she thought it was the misfortune of poetry, to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoyed it completely; and that the strong feelings which alone could estimate it truly, were the very feelings which ought to taste it but sparingly.

There was nothing worse than comparing yourself to another woman because there was always going to be something that they had that you didn't.

This is beyond understanding." said the king. "You are the wisest man alive. You know what is preparing. Why do you not make a plan to save yourself?

Can you look without the voice in your head commenting, drawing conclusions, comparing, or trying to figure something out?

"Comparing + Complaining about how bad it is = can lead to bad processing for mental health.

We all face challenges; mine humbled, built, strengthened, and preparing me for the greatness yet to come, I'm grateful

[Christ] will come again. But we must look to Scripture, not human thought, for our guide to preparing.

Choose to stay away from people who would not let you have your moment. They will talk about their moment in your moments. They will be like yeah you bought a car but my car. You have a house but my house. They don't let you be and enjoy what you have without them comparing or mentioning what they have that is better than yours.

Why is it that we spend so much of our time preparing for when we can do what we want, instead of just doing what we want right now?

Keep me rather in this cage, and feed me sparingly, if you dare. Anything that brings me closer to illness and the edge of death makes me more faithful. It is only when you make me suffer that I feel safe and secure. You should never have agreed to be a God for me if you were afraid to assume the duties of a God, and we know that they are not as tender as all that. You have already seen me cry. Now you must learn to relish my tears.

Comparing what we're looking for misses the point. It's wanting to know that makes us matter. Otherwise we're going out the way we came in. That's why you can't believe in the afterlife, Valentine. Believe in the after, by all means, but not the life. Believe in God, the soul, the spirit, the infinite, believe in angels if you like, but not in the great celestial get-together for an exchange of views. If the answers are in the back of the book I can wait, but what a drag. Better to struggle on knowing that failure is final.

The artist, like the God of creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails

I was not sure where I was going, and I could not see what I would do when I got [there]. But you saw further and clearer than I, and you opened the seas before my ship, whose track led me across the waters to a place I had never dreamed of, and which you were even then preparing to be my rescue and my shelter and my home.

He was there alone with himself, collected, tranquil, adoring, comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the skies, moved in the darkness by the visible splendors of the constellations, and the invisible splendor of God, opening his soul to the thoughts which fall from the Unknown. In such moments, offering up his heart at the hour when the flowers of night inhale their perfume, lighted like a lamp in the center of the starry night, expanding his soul in ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation, he could not himself perhaps have told what was passing in his own mind; he felt something depart from him, and something descend upon him, mysterious interchanges of the depths of the soul with the depths of the universe.

Sometimes love finds you when it's ready. And when you're ready too. How that happens is anybody's guess. Love is the great mystery stew, its secrets well kept, its ingredients known to providence alone. While both people are being prepared, marinated, skewered,cooked to readiness in the fires of life, the cosmic alchemist is turning the pot, reverently preparing the base for the lovers who will meld into it. Only God knows when the stew is ready to be served. Divine timing, Divine dining?

Class is a bubble, formed by privilege, shaping and manipulating your concept of reality. But it can at least be brought to mind; acknowledged comprehended, even atoned for through transformative action. By comparing your privilege with that of others you may be able to modify both your world and the worlds outside your world - if the will is there to do it. Suffering is not like that. Suffering has an absolution relation to the suffering individual - it cannot be easily mediated by a third term like 'privilege'.

As far as I can tell, there are two basic (kissing) rules: 1. Don't bite anything without permission. 2. The human tongue is like wasabi: it's very powerful, and should be used sparingly.

We become so absorbed in our flaws and faults that we forget that it is better to be a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without. To have flaws is beauty in itself, a fact so frightening that we hurry to hide them from sight and tarnish the whole in the process of comparing ourselves to others.

Stop comparing yourself to others. Always strive to improve yourself to become better today than you were yesterday to serve those around you and the world.

If you spend your life sparing people's feelings and feeding their vanity, you get so you can't distinguish what should be respected in them.

Stop comparing yourself to other people, just choose to be happy and live your own life.

Even if one is interested only in one's own society which is one's prerogative one can understand that society much better by comparing it with others.

With science fiction I think we are preparing ourselves for contact with them whoever they may be.

It is then by those shadows of the hoary Past and their fantastic silhouettes on the external screen of every religion and philosophy that we can by checking them as we go along and comparing them trace out finally the body that produced them.