When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.
We all have an old knot in the heart we wish to untie.
Seek the wisdom that will untie your knot. Seek the path that demands your whole being.
Know that every mother occasionally feels "at the end of her rope." When you reach the end of your rope, don't add guilt to your frustration. No one said motherhood was going to be easy.
Long ago in China, knot-makers tied string into buttons and frogs, and rope into bell pulls. There was one knot so complicated that it blinded the knot-maker. Finally an emperor outlawed this cruel knot, and the nobles could not order it anymore. If I had lived in China, I would have been an outlaw knot-maker.
It was like looking at a knot, knowing it was a knot, but not knowing how to untie it. I had no map for this life.
Your first book is the only one that matters. Perhaps a writer should write only that one. That is the one moment when you make the big leap; the opportunity to express yourself is offered that once, and you untie the knot within you then or never again.
Close your mouth,
block off your senses,
blunt your sharpness,
untie your knots,
soften your glare,
settle your dust.
This is the primal identity.
Champions get up! When you’re down to nothing, God is up to something! Champions get up! Focus your mind, pull yourself together. If you are at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on! You are a champion. You are more than a conqueror. Keep the faith. Cry if you must. You are still here. God is not through with you yet. You were born to win. Champions get up! You are a champion. You have GREATNESS within you!
A good mooring needs no knot, still no one can untie it.
O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t'untie.
With knot of one, the spell's begun. With knot of two, the spell be true. With knot of three, the spell is free. With knot of four, the power is stored. With knot of five, the spell with thrive. With knot of six, this spell I fix.
How the purer spirit is united to his clod, is a knot too hard for fallen humanity to untie.
Children and lunatics cut the Gordian knot which the poet spends his life patiently trying to untie.
I begin to love this little creature, and to anticipate his birth as a fresh twist to a knot, which I do not wish to untie.
Where is your heart? Is your heart with God? Is it with your own ego or your lust? Is it with your greed, your pride, envy, or your resentment? This is a time where you can go into yourself and ask: Where is my heart? Ramadan is a time to give the heart back to the One who possesses the hearts.