#sing

Religious Jews believe that all things come from God, as God owns everything. The Tanakh says, “The Lord makes some poor and others rich; he brings some down and lifts others up” (NLT, 1 Samuel 2:7). “The blessing of the LORD brings wealth, and he adds no trouble to it” (NIV, Proverbs 10:22). ↗

— H.W. Charles

#god-blesses #jewish-wealth #money #wealth #money

In the midst of prosperity, the challenge for believers is to handle wealth in such a way that it acts as a blessing, not a curse. ↗

— Randy Alcorn

#curse #prosperity #stewardship #wealth #money

The deepest and darkest dungeons that we are ever flung into are the dungeons of the mind ↗

— rassool jibraeel snyman

#motivational #philosophical #philosophical-musings #philosophiy-of-life #philosophy

Frustration is having a debate with a blind man on shades of red ↗

— rassool jibraeel snyman

#motivational #philosophical #philosophical-reflection #philosophy #philosopical-musings

I blame God for all the good things that happened in my life to spite him I will be good to others ↗

— rassool jibraeel snyman

#philosophical #philosophical-musings #philosophy #motivational

I am kind of majoring in bull shitting. ↗

— Kate Voegele

#kate-voegele #major #music #singer #music

She sang, as requested. There was much about love in the ballad: faithful love that refused to abandon its object; love that disaster could not shake; love that, in calamity, waxed fonder, in poverty clung closer. The words were set to a fine old air -- in themselves they were simple and sweet: perhaps, when read, they wanted force; when well sung, they wanted nothing. Shirley sang them well: she breathed into the feeling, softness, she poured round the passion, force: her voice was fine that evening; its expression dramatic: she impressed all, and charmed one. On leaving the instrument, she went to the fire, and sat down on a seat -- semi-stool, semi-cushion: the ladies were round her -- none of them spoke. The Misses Sympson and the Misses Nunnely looked upon her, as quiet poultry might look on an egret, an ibis, or any other strange fowl. What made her sing so? They never sang so. Was it proper to sing with such expression, with such originality -- so unlike a school girl? Decidedly not: it was strange, it was unusual. What was strange must be wrong; what was unusual must be improper. Shirley was judged. ↗

— Charlotte Brontë

#empathy #expectations #expression #faithfulness #feeling

Let's sing our way out of this ↗

— Isabel Fraire

#musical-theatre #singing #music

Deep within I'm shaken by the violence of existing for only you... ↗

— Sarah McLachlan

#emotion #music #musicians #obsession #relationships

The music had ceased. Alex walked over to the gramophone, wound it up again, and put on more blues, a woman singing this time, gay and sad at once, like a stranded angel who had traded holiness for humanity but remembered what it used to be like to know God. ↗

— Barbara Hambly

#fallen-angel #music #singer #singing #music