Best 486 quotes in «free quotes» category

We have the opportunity to pour into them what they were created to be; and pullout the treasure that they cannot yet see.

We learned the shocking truth that "home" isn't necessarily a certain spot on earth. It must be a place where you can "feel" at home, which means "free" to us.

We need Wisdom to seek for the Kindom and we need the Kingdom to have the Freedom to posess all other things!

We love our partners for who they are, not for who they are not.

Were the earth as smooth as a ball bearing, it might be beautiful seen from another planet, as the rings of Saturn are. But here we live and move; we wander up and down the banks of the creek, we ride a railway through the Alps, and the landscape shifts and changes. Were the earth smooth, our brains would be smooth as well; we would wake, blink, walk two steps to get the whole picture and lapse into dreamless sleep. Because we are living people, and because we are on the receiving end of beauty, another element necessarily enters the question. The texture of space is a condition of time. Time is the warp and matter the weft of woven texture of beauty in space, and death is the hurtling shuttle… What I want to do, then, is add time to the texture, paint the landscape on an unrolling scroll, and set the giant relief globe spinning on it stand.

We were born as a free soul. We only become enslaved in the world.

What a fucking gorgeous night!

Whatever this fearlessness, this strength, this difference was, she was starting to like it.

Whatever comes to you in a cheap way will vanish in a cheap way. Be patient and earn it the hard way.

What happens when I love, you ask, does the world start making sense? No, my dear, it does not. But it won’t matter to you then.

Whatever you want is behind the mountain of struggles. Nothing great comes with ease.

What happened to me? I asked myself. Morris's high, smoky voice took me back to my university years, when I thought rich people were evil, a shirt and tie were prison clothes, and life without freedom to get up and go - motorcycle beneath you, breeze in your face, down the streets of Paris, into the mountains of Tibet - was not a good life at all. What happened to me?

What ranks above all else for economic and political reconstruction is a radical change of ideologies. Economic prosperity is not so much a material problem; it is, first of all, an intellectual, spiritual, and moral problem.

What is the truth?’ he asked. ‘We place faith in ourselves,’ replied Altaïr (...) ‘We see the world as it really is, and hope that one day all mankind might see the same.’ ‘What is the world, then?’ ‘An illusion,’ replied Altaïr. ‘One we can either submit to – as most do – or transcend.’ ‘And what is it to transcend?’ 'To recognize that laws arise not from divinity, but reason. I understand now that our Creed does not command us to be free.’ And suddenly he really did understand. ‘It commands us to be wise

...What kind of a tragedy did you have in your childhood?" "Why, none at all. I had a wonderful childhood. Free and peaceful and not bothered too much by anybody. Well, yes, I did feel bored very often. But I’m used to that.

What would it be like if I were free, not enslaved by my conditioning?

What you are good at, you never do it free!

We nurture our creativity when we release our inner child. Let it run and roam free. It will take you on a brighter journey.

When love invades your life, it captures your heart, imprisons your mind, and frees your soul.

What's more, I was free to do anything that did not hurt others that strengthened me and helped me in the one thing that we are all put on this earth to do: help one another - because it is the only thing that, in the long run, gives us pleasure, as receiving love and friendship and affection is the only thing that gives us joy and ameliorates the dread of our inevitable extinction.

When some claim demarcation and “regulation”, others fancy “deregulation”, preferring foxes guarding the henhouse or chicken yards with free chickens and free foxes. Friend or foe, hen or fox, anyone can have a go. (“This far”)

When someone comes along and expresses him or herself as freely as they think, people flock to it. They enjoy it.

When water fountains start charging to drink, then you know we have a problem.

When we awaken to our truth, we realize we are free.

When we hear our souls speak, we are free.

When you are happy, you are free; when you are free, you can be creative; when you are creative, your divine self comes out.

When you make limits to yourself, you're not yourself anymore.

When I was 14-15 There was nothing to my life but dancing and sex I'd go to night clubs and dance Then I'd meet someone and have sex it was Fine and easy nothing to do BUT Think with my body like a bird I Thought I was Free TrAcey Emin

Who are you? Are you in touch with all of your darkest fantasies? Have you created a life for yourself where you can experience them? I have. I am fucking crazy. But I am free.

Why is it," she asked, snuggling closer, "that I so often imagine myself running away and running free?

Windows 10 on both an old 2011 upgraded computer and a new 2016 computer was an excruciating experience

Whoever wishes to be free, shall seek the faith of liberty.

Without forgiveness and love, you will live with resentment, bitterness, malice and strife which result in more pain. You can never love without forgiving. Forgiveness deepens your ability to love and frees you from pain.

Without suffering, we never wishes to be free.

With every breath, I breathe in so much of inspiration. I feel if there is one thing as free and as important as oxygen, it's inspiration.

Why anarchy? Because anything less would be uncivilized.

Words to intrigue, inspire, examine, question, praise; Words to help us appreciate our world, our selves, our games; Words to dance our true soul fires gracefully free.

Xerxes, I read, ‘halted his unwieldy army for days that he might contemplate to his satisfaction’ the beauty of a single sycamore. You are Xerxes in Persia. Your army spreads on a vast and arid peneplain…you call to you all your sad captains, and give the order to halt. You have seen the tree with the lights in it, haven’t you? You must have. Xerxes buffeted on a plain, ambition drained in a puff. Your men are bewildered…there is nothing to catch the eye in this flatness, nothing but a hollow, hammering sky, a waste of sedge in the lee of windblown rocks, a meager ribbon of scrub willow tracing a slumbering watercourse…and that sycamore. You saw it; you will stand rapt and mute, exalted, remembering or not remembering over a period of days to shade your head with your robe. “He had its form wrought upon a medal of gold to help him remember it the rest of his life.” We all ought to have a goldsmith following us around. But it goes without saying, doesn’t it, Xerxes, that no gold medal worn around your neck will bring back the glad hour, keep those lights kindled so long as you live, forever present? Pascal saw it; he grabbed pen and paper and scrawled the one word, and wore it sewn in his shirt the rest of his life. I don’t know what Pascal saw. I saw a cedar. Xerxes saw a sycamore.

With school turning out more runners, jumpers, racers, tinkerers, grabbers, snatchers, fliers, and swimmers instead of examiners, critics, knowers, and imaginative creators, the word 'intellectual,' of course, became the swear word it deserved to be. You always dread the unfamiliar. Surely you remember the boy in your own school class who was exceptionally ‘bright,’ did most of the reciting and answering while the others sat like so many leaden idols, hating him. And wasn’t it this bright boy you selected and tortured after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves again. So! A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man's mind. Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man? Me?

Worry denies the power of God and produces no good results. Worry adds no value to your life. Eliminate it with God’s help.

You all have a gift. It's free. It's the gift of song.

Yield, and I'll eat your little pussy... first.

With the pursuit of faith, I am a free soul.

You are a lamp to give light to people; you must mount the lamp stand and shine bright! Don't hide your gifts; expose and share them freely!

You are as free as a prisoner in an open air prison

You are God. You want to make a forest, something to hold the soil, lock up energy, and give off oxygen. Wouldn’t it be simpler just to rough in a slab of chemicals, a green acre of goo? You are a man, a retired railroad worker who makes replicas as a hobby. You decide to make a replica of one tree, the longleaf pine your great-grandfather planted- just a replica- it doesn’t have to work. How are you going to do it? How long do you think you might live, how good is your glue? For one thing, you are going to have to dig a hole and stick your replica trunk halfway to China if you want the thing to stand up. Because you will have to work fairly big; if your replica is too small, you’ll be unable to handle the slender, three-sided needles, affix them in clusters of three in fascicles, and attach those laden fascicles to flexible twigs. The twigs themselves must be covered by “many silvery-white, fringed, long-spreading scales.” Are your pine cones’ scales “thin, flat, rounded at the apex?” When you loose the lashed copper wire trussing the limbs to the trunk, the whole tree collapses like an umbrella. You are a sculptor. You climb a great ladder; you pour grease all over a growing longleaf pine. Next, you build a hollow cylinder around the entire pine…and pour wet plaster over and inside the pine. Now open the walls, split the plaster, saw down the tree, remove it, discard, and your intricate sculpture is ready: this is the shape of part of the air. You are a chloroplast moving in water heaved one hundred feet above ground. Hydrogen, carbon, oxygen, nitrogen in a ring around magnesium…you are evolution; you have only begun to make trees. You are god- are you tired? Finished?

You are my son Dantés! You are the child of my captivity. My priestly office condemned me to celibacy: God sent you to me both to console the man who could not be a father and the prisoner who could not be free

You cannot free someone who is caged in their own self.

You have the right to free speech. We, the corporate controlled government, have the right to ignore you and we choose to exercise this right.

You choose your thoughts, control your emotions, and determine your actions. Thus you decide your fate.