There is a formula that I’ve seen proven true in my work and my life: to the degree that we treasure our Core Gifts (yes, treasure them; dispassionate acceptance isn’t enough) we attract caring, thoughtful people who are also (miracle of miracles) attracted to us. And, equally amazing, we become more attracted to people who are good for us, and less interested in people who diminish us or leave us feeling insecure.
— Ken Page, Deeper Dating, p.19
If you can view your mind as your house, I can teach you to control how much space you rent to your wounds and grievances. You are the proprietor, and you set the rent. Each of us decides who our tenants are and the conditions of the lease. What kind of accommodations do we want to give our wounds and grievances?
We can rent our grievances the master bedroom and build them a hot tub out back. We can give them a great lease with terrific terms that never expire, or we can grant them only a day-to-day tenancy. We can allow them to put their stuff in all the rooms of the house, or we can restrict them to a small room in the back. In other words, we need to ask: How much time do we spend thinking about our hurts and disappointments? And, When we think about them, how much intensity is there?
— Dr. Fred Luskin, Forgive for Good, p. 8
To have borne broken hearts and seen such broken lives around the world is what gave us a shot at becoming mercy people.
— Anne Lamott, Hallelujah Anyway, p. 49
I believe hell is very real, yet I also believe that a God who is love is also real, and that this God gets the last word.
— Heath Bradley, Flames of Love, p. 1
Hannah tasted salty tears of infertility. Elijah howled for God to take his life. David asked his soul a thousand times why it was so downcast. God does great things through the greatly wounded. God sees the broken as the best and He sees the best in the broken and He calls the wounded to be the world changers.
— Ann Voskamp, The Broken Way, p. 24
Giving thanks is a way of gathering joy. Imagine yourself in a meadow chasing butterflies with a net. Though the meadow is full of spiders, you don’t notice these, neither are you concerned with weeds or scraps of litter. You aren’t collecting spiders or weeds or litter. You’re collecting butterflies, and your sole focus is on capturing those brightly colored flecks of beauty.
Joy requires single-mindedness. The world is full of reasons to be sad or distressed, but beauty and goodness also abound. Which to look at? What you see is what you get.
— Mike Mason, Champagne for the Soul, p. 49-50
We do violence to ourselves when we focus on what we are missing or lacking rather than appreciating the gifts we have been given. You don’t have to follow a particular religion or even any religion at all to appreciate the marvels and mysteries of the world — they are there for all of us. By bringing more appreciation into your life, you can change your attitude and your perspective on the world.
— Arun Gandhi, The Gift of Anger, p. 220-221
Collect books, even if you don’t plan on reading them right away. Nothing is more important than an unread library.
— Austin Kleon, Steal Like an Artist, p. 20
Teach her that to love is not only to give but also to take. This is important because we give girls subtle cues about their lives — we teach girls that a large component of their ability to love is their ability to sacrifice their selves. We do not teach this to boys. Teach her that to love she must give of herself emotionally but she must also expect to be given.
— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions, p. 56
Cause-and-effect assumes history marches forward, but history is not an army. It is a crab scuttling sideways, a drip of soft water wearing away stone, an earthquake breaking centuries of tension. Sometimes one person inspires a movement, or her words do decades later; sometimes a few passionate people change the world; sometimes they start a mass movement and millions do; sometimes those millions are stirred by the same outrage or the same ideal, and change comes upon us like a change of weather. All that these transformations have in common is that they begin in the imagination, in hope. To hope is to gamble. It’s to bet on the future, on your desires, on the possibility that an open heart and uncertainty is better than gloom and safety. To hope is dangerous, and yet it is the opposite of fear, for to live is to risk.
— Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark, p. 3-4