A Quote by Curt Mega
You are loved. You are valuable. You are crafted with beauty and purpose. I treasure you and this world needs you. There is no one like you. You don’t need to look like the rest or talk like the rest or be like the rest. This worlds needs you as you are. There is no truth in the lie that you don’t matter. You are loved. You were put here for a reason. You were not an accident. You are not a mistake.
Related Quotes
You were loved because God loves, period. God loved you, and everyone, not because you believed in certain things, but because you were a mess, and lonely, and His or Her child. God loved you no matter how crazy you felt on the inside, no matter what a fake you were; always, even in your current condition, even before coffee. God loves you crazily, like I love you...like a slightly overweight auntie, who sees only your marvelousness and need.
They said there was no rest for the wicked. In fact, there was rest neither for the virtuous nor the wicked, nor for guys like Billy, who were uncommitted regarding the whole idea of virtue versus wickedness and who were just trying to do their jobs.
Rest, rest, rest, rest, rest. Nutrition is obviously very important, but rest is equally important. At rest is when your body is trying to recover.
I think maybe there's a part of me that needs adversity from the rest of the world in order to feel motivated to want to prove people wrong. I need people to be like, 'What is this weirdo doing?'
She looked around herself, disoriented, like she’d forgotten we were at lunch. Like she’d forgotten we were even at school-surprised that we were not alone in some private place. I understood that feeling exactly. It was hard to remember the rest of the world when I was with her.
The truth is my idea has been to always stay at Barcelona and see out the rest of my career here. Like I always say, one doesn't know what can happen in the future, but if it were up to me to decide, I would stay at Barcelona for the rest of my career.
Lords are gold and knights steel, but two links can't make a chain. You also need silver and iron and lead, tin and copper and bronze and all the rest, and those are farmers and smiths and merchants and the like. A chain needs all sorts of metals, and a land needs all sorts of people.
There were profound reasons for his attachment to the sea: he loved it because as a hardworking artist he needed rest, needed to escape from the demanding complexity of phenomena and lie hidden on the bosom of the simple and tremendous; because of a forbidden longing deep within him that ran quite contrary to his life's task and was for that very reason seductive, a longing for the unarticulated and immeasurable, for eternity, for nothingness. To rest in the arms of perfection is the desire of any man intent upon creating excellence; and is not nothingness a form of perfection?
To finance this trade deficit, the U.S. has to borrow from the rest of the world or sell American assets like stocks, businesses, and real estate to the rest of the world.
People question what I thought of Oxford. Students used to talk about the 'Oxford bubble' because the place can make you feel cut off from the rest of the world. I would forget there were places like London that were not centred round libraries and essays.
On the roads, I can see truth revealed whole without thought or reason. There I experience the sudden understanding that comes unasked, unbidden. I simply rest, rest within myself, rest within the pure rhythm of my running. And I wait.
I work on a TV show I love, I have the opportunity to do movies with actors I respect, and I'm in love with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, who pushes me and excites me. There's this fighter in me that kind of needs to be put to rest a little bit. I don't need to be so tough to protect myself.
I am a firm believer that every few years one needs to shake one's life through a sieve, like a miner in the Yukon. The gold nuggets remain. The rest falls through like the soft earth it is.
The first three years, I don't think I would leave my hotel room outside of tennis, because I was like, 'I got to rest, I got to rest.' It was like sort of a paranoia to do everything as best as I can.
For God so loved the world, that whosoever believes in him will, from that point on, be considered weired by the rest of the world, which means the church should be more like a zoo than a tomb of identical mummies.
The intellectual is called on the carpet... Don't you conceal something? You talk a language which is suspect. You don't talk like the rest of us, like the man in the street, but rather like a foreigner who does not belong here. We have to cut you down to size, expose your tricks, purge you.
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