A Quote by Paulo Coelho
Everything, absolutely everything on this earth makes sense, and even the smallest things are worthy of our consideration.
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Usually the song is totally done. I'll do absolutely everything, backing vocals - everything - but in gibberish. A lot of times its based on the mumblings that I sing. Even though I sing in gibberish, it kind of makes sense.
The aim of particle physics is to understand what everything’s made of, and how everything sticks together. By everything I mean me and you, the Earth, the Sun, the 100 billion suns in our galaxy and the 100 billion galaxies in the observable universe. Absolutely everything.
When we think of all the things we want to do with our other half the answer should be simple; we should want to do absolutely everything with them. We should want to experience everything, feel everything, see everything with no one but them by our sides. When we look back on our lives it's not the things we did do with them that we'll regret, it's the things we didn't do.
Whatever we have done with our lives makes us what we are when we die. And everything, absolutely everything, counts.
Though everything else may appear shallow and repulsive, even the smallest task in music is so absorbing, and carries us so far away from town, country, earth, and all worldly things, that it is truly a blessed gift of God.
Therefore, we know about God that He loves and shows pity on His creatures, and also that He is the source of wisdom and knows how to govern everything concerning us. Nothing is impossible for Him, but everything is subject to His will. We must also realize that everything He does is for our benefit and we must accept it with thankfulness...as from a benefactor and a good lord even if is troublesome. For everything is done with right judgment, and God, Who is merciful, does not overlook even the smallest sadness that we suffer.
I am not capable of doing big things, but I want to do everything, even the smallest things, for the greater glory of God.
Truth usually makes no sense. If your desire is for everything to make perfect sense, then you should take refuge in fiction. In fiction, all threads tie together in a neat bow and everything moves smoothly from one point to the next to the next. In real life, though... nothing makes sense. Bad things happen to good people. The pious die young while the wicked live until old age. War, famine, pestilence, death all occur randomly and senselessly and leave us more often than not scratching our heads and hurling the question 'why?' into a void that provides no answers.
Looking back and thinking about the past and what I've done makes no sense - I'd like to keep achieving things. Then, when I retire, I will appreciate everything that's happened and everything I've achieved.
Writing makes everything else in my life okay; it makes everything make sense.
Prayer changes things. It moves in the atmosphere. The bible says whatsoever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatsoever you loose on earth, you loose in heaven. And I loose it. I speak into existence everything I want. And I bind it. And I cast out everything that is not right. So absolutely. My faith is all that I had, all I have and all I will have to hold on to.
Our bones, flesh and blood are made up of the metals, liquids and minerals of the earth and everything on this planet is made up of the same things. As humans we have being, so everything on the earth does too in our culture, because we are made of the same thing.
The environment is everything that makes up our surroundings and affects our ability to live on the earth - the air we breathe, the water that covers most of the earth's surface, the plants and animals around us, the overall condition of our planet, and much more.
What good does it do me, after all, if an ever-watchful authority keeps an eye out to ensure that my pleasures will be tranquil and races ahead of me to ward off all danger, sparing me the need even to think about such things, if that authority, even as it removes the smallest thorns from my path, is also absolute master of my liberty and my life; if it monopolizes vitality and existence to such a degree that when it languishes, everything around it must also languish; when it sleeps, everything must also sleep; and when it dies, everything must also perish?
The habit of looking for beauty in everything makes us notice the shortcomings of things, our sense, hungry for complete satisfaction, misses the perfection it demands.
I'd rather speak as a student of philosophy. Philosophically it makes no sense, absolutely makes no sense. Why should people inherit evil things when their memories could contain and should invoke good things?
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