#Quotes.

[musingnation-archived]

[suhyla]

You will never regret trying for something that matters to you, regardless of what the outcome is. When it matters, you’ll always maintain that stubborn hope that perhaps this attempt will be the time you figure it out. Perhaps this will be the attempt through which it all works out.

The truth is, rarely will you ever get good something without failing at it first. And often, you appreciate something that much more when you gain it through relentless effort and determination. It is that repeated effort and commitment that makes your eventual success that much sweeter. Because you refused to give up. You invested your tears, duaas, and hard work. You learned from each try. You acknowledged each shortcoming. You asked Allah repeatedly to make a way.

When you recognize that everything worth having will be gained through a process of hard work and dedication, you appreciate every part of the journey. Every setback is an opportunity to learn; every shortcoming an opportunity to grow. You water your dream with every little effort you can, knowing that one day, your dream will bloom so beautifully. And how great will it be to gaze upon those initial buds, knowing how much time and effort you invested for them to sprout. How proud you will be as you watch your little garden of dreams grow.

Throughout Ramadan, we dedicate ourselves to building new habits. Sometimes we fall short. But the beauty of this month is we embrace imperfection as part of the process. Allah knows we will fall short. He never expects perfection, because our nature as humans is always changing. With every apology to Him and re-affirmation of wanting to get better, He gently picks us back up, and encourages us to try again. And one day, we will bloom into the versions of ourselves He knows us to be. One day, every duaa we work toward will be our reality. There are no quick fixes on this journey. You have to invest in the slow, frustrating process of watering your dreams with consistency and dedication until they are ready to bloom. You have to be in it for the long run. But be proud of your efforts. These seeds might just bloom into the most beautiful gardens— in this life and the next 🌸

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[heylinfanclub]

I do love this series.

‘Could you tell the gender of a beast from its barking’ a new fave.

[spaciebabie]

The attraction was rather cold—you’d always known that. Lots of things in the building didn’t entirely work—or at least correctly.

It was especially worse in the night, it seemed. If your few night-shift experiences were to go by—and they were.

You’d usually tried to ignore it—it wasn’t all that bad. You could deal with it, you figured. Especially if you chose to wore something warm.

Although, tonight...

You found yourself on the night-shift once more—the current guard taking a day off for something. You were sitting in the spinning chair.

The last few times you’d done it, it hadn’t been the worst, and you’d been wearing something warm—given that it was a chilly month, anyways.

Tonight was the worst, and you had nothing to put on to try and help with it.

At the sound of heavy, mechanical footsteps—something you’d grown used to, you turned towards the office’s entryway.

There, you were greeted by the sight of Springtrap, who tilted his head a little bit. “Love?” He spoke, “Night-shift again?”

You nodded, shifting positions on the chair a little. You had no clue why the real night-shift worker kept disappearing so often.

If you were remembering correctly, this was your fifth time working the other shift—partially because nobody else wanted to take it.

Springtrap hummed, ears twitching. He moved past the office’s entryway, and towards you.

“You’re cold... aren’t you, darling?” He questioned.

You nodded.

A moment passed, before you suddenly found yourself being picked up by the animatronic rabbit—who was trying to be gentle.

Springtrap held you up for just a moment, before he moved, going to sit in the spinning chair himself.

Once the rabbit was positioned in the chair, he placed you back down—putting you on his lap. Springtrap held you close, his arms wrapped around you.

“I’ll keep you warm, Love.”

<Incorrect-FNaF-quotes

IM GONNA PEE IM GONNA PEE IM GONNA PEE IM GONNA PEE IM GONNA PEE IM GONNA

[eepymemes]

“plenty of humans were monstrous, and plenty of monsters knew how to play at being human.”

— vicious, v. e. schwab

[irfanullashariff]

"With everything that has happened to you, you can feel sorry for yourself or treat what has happened as a gift. Everything is either an opportunity to grow or an obstacle to keep you from growing. You get to choose."

 –  Wayne Dyer

[alexandramalbb]

" I lied and said I was busy. You can judge me if that's what you want. But I was busy breathing deeply, wiping my tears, getting up and smiling. And I'm not sorry that I lied, but it hurts that no one noticed what I was going through. " -MalAlexandra

[euesworld]

"Nestle your soul down into my heart, let it rest within me and just know that I love you deeply.."

Let us share the beats of our heart.. two souls, one heart - eUë

[writingwithsnails]

Only you can be the aching in my heart My enemy, the only animal I couldn't fight You hold me in the dark when storms arrive

From Only You by Ellie Goulding.

[yoakkemae]

alex's view of the earth from space. ( ark angel , chapter 21 ).

There were just nineteen minutes remaining, and Alex knew it was madness to waste even a few seconds. But he would never have this opportunity again. He found another window on the opposite side from the sun, opened the shutter, and looked out.

And there it was.

Planet earth. Seen from outer space.

HIs first thought was how big it was; his second, how small. Of course, he had seen images of the earth taken by astronauts. But this was different. He was seeing it with his own eyes. And he was moving. As he crouched in front of the porthole, he was traveling so fast that it would take him just ninety minutes to go all the way around. No wonder it seemed small. And yet the earth filled his vision. All the life in the universe, six billion people, was concentrated there. And the thought of that was enormous.

He was struck by the colours. No photographs could have prepared him for the sheer iridescence of the planet. It looked as if it were lit from inside. At first it seemed that everything was blue and white--most of the planet was water--and Alex remembered lying on his back when he was small, staring at a perfect summer sky. If he could have turned the sky into a ball, that was what he was seeing now. But as he gazed down, he began to make out the shape of the coastlines, a thin line of emerald green; and then Ark Angel turned the corner of the world and there was Africa--all of Africa ahead of him--and suddenly he was seeing intense gold, yellow, and red... mountains and deserts but no cities. Nothing moving. And he wondered, if he were an alien and came upon the earth, could he pass by without being aware of the teeming life below?

But then day became night and he found himself over the western Mediterranean seaboard, and even from three hundred miles away, he could make out thousands of electric lights that had to be man-made. Spain and Gibraltar, Turkey, Tunisia, Algeria, and Lebanon--all of them were visible at once, the tiny lights blinking like fireflies. There were storms over Europe. Alex saw the lightning shimmer through the clouds.

It wasn't just that there was life on earth. The whole earth was alive. Alex could feel it pulsating beneath him. [...] At that moment, Alex felt a sense of loneliness he would remember for the rest of his life. He wanted to go home.

[slverblood]

Why would Anne Carson do this to me?

Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief. Ask a headhunter why he cuts off human heads. He'll say that rage impels him and rage is born of grief. The act of severing and tossing away the victim's head enables him to throw away the anger of all his bereavements. Perhaps you think this does not apply to you. Yet you recall the day you wife, driving you to your mother's funeral, turned left instead of right at the intersection and you had to scream at her so loud other drivers turned to look. When you tore off her head and threw it out the window they nodded, changed gears, drove away.

Herakles is a two-part man. Euripides wrote for him a two-part play. It breaks down in the middle and starts over again as does he. Wrecks and recharges its own form as he wrecks and recharges his own legend. Two-part: son of both Zeus (god) and Amphitryon (man) he is immortal, maybe — experts disagree and he himself is not sure. Container of uncontainable physical strength, he civilizes the world by vanquishing its monsters then returns home to annihilate his own wife and children. Herakles is a creature whose relation to time is a mess: if you might be immortal you live in all time and no time at the same time. You end up older than your own father and more helpless than your own children. Herakles is a creature whose relation to virtue is a mess: human virtue derives from human limitation and he seems to have none; gods' virtue does not exist. Euripides places him in the midst of an awareness of all this. But awareness for Herakles is no mental event, it comes through flesh. Herakles' flesh is a cliché. Perfect physical specimen, he cannot be beaten by any warrior, by any athlete, by any monster on the earth or under it. The question whether he can be beaten even by death remains open; it is a fact that he has gone down to Hades and come back alive; here is where the play starts. This becomes the turning point — the overturning point — of his cliché. ... in order to place you at the very heart of Herakles' dilemma, which is also Euripides' dilemma: Herakles has reached the boundary of his own myth, he has come to the end of his interestingness. Now that he's finished harrowing hell, will he settle back on the recliner and watch TV for the rest of time? From Euripides' point of view, the dilemma is practical. A man who can't die is no tragic hero. Immortality, even probable immortality, disqaulifies you from playing that role. (Gods, to their eternal chagrin, are comic.) [...] [...] It is as if the world broke off. Why did it break off? Because the myth ended. [...] [...] Hence the conceptual importance and symbolic possibilities of posture: you can read the plot of a play off the sequence of postures assumed by its characters. Up is winning, down is losing, bent is inbetween. [...] Herakles himself enters gloriously upright but is soon reduced to a huddled and broken form. His task in the last third of the play is to rise from this prostration, which he does with the help of Theseus. Euripides makes clear that Herakles exits at the end leaning on his friend. Herakles' reputation in myth and legend otherwise had been that of lonehand hero. Here begins a new Heraklean posture. Meanwhile throughout the play this image of collaborative heroism is embodied, movingly, in the tableau of the chorus. They are old men; they lean on sticks or on each other. All mortals come to this. Gods remain a problem. You will hear gods' names and see their consequences rawly displayed throughout the speeches and the action. You will sympathize with the chorus who cower before them and also with Herakles who decides not to believe in them — not to believe, that is, in the story of his own life. Bold move. Perhaps he is a tragic hero after all.

[pennyserenade]

For most of our lives we are all doctors to ourselves. Not when we're old, and everything feels so numb and dead, and decency and disgust forbid inquiry. And not when we are young, and the body is an unexamined ecstasy. Just the time in between. Mark them, in coffee shops, on buses, wincing, wondering, doctors to themselves, medicine men and faith healers, diagnosticians and anesthetists, silent consultants to themselves. Doctor yourself. But don't doctor others. Leave them alone. Let them be.

Martin Amis, Time's Arrow

[writingwithsnailsarch]

you can’t get it out of me, and with this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because it’s all I have, because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own. I’ll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting, walking around with this bullet inside me

'wishbone' by richard silken

[eepymemes]

“…hope has a way of making smart people do stupid things.”

— the invocations, krystal sutherland

[alexandramalbb]

"She saw the good in many people, but they didn't see her pain, they didn't see how she sinks like a ship in the depths . "

[vroomdoom]

The world.

So warm as the orange blue hue caresses the earth

Not important the speck, that witnesses it

They will only see this once, and for that reason shall it forever be important