Posts Tagged ‘wise sayings’

One of the great goals of life is to live a story good enough to be retold.

Sometimes we chose our stories; sometimes they choose us.

Life is a story, told by a mystery, laden with kindness, signifying love.

Our stories are the tributaries of a great river; they converge where there is love.

A story wraps a meaning around a life.

Lives are messy; the stories told to justify them are messier.

Selfishness linearizes a story; generosity dimensionalizes it.

We restory our way to glory.

To write a good children’s story is a great accomplishments; to read one to a child is a great privilege.

We live our lives; we tell our stories; our final listeners are gracious.

The universe has a story told by the stars.

I am therefore I am.

Am in Latin is a sum, an ever changing one-plus-one.

We overrate the “am” debate.

Am is an amalgam made out of what will-come.

Love am; adore was; cherish will be.

Our existence is expressed as an irregular verb; it is lived out in an irregular fashion.

Your who-am-I is hard-to-tell.

I-am is grounded and rooted in I; I choose to turn this into a we.

I am; you are; we can.

The I-am maxim, is healed in tandem.

Our worst memories fade; our best memories get brighter.

Humor is a matchstick; a crowd is a stack of wood.

Dark humor is relished by bright people.

The day glows; the night sparkles; the truth shines.

Bright moments exist in dark hours.

To smile is to shine a bright flashlight.

A kind touch is a bright torch.

The best bright loves the worst dim.

Dark emotions need bright behaviors.

Hugs warm; kisses color; words brighten.

Almost is often the beautiful and satisfying result of utmost.

Incomplete can still compete.

My almost for His foremost.

Sometimes is more honest than always.

A partial victory is the satisfying reward given to acceptance.

Almost is a kind of first — and last.

Effort is often heroic and exists as a kind of loss steeped in valiant.

Life is not summiting; it’s trailblazing.

Almost is a routine part of disciplined practice.

Almost is always moving to a home in need of remodeling.

Almost is one of the most beautiful and coveted outcomes of total.

Every second of every day the need for restoration begins.

Every day, old becomes new to someone.

Ever new is old.

To restore is to love.

To restore, abhor, then adore.

Restoration takes passion — and money.

Restoration understands the past and sees the future.

Knowledge is the mother of renewal.

Wisdom loves old and old loves wisdom.

A junkyard is a treasure chest.

We rush about in circles, looking for centers.

Simple is complex.

At the edge of chaos we reach for the circle of simplicity.

Complexity seeks serenity.

Wealth is a complexity chasing a simplicity.

Global is local.

Complexities have changed the world — 1,647 and 174,465.

We need quiet — not too much.

Biodiversity is the complexity that saves.

Quality has deep roots in quantity.

By means of invention we have obliterated distance, annihilated silence, decimated disease and perpetuated our craving for love.

Hang in there, then rappel down; use the noose.

Hang tough; that’s enough.

Hang on by your fingernails, involve your toenails too.

Hung up; hang on.

Hang on every word; chew on every perspective; digest every good angle.

If you get hung out to dry, rehydrate.

Hang on to it to get the hang of it.

You may hang up your boots, but keep your flip flops.

Hung up; don’t look down.

Nurture your nature.

To nurture your soul, nurture your body.

Nurturing lies within the art of being nonproductive.

Nurturly is creaturly.

Reading is feeding.

To nurture meekness befriend weakness.

We nurture one thing only to neglect another.

Achievement is a form of nurturement.

Nurturing lies in knowing when to begin — and when to stop.

To love is to nurture.

To nurture your soul, go outside.

It is your nature to nurture.

Needy makes greedy.

Indigent; indignant.

Need is a seed.

Need shrinks the world.

Need pays attention to need.

Need engenders solutions, and births destructions.

The devastated must titrate their way to a new identity

Beggared — embittered or embiggered.

Impecunious gets the dubious salubrious.

Think high, not why.

When life goes small, stay big.

Some answers we don’t want; we get them anyway.

When why is nigh, fly.

You may ask why, but work on next.

What is; why was.

Irrationality is fog; “Why” rushes to and fro within it.

Why, what and how invented the experiment.

“Why?” we cry; unanswered we die.

The proof is lost in the pudding.

Fake news is booze; read it and weave.

No need to cry fake if no ones awake.

Trust is truth until there’s a tryst.

Post truth; post peace.

We read what we believe; we hear what we want; we see what we agree with.

Misinformation — predation.

Fake news puts in the screws.

Fake news is cult cool aide.

Taste transforms tidings.

Fake to fake; jape to jape.

Leaks become lore.

Gobble hobble; waste taste.

Taste is mace; appetite is a mugger.

No accounting for tastelessness.

Taste is learned, unfamiliar spurned.

Taste is a blast; it comes from the past.

Pleasant places, pleasant tastes.

Sweet, the treat; sugar, the hooker.

The great enemy of coffee — bad coffee.

What we eat we wear.

Wisdom lies in the taste of ones own reticence.

Positive — it’s appreciative.

Positive — it’s a cognitive additive.

Negative has a loud voice; positive is a quiet choice.

Go all out; be deficiently negative.

Positive may tap into a dark muse — dismissive.

Count your blessings; curses are all just guessing.

Sanguine channels oblivious.

Affirmative is curative.

Generosity is dope; charity is dopamine.

Those who love assure; those who care calm.

Everything speaks; not everything listens.

Everything has a language; for most of these we still need a Rosetta Stone.

The trees have been speaking; we have not been listening.

Nothing spoken has been forgotten.

Our soul is always trying to tell us what we need.

The voice of compassion we most need is our own.

As an adult we have one thing to say to ourselves as a child, “I love you so much.”

The universe speaks; our telescopes listen.

All earth’s living things speak; they have their own grammar; they use their own vocabulary.

Neurons speak a language with a complex syntax.

Oralism is colonialism; sound is no more superior to signs than white is to black.

Deafness is not in need of the hearing-world’s prescription; it has it’s own fully-enriched signing community.

Languages die when communities perish; their echo remains.

All the arts are in transit; the pleasure lies in watching them go by.

Commerce elevates art, and art ennobles commerce.

Artistic is mystic and cryptic — and viciously capitalistic.

Art for the rich; crafts for the poor.

Technology hatches art; art spawns technology.

The arts brew tea the leisure class sips.

The individual is the art of the group, the group the art of the individual.

Each person creates a unique museum of paintings, music and fashion in a room inside themselves.

The arts — they are pliers; they yank out the deep emotions of our souls.

Format begets art, art format.

All the arts look longingly over their shoulders.

If everything is art, nothing is art.

Everything carries a song; not everything sings it.

The universe sings; all our attempts are merely efforts to sing along.

Some sing themselves; others sing us all.

A song sings because it has a bird.

We sing sweet dreams at weddings and fond memories at funerals.

Our favorite songs tell us what we want to hear.

Melody colors words.

Songs rise out of sentience; they descends into sentiment.

We are birthed with a cry, we are laid to rest with a song.

A song comes from a heart.

A home’s is a refuge; a bed is a sanctuary.

A bed is a place to recover; a world is a place to live.

A bed is safe, but a world is an adventure.

An ocean is a bed then it’s a mountain.

We begin and end in a bed.

Life needs only a mattress, a meal, a mountain and a mate.

All standing is sustained by lying down.

Few lie in the bed they make; they lie in the bed someone else made.

To bed, to bed insomniac head.

Calamity makes sustained bedfellows.

Live slow, die fast, leave a fully used corpse.

Mortality — it’s an ingenious solution for purposelessness, meanness, boredom, evil and everyday annoyances.

Immortality is created by memory — temporarily.

Immortality won’t bore us; it will be a fascination with an infinite complexity.

The longing for immortality is the longing for belonging.

Age is wasted on the old.

Live, give; mort abort.

Remember that you must die; do that so that you may live.

Beautician, mortician, detrition, transition.

Perform your values.

Achieve great things — being content.

Being is a form of doing.

We are born performing; we die at the end of the show.

We applaud performance; we memorialize being.

When we want an authentic experience we distain a superficial performance.

Your beliefs reside in your head; your values reside in your limbs.

All promises are best backed up by performances.

Do, rest, be, be, be.

Produce out of what flows from your heart not out of what demanded by your neediness.

To effect change in others, effect change in yourself.

Ruminate — then effectuate.

The over-examined life isn’t lived worthily.

To live fully, quit thinking overly.

Over-process; over-suffer.

Overthinking is a rollercoaster with a permanent loop and a never changing destination; you always get off where you got on.

Thinking about have fun is not having fun.

Eat, work and sleep as a rhythm — never worry that way.

To think of others is to escape yourself.

Laughter cures obsession.

Worry wastes; gratitude wonders.