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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #lip
Age is a timeless beauty. At each mile in my life journey, I am a distinctive blend of what I've experienced and the unique talents I was given to share with others. ↗
#change-your-life #gotospirit-com #jeanne-mcelvaney #life-purpose #old-maggie-s-spirit-whispers
If this constant sliding and hiding of meaning were true of conscious life, then we would of course never be able to speak coherently at all. If the whole of language were present to me when I spoke, then I would not be able to articulate anything at all. The ego, or consciousness, can therefore only work by repressing this turbulent activity, provisionally nailing down words on to meanings. Every now and then a word from the unconscious which I do not want insinuates itself into my discourse, and this is the famous Freudian slip of the tongue or parapraxis. But for Lacan all our discourse is in a sense a slip of the tongue: if the process of language is as slippery and ambiguous as he suggests, we can never mean precisely what we say and never say precisely what we mean. Meaning is always in some sense an approximation, a near-miss, a part-failure, mixing non-sense and non-communication into sense and dialogue. ↗
Energy holds our potential in patterns of intelligence. Self awareness can take us to these shimmering fields so we can manifest our choices ~ Jeanne McElvaney ↗
#change-your-life #gotospirit-com #jeanne-mcelvaney #life-purpose #old-maggie-s-spirit-whispers
Perhaps it was simple reflex, her own instinct for survival. Or perhaps it had been his words, bringing back the horror of her mother's death. But when he reached for the satchel, Adrianne ignored the knife and brought her foot up hard between his legs. The knife clattered to the ground only seconds before he did. "Bastard," she muttered as she sent the knife careening into the dark. "Now your pride's as small as your brain and just as useless." "Well put," Philip said as he came up behind her. ↗
Isabella Swan?” He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes, his golden eyes soft but, somehow, still scorching. “I promise to love you forever—every single day of forever. Will you marry me?” There were many things I wanted to say, some of them not nice at all, and others more disgustingly gooey and romantic than he probably dreamed I was capable of. Rather than embarrass myself with either, I whispered, “Yes.” “Thank you,” he said simply. He took my left hand and kissed each of my fingertips before he kissed the ring that was now mine. ↗
The assumption that you everyone else is like you. That you are the world. The disease of consumer capitalism. The complacent solipsism. ↗
