Choose joyful abundance in your heart and be unbounded, free, and relaxed. Be relentless with your choice and you’ll make your mark.
Kiss your scars. Fall in love with them. They ought to serve as life-affirming reminders—a lingering trace of hope. The only reason we have these scars is because we survived and are still here.
But I get it; it's a way to mark time. When your life's too busy, it forces you to check in with yourself. Or when it feels all the same all the time, maybe it can make you feel special.
Be nice to the environment. Be nice to animals. Be nice to people. If you do that, you will leave a mark on the world.
Age in just a number. It carries no weight. The real weight is in impacts. The truth is that you can do it at any age. Get up and be willing to leave a mark.
A poetess is not as selfishas you assume.After months of agonising over her marriage of words—the bride—and spaces—the groom,she knows that as soonas she has penned the poem,it’s yours to consume.So, without giving it a think,she blows on the inkand the letters fly awaylike dandelions on a windy day,landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips.But more often than not,you can easily spotthem trodden and forgotten,becoming sodden and rotten.Yet, she will continue to makewhat’s others to takebecause selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.
You are the mark on my liquid heartwhere love begins with the beginning’s startYou are the desire of the ablaze fires the only truth from ten-thousand-liarsFrom the poem- A Letter to My Love
Beauty of your love-filled smile created a mark on the stone wall of my heart, I can erase it never.
You know how hard it is to actually touch the world? To make a mark on it? You die and they bury you in it.
What strikes me now as the most wonderful proof of my fitness, or unfitness, for the times is the fact that nothing people were writing or talking about had any real interest for me. Only the object haunted me, the separate, detached, insignificant thing. It might be a part of the human body or a staircase in a vaudeville house; it might be a smokestack or a button I had found in the gutter. Whatever it was it enabled me to open up, to surrender, to attach my signature. To the life about me, to the people who made up the world I knew, I could not attach my signature. I was as definitely outside their world as a cannibal is outside the bounds of civilized society. I was filled with a perverse love of the thing-in-itself - not a philosophic attachment, but a passionate, desperately passionate hunger, as if in this discarded, worthless thing which everyone ignored there was contained the secret of my own regeneration.
We have the choice of two identities: the external mask which seems to be real...and the hidden, inner person who seems to us to be nothing, but who can give himself eternally to the truth in whom he subsists. (295)
Rejoice in the works of your hands, be happy and thankful that you are valuable, that what you say and do insn't taken for a ride, that you have rejected the notion of self-doubt and fear, that God isn't blind towards propagating your positive influence, and finally that you'll leave a meritorious legacy.
There are endings. There are beginnings. Sometimes they coincide, with the ending of one thing marking the beginning of another. But sometimes there is simply a long space after an ending, a time when it seems everything else has ended and nothing else can ever begin.
You said you want to leave a mark on my heart. You did, a burning pain that won’t leave me wherever I turn.
For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Gospel of Mark ~ Mark 8:36
Scattered among these things are reminders that sound once existed: a metronome, a drumming pad, a guitar pick, a trumpet mouthpiece, a music stand, a tuning fork, a block of rosin...The older instruments bear the marks of those who have already played them, the scuffs and bites and dents that are the mysterious scars of sound. In their midst the house hangs, tenuous and enveloping, a sounding board waiting to be struck.
Now to life...I grant you the ability to give, to take, to expedite, to wander, to love, to hate, to charge, to expend...All of life is beautiful for what it makes of us. With only this single shot, let us leap into the unknown with our eyes open and our hearts ready.
Mark nodded even though she couldn't see. He'd suddenly lost any desire to talk, and his plans for a perfect day washed away with the stream. The memories. They never let him go, not even for a half hour. They always had to rush back in, bringing all the horror.
There might not be a lot of people who can understand you and the way you think, don’t lose your temper and don’t get sad, because you are destined to mark a new path.
The problem with saying or feeling 'sorry' is that it often comes after the damage is already done. (..........and a damage is a damage, small or big, it always leave an ugly mark on one's soul)
Absolutely nothing. That's what I'm going to do for two weeks. Not think. If I start to think, I'm going to think really hard about not thinking until I quit thinking.
Your reputation has no duplicate. You are one till the end of time. Once it is damaged, a fresh personality cannot spring from the old one.
Concentration is a powerful force, it is the mark of seriousness that attracts certain energies to complete your half-done work.
Life is plenty pointless. We're all put here on this earth, such a minuscule thing, really. This tiny Earth, in the midst of an ever-larger universe. We were put here for reasons unbeknownst to us, reasons that may not even exist. And, above all that, we try so hard. People work to discover things, to try to create the greatest new thing, to learn everything, to find answers. But those answers are pointless. Because one day, this world will end. And whatever mark you may have thought you left will vanish, like it was never even there. And that, my friends, is the meaning of life.
My concern is to help people find out how they could best live their lives to hit the mark almost every single time.
The police have no leads as yet on the person or persons who painted obscene suggestions on the buildings. One store owner said he was going to leave a dictionary on a public bench so the vandals could at least spell the obscenities correctly.