I Can T Find My Tune Quotes

My songs of life are so secret that I can't find my tune. ~ Debasish Mridha

Christian Faith
For me, being a Christian is all about true love. The Gospel of John instructs us, "Dear Friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love." I believe that first we need to love ourselves, even when we are told that we do not deserve love. Then we need to love others, especially those who have not been treated with love. And of course, we need to love Jesus. Love for Jesus can be the foundation for living a good life, a life full of compassion and joy. Loving Jesus is where I believe a Christian life starts, because that love spreads all around, to people, animals, and the world.

Animal Rights
During my life so far, animals have brought me joy and comfort when I thought that I would never find happiness. My bunny Neon taught me so much about unconditional love. This experience showed me that animals have souls deserving of love just as much as humans, and they can be some of the purest examples of God's love on Earth. I believe we can all show animals the compassion and love they deserve by choosing products that are fur-free and cruelty-free and by eating a vegan diet. Even people who aren't prepared to commit to a vegan lifestyle can make thoughtful everyday choices that reduce needless cruelty against animals.

Human Rights
I have myself been a victim of abuse, so I know how hopeless life can seem t ~ Shenita Etwaroo

For every person who closed the door in my face, thank you. For every person who told me I wasn't good enough, thank you. For every person who laughed and told me that I was wasting my time going to college, because I was going to fail, thank you. For every person who tried to break me, thank you. For every person who took my kindness for weakness, thank you. For every person who told me I was wasting time chasing my dreams because I would fail, thank you. It could of broke me. From the core of my heart, I thank you. I truly mean it, because if it weren't for each of you I wouldn't be who I am today. I wouldn't of spend hours and loss sleep studying. I wouldn't developed tough skin. You pushed me to think about what I "really" want out of life. You pushed me to master my craft. You helped me develop the drive, passion and determination. You pushed me to not wait for someone to believe in my vision, but to find a way to make things happen. I know you didn't "intend" to, but I thank you for teaching me to believe in myself! AND you taught me to TRUST in God and lean on my faith, not man. Thank You! ~ Yvonne Pierre

WINTER: Because I guess I like the idea that maybe someday I can find my place, you know? My niche. Somewhere people will keep me. ~ T.S. Joyce

In my contact with people I find that, as a rule, it is only the little, narrow people who live for themselves, who never read good books, who do not travel, who never open up their souls in a way to permit them to come into contact with other souls -- with the great outside world. No man whose vision is bounded by colour can come into contact with what is highest and best in the world. In meeting men, in many places, I have found that the happiest people are those who do the most for others; the most miserable are those who do the least. I have also found that few things, if any, are capable of making one so blind and narrow as race prejudice. I often say to our students, in the course of my talks to them on Sunday evenings in the chapel, that the longer I live and the more experience I have of the world, the more I am convinced that, after all, the one thing that is most worth living for -- and dying for, if need be -- is the opportunity of making some one else more happy and more useful. ~ Booker T. Washington

Although Daisy was the mildest-tempered of all the Bowmans, she was by no means a coward. And she would not accept defeat without a fight.
"You're forcing me to take desperate measures," she said.
His reply was very soft. "There's nothing you can do."
He had left her no choice.
Daisy turned the key in the lock and carefully withdrew it.
The decisive click was abnormally loud in the silence of the room.
Calmly Daisy tugged the top edge of her bodice away from her chest. She held the key above the narrow gap.
Matthew's eyes widened as he understood what she intended. "You wouldn't."
As he started around the dresser, Daisy dropped the key into her bodice, making certain it slipped beneath her corset. She sucked in her stomach and midriff until she felt the cold metal slide to her navel.
"Damn it!" Matthew reached her with startling speed. He reached out to touch her, then jerked his hands back as if he had just encountered open flame. "Take it out," he commanded, his face dark with outrage.
"I can't."
"I mean it, Daisy!"
"It's fallen too far down. I'll have to take my dress off."
It was obvious he wanted to kill her. But she could also feel the force of his longing. His lungs were working like bellows, and scorching heat radiated from his body.
His whisper contained the ferocity of a roar. "Don't do this to me."
Daisy waited patiently.
The next move was his.
He turned his back t ~ Lisa Kleypas

Heart beats fast

Colors and promises

How do be brave

How can I love when I'm afraid

To fall

But watching you stand alone

All of my doubt

Suddenly goes away somehow


One step closer


I have died everyday

waiting for you

Darling, don't be afraid

I have loved you for a

Thousand years

I'll love you for a

Thousand more


Time stands still

Beauty in all she is

I will be brave

I will not let anything
Take away

What's standing in front of me

Every breath,
Every hour has come to this



One step closer



I have died everyday

Waiting for you

Darling, don't be afraid

I have loved you for a

Thousand years

I'll love you for a
Thousand more


And all along I believed

I would find you

Time has brought

Your heart to me

I have loved you for a
Thousand years

I'll love you for a

Thousand more


One step closer


One step closer



I have died everyday

Waiting for you

Darling, don't be afraid,

I have loved you for a

T ~ Christina Perri

I stopped typing and started having a conversation about the blog post with my boyfriend. He said he'd liked the part where the narrator had explained that, while she was disturbed by the revelation that the Internet writer had a girlfriend – because that meant he wasn't the pure ethical person she'd perceived him to be via reading his literary criticism (which, !) –she was flattered and aroused that he was overcoming his principles in order to be with her.

Keith said, "It's like he can do no wrong. I thought that was nice."

I surprised myself by turning to him and shouting. "It's a SLAVE MENTALITY. IT'S A SLAVE MENTALITY!!!"

I tried to explain what I meant.

I talked about how Ellen Willis had a theory that women didn't know what their true sexuality was like, because they'd been conditioned to develop fantasies that enable them to act in a way that conforms to what men want from them, or what they think men want from them. And I thought about how Eileen Myles described the difference between having sex with men and having sex with women, how having sex with men was more about forcing yourself into what their idea of what sex was supposed to be. I told him that in my experience men do not often become suddenly charmed or intrigued by aspects of women that they have also perceived as off-putting or scary. Men, heterosexual men, don't tend to make excuses for women and find reasons to admire them despite and even slightly because of t ~ Emily Gould

What I know and I have learn is my books I can't tell you, but search out there and you will find. As a second think as you was here, you will be here and you are going to be here! ~ Deyth Banger

It was then that my gaze happened to fall on the bookcase, on the gap there, where the old paperback of "Nine Stories" had fallen flat. "Where's the thing?" I said.
"What thing?"
"The mesh. My mesh."
She shrugged. "I tossed it."
"Tossed it? Where? What do you mean?"
In the next moment I was in the kitchen, flipping open the lid of the trash can, only to find it empty. "You mean outside?" I shouted. "In the dumpster?"
When I came thundering back into the room, she still hadn't moved. "Jesus, what were you thinking? That was mine. I wanted that. I wanted to keep it."
Her lips barely moved. "It was dirty. ~ T.C. Boyle

Jay came over as soon as Violet called him; she didn't even have to give him a reason. He was there in less than ten minutes.
Of course, he'd heard about what had happened to Hailey. Everyone had. Buckley was a small town, and news traveled fast . . . especially bad news.
When he got there she told him what she was thinking about doing. It was nothing dangerous, at least as far as she was concerned, and she hadn't expected Jay to disagree with her about it. So when he did, she was more than a little bit surprised by his stubborn reaction.
"No way," he insisted, and his voice left little room for argument. "There is no way you're going to go around looking for this guy."
Violet was shocked by the tone of his voice, and by the harsh look he shot at her. She thought maybe he misunderstood her plan, so she tried to explain it to him again. "Jay, I'm only going to public places, like malls and parks, to see if I can get a feeling for who this guy is. Who knows, maybe he goes to places like that to find them, maybe he hands out there waiting to pick out a girl to . . . you know, kidnap." She tried to make her argument sound logical, but there was a desperate edge to her voice. "I'm not going out alone . . . you can go with me. We'll just hang out at different places to see if we can find him. And if we do, we'll call my uncle. It's not like we'd do anything stupid."
"'Anything stupid' would be going out to look for a killer. I won't let you go looking for t ~ Kimberly Derting

Whoever has been poor and lonely himself understands other poor and lonely people all the better. At least we should learn to understand our fellow beings, for we are powerless to stop their misery, their ignominy, their suffering, their weakness, and their death.
One day Frau Wilke whispered, as she stretched out her hand and arm to me: "Hold my hand. It's like ice."
I took her poor, old, thin hand in mine. It was cold as ice.
Frau Wilke crept about her home now like a ghost. Nobody visited her. For days she sat alone in her unheated room.
To be alone: icy, iron terror, foretaste of the grave, forerunner of unpitying death. Oh, whoever has been himself alone can never find another's loneliness strange.
I began to realize that Frau Wilke had nothing to eat. The lady who owned the house, and later took Frau Wilke's rooms, allowing me to stay in mine, brought, of course in pity for her forsaken state, every midday and evening a cup of broth, but not for long, and so Frau Wilke faded away. She lay there, no longer moving: and soon she was taken to the city hospital, where, after three days, she died.
One afternoon soon after her death, I entered her empty room, into which the good evening sun was shining, gladdening it with rose-bright, gay and soft colors. There I saw on the bed the things which the poor lady had till recently worn.... The strange sight of them made me unspeakably sad, and my peculiar state of mind made it seem to me almost t ~ Robert Walser

Gail and Lonny find me as I'm tugging on my shirt. I can't wait until my clothes start fitting normal again and aren't uncomfortably tight around the chest. I can't wait to go back to all the familiar comics T-shirts that don't fit me at this bulked-out size.

"Well?" Gail says. "How is it? How do you feel?"

"I can eat bacon again!" I yell, throwing up a fist. "All the bacon! Bacon or bust!"

"Yes!" Gail cheers. "After your promo shoots, you absolutely can!"

My cries of glee turn into an actual sob. I quickly shove my face into my arm. Thank god it's just Gail.

She pats me on the shoulder. "I know," she says. "But you'll get to have it soon, and then - "

"No." I swallow and shake my head, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "It's not the bacon." I mean, it is but it's also not. I'm overcome right now with everything. These last few months leading up to the shoot, the mounting pressure, the twenty-three days of high stress and rabbit food and Elle. All of it. "Why does it have to be so hard?"

"Getting a six pack?"

I give her a feeble smile. "I am more than my body, thank you. ~ Ashley Poston

Who might this young man be?"
In an instant I sorted through every possibly explanation for Sage's presence, but judging by the way Mom was looking at him, I knew she already had it in her head that he was a romantic prospect, and she'd go on believing that even if I said he was purely a homeschool friend. And if she thought I was interested in him, no political luncheon would stop her from sitting us down and grilling Sage in front of everyone so she could dig up any deal breakers before I had to find them out the hard way. She'd probably even encourage her guests to join in, and I knew they'd be happy to do it-I'd seen it happen to Rayna.
The problem was, I couldn't spend all day hanging out at Mom's lunch. I needed to go through Dad's things, and I wanted to finish before the Israeli minister and his Secret Service protection left the house open for any not-so-welcome visitors to return.
"This is Larry Steczynski! You can call him Sage. He's my new boyfriend!" Rayna suddenly chirped, threading her arm through Sage's and giving him a squeeze. To his credit, Sage looked only slightly surprised.
Just one more thing to add to the long list of reasons I love Rayna. She knew exactly what I'd been thinking and had found the one answer that would leave me completely off the hook.
"Really!" Mom said meaningfully. "Then we should talk." She turned to the group and asked, "Gentleman?"
Without hesitation, all the senators and the Israeli minister agreed t ~ Hilary Duff

. . . I bet I'm beginning to make some parents nervous - here I am, bragging of being a dropout, and unemployable, and about to make a pitch for you to follow your creative dreams, when what parents want is for their children to do well in their field, to make them look good, and maybe also to assemble a tasteful fortune . . .

But that is not your problem. Your problem is how you are going to spend this one odd and precious life you have been issued. Whether you're going to live it trying to look good and creating the illusion that you have power over people and circumstances, or whether you are going to taste it, enjoy it, and find out the truth about who you are . . .

I do know you are not what you look like, or how much you weigh, or how you did in school, or whether you start a job next Monday or not. Spirit isn't what you do, it's . . . well, again, I don't actually know. They probably taught this junior year at Goucher; I should've stuck around. But I know that you feel best when you're not doing much - when you're in nature, when you're very quiet or, paradoxically, listening to music . . .

We can see Spirit made visible when people are kind to one another, especially when it's a really busy person, like you, taking care of the needy, annoying, neurotic person, like you. In fact, that's often when we see Spirit most brightly . . .

In my twenties I devised a school of relaxation that has unfortunately fallen out of favor in t ~ Anne Lamott

Hunding, stop skulking in the hallway and get in here."
The bellhop poked his head around the doorway. "I wasn't skulking," he said defensively. "I was lingering."
"Come in. I need you to do three things. One: Find a way to track Thor's FitnessKnut. Report his whereabouts at all times."
"Won't he just circle the worlds in order?"
I made a face. "Thor's sense of direction is terrible. His path will likely be erratic. Moving on. Two: Have squads of einherjar launch surprise attacks on the Bifrost. I want to know that Heimdall is on guard."
"Very good, sir. And the third thing?"
"Inform the thanes that as of tomorrow, I will be unavailable for a while." I transformed my appearance from a rugged one-eyed god of wisdom to a beautiful two-eyed woman clad in chain mail. "I will be living with my Valkyries to decide for myself which of them deserves to be captain."
Hunding raised a hairy eyebrow. "An idea from Utgard-Loki, Lord Odin?"
"Wisdom can be gleaned from any source if one only looks hard enough." I paused, thinking. "Let's put that on a T-shirt. And, Hunding?"
"My lord?"
I transformed back into my true form. "Download cute baby goat videos to my phablet. I must learn what all the fuss is about. ~ Rick Riordan

As much as I can, I avoid using the word "spiritual" altogether. I find it neither useful nor necessary nor appropriate in my work at the hospital bringing mindfulness into the mainstream of medicine and healthcare, nor in other settings in which we work[.] [T]o my mind, the vocabulary of spirituality creates more practical problems than it solves. [...] The concept of spirituality can narrow our thinking rather extend it.
[...] Perhaps ultimately, spiritual means experiencing wholeness and interconnectedness directly, a seeing that individuality and the totality are interwoven, that nothing is separate or extraneous, If you see in this way, then everything becomes spiritual in its deepest sense. Doing science is spiritual. So is washing the dishes. It is the inner experience which counts. And you have to be there for it. ~ Jon Kabat-Zinn

When God walks, he leaves a trail of stardust in his wake.
When I walk, I have to leave a trail of breadcrumbs so that I can find my way home. ~ Anthony T. Hincks

Why do we cry when somebody die, we can't bring him, back we just lose time crying and feeling miserable and after few days we just find that we can't bring him!

(Note: I have Written a story about my dog which died, in the series of The Life Of One KId) ~ Deyth Banger

Instructions for a Broken Heart
I will find a bare patch of earth, somewhere where the ruins have fallen away, somewhere where I can fit both hands, and I will dig a hole.
And into that hole, I will scream you, I will dump all the shadow places of my heart - the times you didn't call when you said you'd call, the way you only half listened to my poems, your eyes on people coming through the swinging door of the café - not on me - your ears, not really turned toward me. For all those times I started to tell you about the fight with my dad or when my grandma died, and you said something about your car, something about the math test you flunked, as an answer. I will scream into that hole the silence of dark nights after you'd kissed me, how when I asked if something was wrong - and something was obviously so very wrong - how you said "nothing," how you didn't tell me until I had to see it in the dim light of a costume barn - so much wrong. I will scream all of it.
Then I will fill it in with dark earth, leave it here in Italy, so there will be an ocean between the hole and me.
Because then I can bring home a heart full of the light patches. A heart that sees the sunset you saw that night outside of Taco Bell, the way you pointed out that it made the trees seem on fire, a heart that holds the time your little brother fell on his bike at the fairgrounds and you had pockets full of bright colored Band-Aids and you kissed the bare skin of his knees. I will take t ~ Kim Culbertson

Andre, I won't ever try to change you, because I've never tried to change anybody. If I could change somebody, I'd change myself. But I know I can give you structure and a blueprint to achieve what you want. There's a difference between a plow horse and a racehorse. You don;t treat them the same. You hear all this talk about treating people equally, and I'm not sure equal means the same. As far as I'm concerned, you're a racehorse, and I'll always treat you accordingly. I'll be firm, but fair. I'll lead, never push. I'm not one of those people who expresses or articulates feelings very well, but from now on, just know this: It's on, man. It is on. You know what I'm saying? We're in a fight, and you can count on me until the last man is standing. Somewhere up there is a star with your name on it. I might not be able to help you find it, but I've got pretty strong shoulders, and you can stand on my shoulders while you're looking for that star. You hear? For as long as you want. Stand on my shoulders and reach, man. Reach. ~ Andre Agassi

[T]wo of you can be no match for the three giants, I will find you, if I can, a third brother, who will take on himself the third share of the fight, and the preparation ... I will show him to you in a glass, and, when he comes, you will know him at once. If he will share your endeavors, you must teach him all you know, and he will repay you well, in present song, and in future deeds.'
She opened the door of a curious old cabinet that stood in the room. On the inside of this door was an oval convex mirror ... we at length saw reflected the place where we stood, and the old dame seated in her chair ... at the feet of the dame lay a young man ... weeping.
'Surely this youth will not serve our ends,' said I, 'for he weeps.'
The old woman smiled. 'Past tears are present strength,'said she. ~ George MacDonald

Probably I share a lot of stuff I haven't count them exactly but probably you understand the few. Why???
Let me guess that you don't understand horror you take it like horror nothing else, I can tell you horror isn't really a horror. It's a lesson, but can you find it in this puzzle?? Or riddle? ~ Deyth Banger

Forgetting herself entirely, Pandora let her head loll back against Gabriel's shoulder. "What kind of glue does Ivo use?" she asked languidly.
"Glue?" he echoed after a moment, his mouth close to her temple, grazing softly.
"For his kites."
"Ah." He paused while a wave retreated. "Joiner's glue, I believe."
"That's not strong enough," Pandora said, relaxed and pensive. "He should use chrome glue."
"Where would he find that?" One of his hands caressed her side gently.
"A druggist can make it. One part acid chromate of lime to five parts gelatin."
Amusement filtered through his voice. "Does your mind ever slow down, sweetheart?"
"Not even for sleeping," she said.
Gabriel steadied her against another wave. "How do you know so much about glue?"
The agreeable trance began to fade as Pandora considered how to answer him.
After her long hesitation, Gabriel tilted his head and gave her a questioning sideways glance. "The subject of glue is complicated, I gather."
I'm going to have to tell him at some point, Pandora thought. It might as well be now.
After taking a deep breath, she blurted out, "I design and construct board games. I've researched every possible kind of glue required for manufacturing them. Not just for the construction of the boxes, but the best kind to adhere lithographs to the boards and lids. I've registered a patent for the first game, and soon I intend to apply for two more."
Gabriel absorbed t ~ Lisa Kleypas

I'm staying right here," grumbled the rat. "I haven't the slightest interest in fairs."
"That's because you've never been to one," remarked the old sheep . "A fair is a rat's paradise. Everybody spills food at a fair. A rat can creep out late at night and have a feast. In the horse barn you will find oats that the trotters and pacers have spilled. In the trampled grass of the infield you will find old discarded lunch boxes containing the foul remains of peanut butter sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, cracker crumbs, bits of doughnuts, and particles of cheese. In the hard-packed dirt of the midway, after the glaring lights are out and the people have gone home to bed, you will find a veritable treasure of popcorn fragments, frozen custard dribblings, candied apples abandoned by tired children, sugar fluff crystals, salted almonds, popsicles,partially gnawed ice cream cones,and the wooden sticks of lollypops. Everywhere is loot for a rat--in tents, in booths, in hay lofts--why, a fair has enough disgusting leftover food to satisfy a whole army of rats."
Templeton's eyes were blazing.
" Is this true?" he asked. "Is this appetizing yarn of yours true? I like high living, and what you say tempts me."
"It is true," said the old sheep. "Go to the Fair Templeton. You will find that the conditions at a fair will surpass your wildest dreams. Buckets with sour mash sticking to them, tin cans containing particles of tuna fish, greasy bags stuffed with rotten..."
"T ~ E.B. White

True love is sufficient to itself; it needs no special title, no authority … [I]t is … the original source of love, out of which the love of Christ himself arose. … Are we to love each other because Christ loved us? Such love would be an affected, imitative love. Can we truly love each other only if we love Christ? … Shall I love Christ more than mankind? Is not such love a chimerical love? … What ennobled Christ was love; … he was not the proprietor of love … The idea of love is an independent idea: I do not first deduce it from the life of Christ; on the contrary, I revere that life only because I find it accordant with the … idea of love. ~ Ludwig Feuerbach

I didn't watch much TV as a kid and I don' t watch it now. I don' t find anything beautiful or unique to the medium, and the only thing you can do on TV that you can't do in film is make a continuing story - which is so cool! ~ David Lynch

What counts as religious or secular in any given context is a function of different configurations of power. The question then becomes why such essentialist constructions are so common. I argue that, in what are called "Western" societies, the attempt to create a transhistorical and transcultural concept of religion that is essentially prone to violence is one of the foundational legitimating myths of the liberal nation-state. The myth of religious violence helps to construct and marginalise a religious other, prone to fanaticism, to contrast with the rational, peace-keeping, secular subject. This myth can and is used in domestic politics to legitimate the marginalisation of certain types of practices and groups labeled religious, while underwriting the nation-state's monopoly on its citizens' willingness to sacrifice and kill. In foreign policy, the myth of religious violence serves to cast nonsecular social orders, especially Muslim societies, in the role of the villain. THEY have not yet learned to remove the dangerous influence of religion from political life. THEIR violence is therefore irrational and fanatical. OUR violence, being secular, is rational, peace making, and sometimes regrettably necessary to contain their violence. We find ourselves obliged to bomb them into liberal democracy. ~ William T. Cavanaugh

I know how it feels to be a biker, and not a man. I know how it feels when you find the person who makes you realize you can be both. ~ T.M. Frazier

I couldn't find the words to say what I wanted. Sometimes, when your heart gets so full, it takes away your voice and all you can do it hold on for dear life. ~ T.J. Klune

When we are clear enough about our own point of view, we can find help in the methods of Eastern Christianity or in the ways of the Far East, perhaps by consulting the I Ching or through mandala contemplation; we may even find help in the ways of shamanism or Islam. If we are clear about where we stand and the direction we must take, such methods may be useful in order to follow our own way to the end. ~ Morton T. Kelsey

As the virtual world of electronic communication becomes the world many of us inhabit all the time, in turning to imaginative literature we may not be seeking mere reassurance nor be impelled by mere nostalgia. To enter with heart and mind into the world of the imagination may be to head deliberately and directly toward, or back toward, engagement with the real world. In one of T. S. Eliot's poems a bird sings, "Mankind cannot bear very much reality." I've always thought that bird was mistaken, or was talking only about some people. I find it amazing how much of the real world most of us can endure. Not only endure, but need, desire, crave. Reality is life. Where we suffocate is in the half-life of unreality, untruth, imitation, fakery, the almost-true that is not true. To be human is to live both within and beyond the narrow band of what-happens-now, in the vast regions of the past and the possible, the known and the imagined: our real world, our true Now. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Something I constantly notice is that unembarrassed joy has become rarer. Joy today is increasingly saddled with moral and ideological burdens, so to speak. When someone rejoices, he is afraid of offending against solidarity with the many people who suffer. I don't have any right to rejoice, people think, in a world where there is so much misery, so much injustice.

I can understand that. There is a moral attitude at work here. But this attitude is nonetheless wrong. The loss of joy does not make the world better - and, conversely, refusing joy for the sake of suffering does not help those who suffer. The contrary is true. The world needs people who discover the good, who rejoice in it and thereby derive the impetus and courage to do good. Joy, then, does not break with solidarity. When it is the right kind of joy, when it is not egotistic, when it comes from the perception of the good, then it wants to communicate itself, and it gets passed on. In this connection, it always strikes me that in the poor neighborhoods of, say, South America, one sees many more laughing happy people than among us. Obviously, despite all their misery, they still have the perception of the good to which they cling and in which they can find encouragement and strength.

In this sense we have a new need for that primordial trust which ultimately only faith can give. That the world is basically good, that God is there and is good. That it is good to live and to be a human being. T ~ Benedict XVI