human

I want to celebrate the sadness that makes you feel everything so deeply. I want to throw a party for the wounds that make you so unabashedly human.

The real you is not sad, angry, depressed, ashamed, hurt, bitter or lost. These things are not real. They feel real but they're not. As spiritual beings living a brief human existence, this is not who we are. We are beautiful, radiant, joyful and loving.

I may be 65 tomorrow, but i have no plans to 'let go.My psychiatrist asked me the same thing. He said he wanted to give me a pill so I wouldn__ obsess so much over momentary things. I told him I don__ want a pill. I want an answer.

2. We experience bouts of depressions at times. Those are the times when we feel that we just want to lie low or become invisible. There__ nothing wrong in that. We are after all human beings. But to remain in that state forever is not advisable. Get up, get over it, pick up your life and start living once again. You have it in you, so chin up and cheer up.

You say you're 'depressed' - all i see is resilience. You are allowed to feel messed up and inside out. It doesn't mean you're defective - it just means you're human.

If you are not good at speeches, be good at your actions.

My words are not the inspiration, I am the inspiration.

Your flesh is not a reflection of your soul. So when you look in the mirror, remember that your light outshines your flaws.

A person__ words reflect the image of his character and the amount of truth and lies in it is always visible to the human heart than ordinary eyes.

When a language dies, so much more than words are lost. Language is the dwelling place of ideas that do not exist anywhere else. It is a prism through which to see the world. Tom says that even words as basic as numbers are imbued with layers of meaning. The numbers we use to count plants in the sweetgrass meadow also recall the Creation Story. _n:ska__ne. This word invokes the fall of Skywoman from the world above. All alone, én:ska, she fell toward the earth. But she was not alone, for in her womb a second life was growing. Tékeni__here were two. Skywoman gave birth to a daughter, who bore twin sons and so then there were three_ áhsen. Every time the Haudenosaunee count to three in their own language, they reaffirm their bond to Creation.

...why, when people write words do they capitalize ___? Why not capitalize __ou_ too? For You are as important as I am. It__ hard for me to understand the human ways.

I saw a stop sign, and it occurred to me that just as no one expects a stop sign to stop a car, I shouldn__ expect words to substitute for experience. That__ not their job, although words certainly can be misused in that way. The job of words is to direct us toward experience, to round out experience, to facilitate experience, and to give us ways to share at least pale shadows of that experience with those we love. And the job of words is to help us learn to be _ and act _ human.

I don't hold with shamans, witch doctors, or psychiatrists. Shakespeare, Tolstoy, or even Dickens, understood more about the human condition than ever occurred to any of you. You overrated bunch of charlatans deal with the grammar of human problems, and the writers I've mentioned with the essence.

Love and kindness are the hammer and chisel that gently chip through barriers and long-held beliefs to reveal the magnificent soul contained within every human.

When all help is stopped, when your loved ones started doubting your competence, when failure seems almost confirmed, but no matter what, if you make one more attempt, that final step will fetch you the victory.

My first mistake is to humanize God. My second mistake is to hold those wretched human characteristics up against all of the majestic things that I sense God should be. The blatant discrepancy which is certain to ensue then allows me to not only justify my rejection of Him, it grants me unbridled permission to discount His existence altogether. And that third and final mistake is without a doubt the most costly of all.

Then there are the simple things. The way she fits against my side when we__e sitting together. How she can silence my addled thoughts with one look. The sound of my name from her lips. The way she can make a moment, any moment, a thousands times better when she is there. How the simplest pleasures in life become exciting with the promise of sharing the experience with her.

So, apart from casting runes, what other hobbies do you have? Forbidden rituals, human sacrifices, torturing? _