answer. They're problems that are handed on to the reader, not solved for him so that he can do away thinking he lives in a beautiful world. It's not a beautiful world.
Pride & honor & truth & virtue & kindliness," he enumerated silkily. "You are right, Scarlett. They aren't important when a boat is sinking. But look around you at your friends. Either they are bringing their boats ashore safely with cargoes intact or they are content to go down with all flags flying.
Ishmael was looking at him through narrowed eyes. “This is very important to you, this box.”“It’s important to the world.”Ishmael said: “The sun rises, and the sun sets. Sometimes it rains. We live, then we die.” He shrugged.He would never understand, Wolff thought; but others would.
Even if you don't want to move to the next chapter, life and time will open the next chapter anyway. The question is how painful or joyful you want the transition to be. So let go of the old chapter and embrace the new because the page will turn anyway. Continuous transformation is the secret of a soulfully successful life.
In the depths of his tiredness,surrounded by these blank, sheep-likevisages, he found himself ponderingthe accidents that had brought all ofthem into being. Every birth was,viewed properly, mere chance. With ahundred million sperm swimmingblindly through the darkness, the oddsagainst a person becoming themselveswere staggering.
Life is but a journey,if relationship and money are the passengers of that very train leading towards your destination,One thing to be kept in mind is former is far superior to achieve than the latter,Remember that latter lies even with a beggar(not by virtue of money but people) who does not realize the true value of the forme
El noventa y siete por ciento de las mujeres, en algunas sociedades modernas, no se sienten bellas. Por eso, en cada tienda de ropa y en cada etiqueta, debería haber una leyenda semejante a la advertencia contra el tabaco con frases como ésta: «Toda mujer es bella. La belleza no puede ser estandarizada».
Since I'm a novelist I'm the opposite of you - I believe that what's most important is what cannot be measured. I'm not denying your way of thinking, but the greater part of people's lives consist of things that are unmeasurable, and trying to change all these to something measurable is realistically impossible.
If thou has passion for faith thou dost preach Regard for God whose mercy thou beseechLove for the soil out of which thou art bornWhy dost thou slay thy brethren, held in scorn?The land on which I was born is not mineThat giveth bread and roof is mine and thineAnd few yards of soil for grave benignWe are sons of this lovely earth divine
