The surest guide to the correctness of the path that women take is joy in the struggle. Revolution is the festival of the oppressed. For a long time there may be no perceptible reward for women other than their new sense of purpose and integrity. Joy does not mean riotous glee, but it does mean the purposive employment of energy in a self-chosen enterprise. It does mean pride and confidence. It does mean communication and cooperation with others based on delight in their company and your own. To be emancipated from helplessness and need and walk freely upon the earth that is your birthright. To refuse hobbles and deformity and take possession of your body and glory in its power, accepting its own laws of loveliness. To have something to desire, something to make, something to achieve, and at last something genuine to give. To be freed from guilt and shame and the tireless self-discipline of women. To stop pretending and dissembling, cajoling and manipulating, and begin to control and sympathize. To claim the masculine virtues of magnanimity and generosity and courage. It goes much further than equal pay for equal work, for it ought to revolutionise the conditions of work completely. It does not understand the phrase 'equality of opportunity', for it seems that the opportunities will have to be utterly changed and women's souls changed so that they desire opportunity instead of shrinking from it.

Let it be a footprint that you ones lived!Let it be a footprint that though you were not knocked down by failure!Let it be a footprint that you were stronger than life hurdles!Let it be a footprint that your speech was awesome!Let it be a footprint that you left a distinctive mark on minds!Let it be a footprint that you were the best father ever!Let it be a footprint that a great mother once lived !Let it be a footprint that once lived a humble yet an assertive you!Let it be a footprint that you stood for what is just regardless of the odds!Let it be a footprint that you fed the hungry! Let it be a footprint that you protected the vulnerable!Let it be a footprint that you lived for Christ!Let it be a footprint that you were courageous and not a coward!Let it be a footprint that a great worker is gone!Let it be a footprint that a good heart is gone!Let it be a footprint that you were a noble accomplisher !Let it be a footprint that you knew the essence of time!Let it be a footprint that you knew when to ignore and when to respond!Let it be a footprint! Let it be a footprint! Let it be a footprint!Let it be a footprint that though you are leaving, you are living!Let it be a footprint that you shall be missed!What footprint are you leaving behind?

I had always thought that life was the actual thing, the natural thing, and that death was simply the end of living. Now, in this lifeless place, I saw with a terrible clarity that death was the constant, death was the base, and life was only a short, frgile dream. I was dead already. I had been born death, and what I thought was my life was just a game death let me play as it waited to take me. . . Death has an opposite, but the opposite is not mere living. It is not courage or faith or human will. The opposite of death is love. How had I missed that? How does anyone miss that? Love is our only weapon. Only love can turn mere life into a miracle, and draw precious meaning from suffering and fear. For a brief, magical moment, all my fears lifted, and I knew that I would not let death control me. I would walk through the godforsaken country that separated me from my home with love and hope in my heart. I wouuld walk until I had walked all the life out of me, and when I fell I would die that much closer to my father.

1. Who is a Death Warrior?Anyone can be a Death Warrior, not just someone who is terminally ill. We are all terminally ill. A Death Warrior accepts death and makes a commitment to live a certain way, whether it be for one year or thirty years.2. When does one become a Death Warrior?There is a specific moment during which you can decide to become a Death Warrior. That moment is when death shows you that you will die.3. How do you become a Death Warrior?Once you accept that life will end, you can become a Death Warrior by choosing to love life at all times and in all circumstances. You choose to love life by loving.4. What are the qualities of a Death Warrior?A Death Warrior is grateful for every second of time given and is aware of how precious each second is. Every second not spent loving is wasted. The Death Warrior's enemy is time that is wasted by not loving.5. Why should you become a Death Warrior?So you can live and die with truth and courage, and because life is too painful when you're wasteful with the time given to you.--The Death Warrior Manifesto, by DQ

Do not waste the precious moments of this, your present reality, seeking to unveil all of life's secrets. Those secrets are a secret for a reason. Grant your God the benefit of the doubt. Use your NOW moment for the Highest Purpose- the creation and the expression of WHO YOU REALLY ARE. Decide who you are- who you want to be-and then do everything in your power to be that.It is not nearly so important how well a message is received as how well it is sent. You cannot take responsibility for how well another accepts your truth; you can only ensure how well it is communicated. And by how well, I don't mean merely how clearly; I mean how lovingly, how compassionately, how sensitively, how courageously, and how completely.If you think your life is about DOINGNESS, you do not understand what you are about. Your soul doesn't care what you do for a living-and when your life is over, neither will you. Your soul cares only about what you're BEING while you're doing whatever you're doing. It is a state of BEINGNESS the soul is after, not a state of doingness.

And it was only then that I realized what I had let myself in for, and only then I realized how bloody thick I had been not to have predicted it. It would seem that the combination of elements--woman, desert, camels, aloneness--hit some soft sport in this era's passionless, heartless, aching psyche. It fired the imaginations of people who seem themselves as alienated, powerless, unable to do anything about a world gone mad. And wouldn't it be my luck to pick just this combination. The reaction was totally unexpected and it was very, very weird. I was now public property. I was now a kind of symbol. I was now an object of ridicule for small-minded sexists, and I was a crazy, irresponsible adventurer (though not as crazy as I would have been had I failed). But worse than all that, I was now a mythical being who had done something courageous and outside the possibilities that ordinary people could hope for. And that was the antithesis of what I wanted to share. That anyone could do anything. If I could bumble my way across a desert, then anyone could do anything. And that was true especially for women, who have used cowardice for so long to protect themselves that it has become a habit.

Devereaux is going with our pitch.”“Hey, that’s just great,” I said superperkily. “Wendell’s or mine?”“Yours.”“But you want to fire me. So fire me.”“We can’t fire you. They loved you. The head guy, Leonard Daly, thought you were, I quote, ‘agreat kid, very courageous’ and a natural to do a whispering campaign. He said you hadbelievability.”“That’s too bad.”“Why? You’re not quitting!”I thought about it. “Not if you don’t want me to. Do you?”Go on, say it.298 ♥elavanilla♥“No.”“No what?”“No, we don’t want you to quit.”“Ten grand more, two assistants, and charcoal suits. Take it or leave it.”Ariella swallowed. “Okay to the money, okay to the assistants, but I can’t green-light charcoalsuits. Formula Twelve is Brazilian, we need carnival colors.”“Charcoal suits or I’m gone.”“Orange.”“Charcoal.”“Orange.”“Charcoal.”“Okay, charcoal.”It was an interesting lesson in power. The only time you truly have it is when you genuinelydon’t care whether you have it or not.“Right,” I said. “I’m giving myself the rest of the day off.

That dog is a wolf, is he not?''Aye, well, mostly.'A small flash of hazel told him not to quibble.'And yet he is thy boon companion, a creature of rare courage and affection, and altogether a worthy being?;'Oh, aye,' he said with more confidence. 'He is."She gave him an even look.'Thee is a wolf, too, and I know it. But thee is my wolf, and best thee know that.'He'd started to burn when she spoke, an ignition swift and fierce as the lighting of one of his cousin's matches. He put out his hand, palm forward, to her, still cautious lest she too, burst into flame.'What I said to ye, before . . . that I kent ye loved me-'She stepped forward and pressed her palm to his, her small, cool fingers linking tight.'What I say to thee now is that I do love thee. And if thee hunts at night, thee will come home.'Under the sycamore, the dog yawned and laid his muzzle on his paws.'And sleep at they feet,' Ian whispered, and gathered her in with his one good arm, both of them blazing bright as day.

Mumbai is the sweet, sweaty smell of hope, which is the opposite of hate; and it's the sour, stifled smell of greed, which is the opposite of love. It's the smell of Gods, demons, empires, and civilizations in resurrection and decay. Its the blue skin-smell of the sea, no matter where you are in the island city, and the blood metal smell of machines. It smells of the stir and sleep and the waste of sixty million animals, more than half of them humans and rats. It smells of heartbreak, and the struggle to live, and of the crucial failures and love that produces courage. It smells of ten thousand restaurants, five thousand temples, shrines, churches and mosques, and of hunderd bazaar devoted exclusively to perfume, spices, incense, and freshly cut flowers. That smell, above all things - is that what welcomes me and tells me that I have come home. Then there were people. Assamese, Jats, and Punjabis; people from Rajasthan, Bengal, and Tamil Nadu; from Pushkar, Cochin, and Konark; warrior caste, Brahmin, and untouchable; Hindi, Muslim, Christian, Buddhist, Jain, Parsee, Animist; fair skin and dark, green eyes and golden brown and black; every different face and form of that extravagant variety, that incoparable beauty, India.

There were thousands of Kantoreks, all of whom were convinced that they were acting for the best—in a way that cost them nothing. And that is why they let us down so badly. …in our hearts we trusted them. The idea of authority, which they represented, was associated in our minds with a greater insight and a more humane wisdom. But the first death we saw shattered this belief. We had to recognize that our generation was more to be trusted than theirs. They surpassed us only in phrases and in cleverness the first bombardment showed us our mistake, and under it the world as they had taught it to us broke in pieces. While they continued to write and talk, we saw the dying. While they taught that duty to one’s country is the greatest thing, we already knew that death-throes are stronger. But for all that we were no mutineers, no deserters, no cowards—they were very free with all these expressions. We loved our country as much as they; we went courageously into every action; but also we distinguished the false from true, we had suddenly learned to see. And we saw that there was nothing of their world left. We were all at once terribly alone; and alone we must see it through.