Inspirational quotes with rebuilding.
In the end, you feel that your much-vaunted, inexhaustible fantasy is growing tired, debilitated, exhausted, because you're bound to grow out of your old ideals; they're smashed to splinters and turn to dust, and if you have no other life, you have no choice but to keep rebuilding your dreams from the splinters and dust. But the heart longs for something different! And it is vain to dig in the ashes of your old fancies, trying to find even a tiny spark to fan into a new flame that will warm the chilled heart and bring back to life everything that can send the blood rushing wildly through the body, fill the eyes with tears--everything that can delude you so well!
He must trust, and he must have faith. And so he builds, because what is building, and rebuilding and rebuilding again, but an act of faith?
Building your "dream life" is filled with things that can feel like the opposite of a dream:MistakesDelaysStarting overFailureThe building part is actually more of a rebuilding that is a continual process. The building is not linear in nature but far more interesting. You might start a creative dream, take the "next step", and find yourself completely bored, dissatisfied, or just not inspired.
No guinea of earned money should go to rebuilding the college on the old plan just as certainly none could be spent upon building a college upon a new plan: therefore the guinea should be earmarked "Rags. Petrol. Matches." And this note should be attached to it. "Take this guinea and with it burn the college to the ground. Set fire to the old hypocrisies. Let the light of the burning building scare the nightingales and incarnadine the willows. And let the daughters of educated men dance round the fire and heap armful upon armful of dead leaves upon the flames. And let their mothers lean from the upper windows and cry, "Let it blaze! Let it blaze! For we have done with this 'education!
Jack coughed slightly and offered his hand. “Hi, uh. I’m Jack.”Kim took it. “Jack what?”“Huh?”“Your last name, silly.”“Jackson.”She blinked at him. “Your name is Jack Jackson?”He blushed. “No, uh, my first name’s Rhett, but I hate it, so…” He gestured to the chair and she sat. Her dress rode up several inches, exposing pleasing long lines of creamy skin. “Well, Jack, what’s your field of study?”“Biological Engineering, Genetics, and Microbiology. Post-doc. I’m working on a research project at the institute.”“Really? Oh, uh, my apple martini’s getting a little low.”“I’ve got that, one second.” He scurried to the bar and bought her a fresh one. She sipped and managed to make it look not only seductive but graceful as well. “What do you want to do after you’re done with the project?” Kim continued.“Depends on what I find.”She sent him a simmering smile. “What are you looking for?” Immediately, Jack’s eyes lit up and his posture straightened. “I started the project with the intention of learning how to increase the reproduction of certain endangered species. I had interest in the idea of cloning, but it proved too difficult based on the research I compiled, so I went into animal genetics and cellular biology. It turns out the animals with the best potential to combine genes were reptiles because their ability to lay eggs was a smoother transition into combining the cells to create a new species, or one with a similar ancestry that could hopefully lead to rebuilding extinct animals via surrogate birth or in-vitro fertilization. We’re on the edge of breaking that code, and if we do, it would mean that we could engineer all kinds of life and reverse what damage we’ve done to the planet’s ecosystem.”Kim stared. “Right. Would you excuse me for a second?”She wiggled off back to her pack of friends by the bar. Judging by the sniggering and the disgusted glances he was getting, she wasn’t coming back. Jack sighed and finished off his beer, massaging his forehead. “Yes, brilliant move. You blinded her with science. Genius, Jack.”He ordered a second one and finished it before he felt smallish hands on his shoulders and a pair of soft lips on his cheek. He turned to find Kamala had returned, her smile unnaturally bright in the black lights glowing over the room. “So…how did it go with Kim?”He shot her a flat look. “You notice the chair is empty.”Kamala groaned. “You talked about the research project, didn’t you?”“No!” She glared at him.“…maybe…”“You’re so useless, Jack.” She paused and then tousled his hair a bit. “Cheer up. The night’s still young. I’m not giving up on you.”He smiled in spite of himself. “Yet.”Her brown eyes flashed. “Never.
Rebuilding is something that is practically difficult than starting over from nothing.
Instead he felt only love. And that was the miracle. The surge in hatred since the war began had created more love around it. It was indomitable, mad, and everlasting, scattered through the rich and the poor, deep and calm in the Quakers, hot and fierce in the mothers, faithful in the warriors, wistful in the pets, seeping its way into mercy and atrocity, destroying things, rebuilding them.
Fashion is neither moral or immoral, but it is for rebuilding the morale.
History is not always pessimistic for if World War II Europe has taught us anything it is that the rebuilding of cities is possible and the mending of a nation’s spirit can be achieved.
Canadian researcher Donald Dutton . . has written that marital work with a man who has a history of relationship violence may be a “conflict-generator” and that individual work . . should come first for both husband and wife. …Marital therapy does not provide the battered woman the kind of safety she needs for rebuilding her strength and finding her identity. The consequences may be severe if she is truthful in a couple’s session. She may be too afraid. Moreover, many upscale batterers can be charming and persuasive and may convey a far different image of themselves to the therapist than the one that reflects the woman’s reality at home.
Rebuilding relationship requires a lifelong discipline and commitment.
Sometimes I think of rebuilding my friendship with old friends. But at the same time, there's a reason why we fell off. Shit happens, but life's good.
Now you might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I personally will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.
For a moment, she could do nothing but stare at the vaulted ceiling, sucking in deep breaths.She didn’t know. Stars above, she didn’t know it could feel like this. The attentions she’d given herself had never felt that good. In her dreams, it had never felt that good. But then, it wasn’t him in the flesh. Not like now.Nikolai removed his fingers, then placed a gentler openmouthed kiss on her sex, licking slowly with the flat of his tongue. Sienna whimpered and scooted up the bed, far too sensitive there now.He gazed up and grinned, licking his bottom lip before he sucked the two fingers he’d had inside of her with a long slide from his mouth. “I could taste you forever.”“My heart would give out in a day,” she panted, incredulous he would do and say something so naughty. “Perhaps in an hour.”He chuckled and launched himself up and over her. “I like seeing that flush in your cheeks.” He nipped her lips. “And hearing that smile in your voice.”She wondered how he could see anything, but then again, he was vampire. “Well, I like breathing.” She panted heavily still. “So give me a moment to catch my breath.”He settled beside her, pulled the covers over them, and wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her over till her head rested on his chest. “Take all the time you need.”His voice was light and airy, unlike his usual brooding self.She tilted her head toward him. “You’re happy with yourself, aren’t you?”“Quite.”“I’ve never experienced something like that before.”She had no experience with men, but she thought she knew enough from watching farm animals. Apparently not.“I am certainly glad to hear that,” he said only slightly more serious. “If another man tried to do that to you, I’d have to rip out his tongue.”“You’re very territorial.”“Very. Glad you’ve noted.”Strange how that act of intimacy had washed away the angst and tension from before. Then she realized that was exactly what he was trying to do. He’d wanted her pleasure alone, he’d said. He’d certainly gotten it.“Is it always like that?” she asked, almost too shy, but enjoying the intimacy that had grown between them in the dark.“No.” He flatted his palm, fingers spread, over her abdomen under the covers. “It will be better next time.”“Better?”He laughed and lowered his head, sweeping his lips across hers. Not a kiss, but a reminder that they’d knocked down a wall between them and there was no rebuilding it.Then he whispered, “Wait till you see what it feels like when I’m buried deep inside you.
I watched the colored lights and sparkles coming off of Sebastian in the dark water, as the ocean began the process of rebuilding his tail. I longed to join him in the water, to wrap my arms around him and let him carry me under the sea; but I wasn't ready. For him, the ocean was a home; for me it was death. Without being able to transform, the ocean depths would suffocate me, the pressure collapse my bones and flesh.
I explained we lost the porch to the flood. 'Father hasn't gotten around to rebuilding it, although he's quite a good carpenter. He says if Jesus was a carpenter, it's good enough for a clergyman. But I don't remember that Jesus let his house fall down.
Stop looking for a partner. Focus on your goals and rebuilding your life. The right person will eventually find their way to you.
He considered razing the house and rebuilding, but he realized that houses are not haunted, and regardless of the architecture with which we surround ourselves,our ghosts stay with us until we ourselves are ghosts.
I like his optimism,' I said. 'I like the way when he and some other rabbis saw a jackal in the ruins of Jerusalem, and the others began to cry, he laughed and said that just as the prophecy of the destruction of the temple was fulfilled, so the prophecy of the rebuilding would also be fulfilled. I like that.
I think you’re wrong,” she said. “I don’t think humans were supposed to die out during the Infection. And I think those of us who survived have a duty to protect the next generation. We’re starting over, Justin. We’re rebuilding the world. And this time, we’re going to make it even better.” ~ Carly Daniels
The situation is like this: they hired our parents to destroy this world, and now they'd like to put us to work rebuilding it, and -- to add insult to injury -- at a profit.
There has been no single influence which has done more to prevent man from finding God and rebuilding his character, has done more to lower the moral tone of society than the denial of personal guilt. This repudiation of man’s personal responsibility for his action is falsely justified in two ways: by assuming that man is only an animal and by giving a sense of guilt the tag “morbid.
...you can ruin your credit in one seemingly responsible afternoon, but rebuilding it takes years.
In spring, 1937, of course, families still rode the rails because of the Depression, which everyone said was already in the history books as the worst ever. The jobs still couldn’t be found, at least for most people. Everett itself—the smaller, poorer, little brother lying north of Seattle—ached with the unemployed and the hopeless. The labor union tensions in the woods still festered and got bloody at times. But Skybillings—and the railroad logging shows of the Cascade Mountains—felt like they were, inch-by-inch, rebuilding America.
Now let me ask my countrymen, Have you ever granted a moment's thought to this very vital problem in the building of our nation ? Have you devised any practical remedies to combat this evil ? Will you, my countrymen, go on without making any intelligent effort to lay the axe at the root of this weaknss and misery ? Will you allow the noted chivalry and the noble hardihood of the Indian to sink into oblivion ? Will you make it a thing entirely of the past ? I implore you, I beseech you, I exhort you my brethren in the name of all that is dearest to you to shake off the lethargy, to show to this world that you were sleeping the sleep of lions only, to rise again with redoubled energy and courage to take the work of rebuilding your nation in right earnest.
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