feeling

You will look young when you feel young, but to simply feel that you are young will not always cause you to feel young. The real feeling of youth comes when we actually think in the consciousness of youth and give the realization of the now to every thought.

The history of your happiness is the history of your feeling connected.

True respect comes when we fend for ourselves without the aid of anyone, and when we owned something and say, 'this is my own'! Not necessarily as a way of boasting of our abundance and grace, but having a feeling that we can use it without obstruction, or being asked to return the favor.

One is far better off feeling than one is thinking.

Insecurities have the ability to shape and mold our minds to live with everything that__ bad; like crying on the inside, while smiling on the outside_thus creating pain_but, alas, I have the answer; forget about what you thought and enjoy (embrace) what you feel

I don't want to be the one who says life is beautiful. I want to be the one who feels it.

Beauty is the purest feeling of the soul. Beauty arises when soul is satisfied.

When things are challenging, remember you are not the feelings and emotions. They are just a reaction to the situation, so accept them and try to find the root source and ease that pain - The core essence of you is a beautiful, unique, authentic spirit and you are worth of everything in life.

My goal is to be the most magical person you know. I say that all the time, because it__ an idea that really does shape my daily life. But you might not have met me, or maybe you aren__ familiar with me at all. Still, I know that you have a person who has given you that feeling.

I would like to see you. But: I would only like to see you with your feeling space, and desire, the parents of bravery, and curiosity. I would like you to want to see me without you feeling seduced or pressured. I would like to see you without our playing games: for games are for winners and losers and I do not ever want to win against you, or for you to lose against me, and I do not want to lose against you or for you to win against me. For we are part of the whole, the main, as Donne said__nd your gain is mine and my loss is yours. Love is about finding one__ match, which means we shall touch our minds and hearts together at once, and never condescend or aim for any goal between us but the truth.

Life is complex in its expression, involving more than percipience, namely desire, emotion, will, and feeling.

There is no feeling quite so lonely as failure.

The soul that loves and suffers is in the sublime state.

Science itself, no matter whether it is the search for truth or merely the need to gain control over the external world, to alleviate suffering, or to prolong life, is ultimately a matter of feeling, or rather, of desire-the desire to know or the desire to realize.

Are you so dead inside you don't feel the daily anguish, terror and deathly suffering of millions? What happened to you? You've changed.

There is, of course, always the personal satisfaction of writing down one's experiences so they may be saved, caught and pinned under glass, hoarded against the winter of forgetfulness. Time has been cheated a little, at least in one's own life, and a personal, trivial immortality of an old self assured. And there is another personal satisfaction: that of the people who like to recount their adventures, the diary-keepers, the story-tellers, the letter-writers, a strange race of people who feel half cheated of an experience unless it is retold. It does not really exist until it is put into words. As though a little doubting or dull, they could not see it until it is repeated. For, paradoxically enough, the more unreal an experience becomes - translated from real action into unreal words, dead symbols for life itself - the more vivid it grows. Not only does it seem more vivid, but its essential core becomes clearer. One says excitedly to an audience, 'Do you see - I can't tell you how strange it was - we all of us felt...' although actually, at the time of incident, one was not conscious of such a feeling, and only became so in the retelling. It is as inexplicable as looking all afternoon at a gray stone of a beach, and not realizing, until one tries to put it on canvas, that is in reality bright blue.

We suffer from the malady of words, and have no trust in any feeling that is not stamped with its special word.

In that moment, I felt differently to myself yet the essence of who I really was.Like a perfect state of balance.