A Quote by Ellen G. White
If physical exercise were combined with mental exertion, the blood would be quickened in its circulation, the action of the heart would be more perfect, impure matter would be thrown off, and new life and vigor would be experienced in every part of the body.
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I would not exchange the sorrows of my heart for the joys of the multitude. And I would not have the tears that sadness makes to flow from my every part turn into laughter. I would that my life remain a tear and a smile.
This is what happens to man in death. He puts off his overcoat, or what we call the physical, the gross body, and he is clothed in what, for the time being, I would call the astral body. The man continues to be the same, even as I would continue to be the same, if I took off this shawl. I would then appear to you in my shirt, but I would continue to be the same man.
Kingsley watched her disappear from the room, wondering if his heart would break. Logic informed him that of course it would not. The heart was no more than a muscle, a pump which distributed blood about the body.
Great art would have 'head': it would have interesting intellectual ideas and concepts. It would have 'heart' in that it would have passion and heart and soul. And it would have 'hand' in that it would be greatly crafted.
If I had my life to live over, I would try to make more mistakes. I would relax. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I know of very few things that I would take seriously. I would be less hygienic. I would go more places. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice cream and less spinach. I would have more actual troubles and fewer imaginary troubles.
So my heart goes out to them. Figuratively. I would never actually entrust my heart to scientists—they'd probably implant it in a baboon. And a baboon with my heart would be practically unstoppable. Baboon strength and agility combined with my determination and media savvy? It would be a threat to all of humanity.
After the song [for sausage Party] was finally done, we didn't have enough time, but we thought it would be fun. It also would've thrown it off a bit, because we really are doing more of an homage to Pixar, and if we filled it with songs, it would've felt more like Disney. And we had an experience, while we were making it, that going too Disney made it too weird.
Imagine if all of life were determined by majority rule. Every meal would be a pizza. Every pair of pants, even those in a Brooks Brothers suit, would be stone-washed denim. Celebrity diet and exercise books would be the only thing on the shelves at the library. And - since women are a majority of the population - we'd all be married to Mel Gibson.
Even if someone knew the entire physical history of the world, and every mental event were identical with a physical, it would notfollow that he could predict or explain a single mental event (so described, of course).
If we were immortal, then life would be meaningless, because nothing would be of consequence. Certainly one way of taking the edge off the prospect of our inevitable demise is to ponder how much more horrendous it would be if we persisted in perpetuity. And yet, if you told me I had X number of days left to live, I would lobby for X plus one.
Impurities are constantly and imperceptibly passing from the body, through the pores, and if the surface of the skin is not kept in a healthy condition, the system is burdened with impure matter....and if the garments worn are not frequently cleansed...the pores of the skin absorb again the waste matter thrown off. The impurities of the body... are taken back into the blood, and forced upon the internal organs.
A little more grace, a motive made pure, a few truths tenderly told, a heart softened, a character subdued, a life consecrated, would restore the right action of the mental mechanism, and make manifest the movement of body and soul in accord with God.
Every night in my dreams, a man appeared from the darkest recesses of my mind, as if he'd been waiting for me to fall asleep. His mouth, full, masculine, would sear my flesh. His tongue, like flames across my skin, would send tiny sparks quaking through my body. Then he would dip south, and the heavens would open and a chorus singing hallelujah would ring out in perfect harmony.
I wish the air were pure oxygen, and then as it says in our chemistry book, our life would sweep through its fevered burning course in a few hours and we would live in a perfect delirium of excitement and would die vibrating with passion, for anything would be better than this lazy sluggish life.
Sometimes it wasn't even when we were knocking on doors, it would be, the phone would ring and somebody would say, "God told me to do this," and it would be exactly the perfect timing to help us with the next step of the filmmaking.
I don't have kids, but in the future, if I ever do, I would want my child to be happy no matter what: gay, lesbian, bi - whatever. To see a smile on my child's face would be the only thing that would matter and keep my blood pumping.
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