reflection

Reflection ingeniously knows how to convert a beauty into a super beauty!

Sometimes people don't get sick from bacteria or a virus- -living organisms alien to the human body- -but from the human brain itself. Our brains can be our worst enemy, our cruelest opponent.

And though I've lived to be an old man with my very own share of happiness for all the mess I made, I still judge every joyous moment, every victory and revelation against those few seconds of living.

You are a mirror of yourself in others. Whatever you want, give. Be the best reflection of yourself.

When there is a beautiful reflection, we know not where to look, to the reflection or to the reflected!

It was painful to consider that the nation which could produce the world's greatest battleships was unable under pressure to produce a single satisfactory torpedo boat.

Low-grade pain can be so rooted in your being that the pain begins to look like you, and you begin to look like the pain _ it becomes your identity.

She had the world__ worst poker face: her feelings floated across them like reflections on a still pond.

And instead of dying Immediately after they shot him, he would go on to survive several days solely because of the cold that January. Maybe that's why we are drawn to those who posses the coldest of hearts ... In effort to survive._

For the liquor of Miss Amelia has a special quality of its own. It is clean and sharp on the tongue, but once down a man it glows inside him for a long time afterward. And that is not all. It is known that if a message is written with lemon juice on a clean sheet of paper there will be no sign of it. But if the paper is held for a moment to the fire then the letters turn brown and the meaning becomes clear. Imagine that the whisky is the fire and that the message is that which is known only in the soul of a man _ then the worth of Miss Amelia's liquor can be understood. Things that have gone unnoticed, thoughts that have been harbored far back in the dark mind, are suddenly recognized and comprehended. A spinner who has thought only of the loom, the dinner pail, the bed, and then the loom again _ this spinner might drink some on a Sunday and come across a marsh lily. And in his palm he might hold this flower, examining the golden dainty cup, and in him suddenly might come a sweetness keen as pain. A weaver might look up suddenly and see for the first time the cold, weird radiance of midnight January sky, and a deep fright at his own smallness stop his heart. Such things as these, then, happen when a man has drunk Miss Amelia's liquor. He may suffer, or he may be spent with joy _ but the experience has shown the truth; he has warmed his soul and seen the message hidden there.

Our truest reflection reveals that we are what we think, we are what we say and we are what we continuously do.

What is love really, but two imperfect people staring at their reflection and loving what they see...because someone chose to stand beside them.

To __top and smell the roses_ we must first believe that there__ a rose garden out there somewhere. And in this jaded world of ours, the refusal to believe in gardens leaves most of us ref of roses.

Reflection is an underlining theme of Design Thinking.

Nico was devastatingly alone. He__ lost his big sister Bianca. He__ pushed away all other demigods who__ tried to get close to him. His experiences at Camp Half-Blood, in the Labyrinth and in Tartarus had left him scarred, afraid to trust anyone.

The private things of lifewhat you do when eyes are averted, curtains are drawn shut, the expected are delayed, wife and kids vacate for leisurely merriments, when doors are latched, your eyes are held captive, __riority_ beckons, and __he_ perverse emerges_..Tantamount to accountability is transparency which tends toward freedom!_. what you do in private is who you really are!

We often try to see the reflections of the people who left us in the people who come to stay with us__nd in the course of doing so, we often try to change them to someone who they are not and we often end up turning them into the pieces of same shattered mirror that used to hurt us before they came.

Writing is the only way I have to explain my own life to myself.