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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #natural
[…] One night, five men from Nuweiba were travelling past the mountain, and one of them fell behind, and was separated from his companions. As the man – whom we will call Ahmed – wandered in the darkness, wondering where his friends had gone, a beautiful woman suddenly appeared out of the night and blocked his path. She gave him a choice: ‘Sex, or be eaten!’ It was not a difficult decision. As the Bedouins put it, ‘the man did what a man has to do.’ […] ↗
The Celt, and his cromlechs, and his pillar-stones, these will not change much – indeed, it is doubtful if anybody at all changes at any time. In spite of hosts of deniers, and asserters, and wise-men, and professors, the majority still are adverse to sitting down to dine thirteen at a table, or being helped to salt, or walking under a ladder, of seeing a single magpie flirting his chequered tale. There are, of course, children of light who have set their faces against all this, although even a newspaperman, if you entice him into a cemetery at midnight, will believe in phantoms, for everyone is a visionary, if you scratch him deep enough. But the Celt, unlike any other, is a visionary without scratching. ↗
Xander Stryker." A thick, rich voice filled the hall. The speaker stopped at the altar, standing in a blue robe. His thick brown hair was slicked back and tied in a small ponytail in the back and his solid blue eyes--matching the shade of his robe--shifted from one to the other. Xander blinked several times, clearing the grogginess from his mind, and began to sit up, nodding his respects at the newcomer. "My name is Ronen," the newcomer said, bowing his head as he took a step towards him, "and it will be my pleasure to guide you through the change." he stopped for a moment, smiling warmly, before carefully lifting Xander’s left arm. Before continuing, he locked his gaze on Xander's, "You are sure that this is what you want?" Xander nodded. There was a sharp sting then as Ronen bit into his wrist and Xander flinched before a warm rush made the pain subside and the room began to spin. Thrown off kilter, Xander felt himself start to fall as the poison seeped into the veins of his arm and, after a long, lingering moment, crawled past his shoulder and into his chest--into his heart--where it suddenly exploded into a full-body inferno. He was burning to death! When he was certain that he was on fire there was a sudden cool rush; a wave of ice that ran through the length of his body and seeped into his core until he found his eyelids and pried them open. The image of Depok and Ronen came into focus and he was vaguely aware of Depok's left hand on his shoulder as the pure-blood pulled his fangs away from his wrist. Mind still reeling, Xander noticed, not without a bit of shock, that he was still lying on top of the altar. A moment later, his eyes rolled back in his skull and the lights from the candles melted into a solid glow that swallowed him and faded to black. As Death swooped down and enveloped him, he heard Depok's voice in the distance: "Welcome home, Xander. ↗
#change #crimson-shadow #fang #goth #horror
Depression is partly a nocebo effect, in the sense that it can be produced by negative exceptions about oneself and the world. The way in which these negative expectations develop and produce their negative effects provides some clues as to how they can be reversed. Expectancy effects grow, feeding upon themselves. One reason this happens is that our subjective states - our feelings, our moods and sensations - are in constant flux, changing from day to day and from moment to moment. The effects of these fluctuations depend on how we interpret them, and our interpretations depend on our beliefs and expectations. When we expect to feel worse, we tend to notice random small negative changes and interpret them as evidence that we are in fact getting worse. This interpretation makes us actually feel worse, and it strengthens the belief that we are getting worse, leading to a vicious cycle in which our expectations and negative emotions feed on each other, cascading into a full-blown depressive episode. .. Positive expectancies have the opposite effect. They can set in motion a begin cycle, in which random fluctuations in mood and well being are interpreted as evidence of treatment effectiveness, thereby instilling a further sense of hope and countering the feeling of hopelessness that are so central to clinical depression. ↗
Nevertheless, the potential and actual importance of fantastic literature lies in such psychic links: what appears to be the result of an overweening imagination, boldly and arbitrarily defying the laws of time, space and ordered causality, is closely connected with, and structured by, the categories of the subconscious, the inner impulses of man's nature. At first glance the scope of fantastic literature, free as it is from the restrictions of natural law, appears to be unlimited. A closer look, however, will show that a few dominant themes and motifs constantly recur: deals with the Devil; returns from the grave for revenge or atonement; invisible creatures; vampires; werewolves; golems; animated puppets or automatons; witchcraft and sorcery; human organs operating as separate entities, and so on. Fantastic literature is a kind of fiction that always leads us back to ourselves, however exotic the presentation; and the objects and events, however bizarre they seem, are simply externalizations of inner psychic states. This may often be mere mummery, but on occasion it seems to touch the heart in its inmost depths and become great literature. ↗
Must the interest of life wane for us all as the progress of knowledge curtails the playground of imagination? No doubt it must in some measure, but there is another cause. I believe that in these days we have too many occupations, too many interests; we know too many things, and, if you will, have too many advantages and facilities. Our faculty of taking an interest is dissipated and frittered away. ↗
Natural,my ass! The worst poison known to man comes from a tree frog in South America. You cannot imagine how small an amount would be necessary to kill you.and it's natural.Calling something NATURAL is a MEANINGLESS MARKETING PLOY." "All right,calm down! Maybe I like alternative medicine because it's been in use for more than six thousand years.After all that time,they have to know what they're doing." "You mean the wacky idea that somehow in the distant past people had more scientific wisdom than they do today?That's both crazy and counterintuitive.Six thousand years ago people thought thunder was a bunch of gods moving around furniture." -Conversation btw Dr.Jack Stapleton and Vinnie ↗
#medicine #natural #otc #science #imagination
Dad was on the porch, pacing back and forth in that uneven stride he had on account of having a gimp leg. When he saw, he let out a yelp of delight and started hobbling down the steps towards us. Mom came running out of the house. She sank down on her knees, clasped her hands in front of her, and started praying up to the heavens, thanking the Lord for delivering her children from the flood. It was she who had saved us, she declared, by staying up all night praying. "You get down on your knees and thank your guardian angel," she said. "And thank me, too." Helen and Buster got down and started praying with Mom, but I just stood there looking at them. The way I saw it. I was the one who'd saved us all, not Mom and not some guardian angel. No one was up in that cottonwood tree except the three of us. Dad came alongside me and put his arms around my shoulders. "There weren't no guardian angel, Dad," I said. I started explaining how I'd gotten us to the cottonwood tree in time, figuring out how to switch places when our arms got tired and keeping Buster and Helen awake through the long night by quizzing them. Dad squeezed my shoulder. "Well, darling," he said, "maybe the angel was you. ↗
Miracles occur naturally as expressions of love. The real miracle is the love that inspires them. In this sense everything that comes from love is a miracle. ↗
