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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #rational
-The Wallflower A wall flower at a dance is not always a wall flower everywhere. We all have our areas of expertise and our areas of inability or inexperience. The problem is that many people become wallflowers in too many areas of their lives because they have given things a try and felt foolish in the end. And because no one likes to appear foolish many decide that it is better to simply blend in. “If I don’t do anything different, I won’t ever look foolish,” the reason, “No one will laugh at me or tease me.” Why are we so concerned about what our peers think of what we are doing, wearing, or saying??? One of my favorite quotes is by Earl Nightingale. He said, “You wouldn’t worry so much about what other people thought of you if you only realized how little they do.” Exactly. Most people are too worried about themselves to really care about what you are doing! And for those who can put on blinders and remain oblivious to the possible embarrassment of total failure, it is usually cheers – and not jeers – that await them. ↗
لقد أصبحت الآن فى سلام مع الله، أؤمن بأن كل إضافة إلى خبرة الإنسانية أو ذكائها أو حساسيتها هى خطوة نحو الكمال ، أو هى خطوة نحو الله ، و أؤمن بأن غاية الوجود هى تغلب الخير على الشر من خلال صراع طويل مرير ، لكى يعود إلى برائته، التى ليست براءة غفلاً عمياء، بل هى براءة اجتياز التجربة و الخروج منها كما يخرج الذهب من النار و قد اكتسب شكلاً و نقاء، إن مسئولية الإنسان هى أن يشكل الكون و ينقيه فى نفس الوقت ، و ليس سعيه الطويل إلا محاوة لغلغلة العقل فى المادة ، و خلق كل منسجم متوازن يقدمه بين يدى الله فى آخر الطريق ، كشهادة استحقاق على حياته على الأرض"ـ ↗
But then I realized, they weren't calling out for their own mothers. Not those weak women, those victims. Drug addicts, shopaholics, cookie bakers. They didn't mean the women who let them down, who failed to help them into womanhood, women who let their boyfriends run a train on them. Bingers, purgers, women smiling into mirrors, women in girdles, women on barstools. Not those women with their complaints and their magazines, controlling women, women who asked, what's in in for me? Not the women watching TV while they made dinner, women who dyed their hair blond behind closed doors trying to look twenty-three. They didn't mean the mothers washing dishes wishing they'd never married, the ones in the ER, saying they fell down the stairs, not the ones in prison saying lonliness is the human condition, get used to it. The wanted the real mother, the blood mother, the great womb, mother of fierce compassion, a woman large enough to hold all the pain, to carry it away. What we needed was someone who bled, someone deep and rich as a field, a wide-hipped mother, awesome, immense, women like huge soft couches, mothers coursing with blood, mothers big enough, wide enough for us to hid in, to sink down to the bottom of, mothers who would breathe for us when we could not breathe anymore, who would fight for us, who would kill for us, die for us. ↗
We are familiar with people who seek out solitude: penitents, failures, saints, or prophets. They retreat to desers, preferably, where they live on locusts and honey. Others, however, live in caves or cells on remote islands; some-more spectacularly-squat in cages mounted high atop poles swaying in the breeze. They do this to be nearer God. Their solitude is a self-moritification by which they do penance. They act in the belief that they are living a life pleasing to God. Or they wait months, years, for their solitude to be broken by some divine message that they hope then speedily to broadcast among mankind. Grenouille's case was nothing of the sort. There was not the least notion of God in his head. He was not doing penance or wating for some supernatural inspiration. He had withdrawn solely for his own pleasure, only to be near to himself. No longer distracted by anything external, he basked in his own existence and found it splendid. He lay in his stony crypt like his own corpse, hardly breathing, his heart hardly beating-and yet lived as intensively and dissolutely as ever a rake lived in the wide world outside. ↗
Quiero esperar en silencio la séptima ola. Si, aquí cuentan la historia indómita de la séptima ola. Las primeras seis son previsibles y equilibradas. Se condicionan unas a otras, no deparan sorpresas. Mantienen la continuidad. Pero, !cuidado con la séptima ola¡ La séptima es imprevisible. Durante mucho tiempo pasa inadvertida, participa en el monótono proceso, se adapta a sus predecesoras. Pero a veces estalla. Siempre ella, siempre la séptima. Porque es despreocupada, inocente, rebelde, barre con todo, lo cambia todo. Para ella no existe el antes, solo el ahora. Y después todo es distinto. ¿Mejor o peor? Eso solo pueden decirlo quienes estuvieron arrastrados por ella, quienes tuvieron el coraje de enfrentarla, de dejarse cautivar... ↗
هل أصبحت حكايه رجل مستقيم من الطرائف النادره في هذا العصر بحيث تحتل الصفحات الاولي في الجرائد وتوضع علي رووس الاعمده وتلفت اليها الانظار ويتحاكي بها الناس علي انها من العجائب والغرائب.. فهذا رجل يرد حافظه نقود بها بضعه الوف من الدولارات عثر عليها في الطريق العام ويعيدها الي صاحبها ويرفض ان ياخذ مكافاه ولا ينتظر ثنائ من احد ولا يريد احدا ان يكتب عنه.. ويمضي الي حال سبيله يلملم اطراف جلبابه القديم ويختفي عن الانظار.. من اي عالم جاء هذا الرجل.. ومن اي كوكب هبط.. ومن اي زمن من الازمان البائده نزل علينا.. وهل يعود الي بلده في مركبه فضائيه؟؟ انه جنس من الاجناس البشريه البائده بلاشك نقرا عنه في الكتب القديمه وفي قصص الاطفال.. ونعلم يقينا انه انقرض مثل الديناصورات التي انقرضت وانه لم يتبق منه الا هذه الحفريه النادره. ورغم ان صوت الدين الان عال جدا في الميكروفونات وفي خطب المساجد.. والمسابح نراها تجلجل في كل يد.. ورغم ان اكثر اللحي طالت وارتفع رصيد المواطن العادي من العمرات ومن زياره الرسول ومن الطواف حول الكعبه ومن ترديد الادعيه.. الا ان الدين نفسه غير موجود.. الدين بمعني الامانه والاستقامه والصلاح والعمل النافع وطهاره اليد ونقاء الضمير والزهد في الدنيا وتقوي الله والعمل للاخره.. فهذه الاخلاق اصبحت شيئا نادرا.. والجماعات الدينيه تشغل نفسها بمسائل اخري مثل القائ قنابل المسامير وقتل السياح في مذبحه الاقصر لانهم كفره( رغم ان هذه الجماعات الدينيه تعيش في انجلترا وفي امريكا تحت وصايه وحمايه المخابرات الاجنبيه وينفق عليها الـ CIA وهي تنفذ لهذه المخابرات خططها الاستعماريه بمنتهي الدقه والامانه).. ما علاقه كل هذا بالاسلام.. وما الخدمه التي يقدمونها.. تلك فزوره اخري في هذا العصر العجيب المليئ بالفوازير والمتناقضات ومن هو الاله المعبود في هذا الزمان؟!! انه ليس الله قطعا انه الدولار.. ربما انه الدنيا.. رغم كل هذه اللحي الطويله واسفار الحج والعمره والمساجد المزخرفه التي تطاول السمائ.. وهو شيطان النفس الذي يزين للنفس كل ما تهوي في جميع الاحوال.. وما اكثر الذين يتصورون انهم يعبدون الله وهم ابعد ما يكونون عنه.. وقد اقنع كل واحد منهم نفسه واقنعه شيطانه بانه يعمل لله وللرسول ولليوم الاخر وانه المسلم الحق وليس له من الاسلام الا الاسم.. وقد فعل من قبلهم القرامطه نفس الشيئ فهدموا الكعبه وقتلوا الحجيج وسرقوا الحجر الاسود وظنوا انهم يخدمون الدين.. والجماعات الدينيه الجديده يسمونها اليوم بجماعات الافغان لانها بدات في اف ↗
When you win, you don't examine it very much, except to congratulate yourself. You easily, and wrongly, assume it has something to do with your rare qualities as a person. But winning only measures how hard you've worked and how physically talented you are; it doesn't particularly define you beyond those characteristics. Losing on the other hand, really does say something about who you are. Among other things it measures are: do you blame others, or do you own the loss? Do you analyze your failure, or just complain about bad luck? If you're willing to examine failure, and to look not just at your outward physical performance, but your internal workings, too, losing can be valuable. How you behave in those moments can perhaps be more self-defining than winning could ever be. Sometimes losing shows you for who you really are. ↗
I looked long and hard for the paper roses! I found the reddest red ribbon, and a little golden card! We were all there together, many of us, in the same place; but I was the only one who found the paper roses, the only one who chose the reddest red ribbon, and the only one who topped off with a golden card. And so I learned that if people are unhappy, it is only because they don't know how to look for the paper roses, they don't see the reddest red ribbon, and they don't like the little golden cards. We are all in the same wrap-shoppe in this life. But we are different. Because some of us are looking for the paper roses, choosing the reddest red ribbon, and picking up the little golden cards. ↗
#golden-cards #happiness #inspiration #inspirational #inspirational-life
. . . [O]nce we begin to feel deeply all the aspects of our lives, we begin to demand from ourselves and from our life-pursuits that they feel in accordance with that joy which we know ourselves to be capable of. Our erotic knowledge empowers us, becomes a lens through which we scrutinize all aspects of our existence, forcing us to evaluate those aspects honestly in terms of their relative meaning within our lives." "The erotic is a resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognized feeling." "Of course, women so empowered are dangerous. So we are taught to separate the erotic from most vital areas of our lives other than sex. ↗
