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Quote by Sameh Elsayed

“when you expect something from your self and your own self disappoints you.... this is what i call a real disappointment . The worst disappointments comes from in-within.”

Quote by Sameh Elsayed

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Sameh Elsayed

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“Christianity still makes sense because it was Christ who: - Never Judged a person by his/her appearance [Mark 10:46-51] - Never Looked down with disdain on someone just because that person does not come to His church [John 4:1-26] - Never kept back his miracle of Healing, just because the person does not belonged to His own community [Matthew 15:25-28] - Shared His Love and Grace with both poor [Luke 14:13] and rich equally [Mark 10:21] - Chose to Forgive even those whom 'His chosen ones' looks down with contempt. [Luke 7:36-50] - Proclaim the Truth about Gospel to a lost soul even if there is no one to acknowledge Him publicly [John 3:1-3] - Preferred to keep quiet even if He was 'wrongly accused'. [Matthew 27:12] - Who ranks the Giver on the basis if his/her Intent of giving and not just Extent of giving [Luke 21:1-4] - Chose to empty His pockets and desist resources available to Him, so that He can teach to Serve First [John 13:14] and lead later. - Eagerly listened to the one who came asking for help and delivered them from their issues rather than opening His book of sorrows and issues to make them feel awkward and ignored. [Mark 7:31-37] ...Its a shame that it is we Christians, who at times Disappoint our Christ and Dishonor His name by acting just opposite to His nature and character in our lives. "World is not disappointed by Christianity, its tired of, us Christians.”

“Life is hope. Hope is faith. Faith is believe. Believe is possibilities. Possibility is miraculous. Miraculous is divine. Divine is supernatural. Supernatural is spiritual.”

“Inside the music like this, she understood many things. She understood that Simon was a disappointed man if he needed, at this age, to tell her he had pitied her for years. She understood that as he drove his car back down the coast toward Boston, toward his wife with whom he had raised three children, that something in him would be satisfied to have witnessed her the way he had tonight, and she understood that this form of comfort was true for many people, as it made Malcolm feel better to call Walter Dalton a pathetic fairy, but it was thin milk, this form of nourishment; it could not change that you had wanted to be a concert pianist and ended up a real estate lawyer, that you had married a woman and stayed married to her for thirty years, when she did not ever find you lovely in bed.”

“I am getting tired of feeling disappointed. I am getting tired of other people trying to always take my kindness for weakness, I sure don't deserve it. I should assume responsibility and become cold to others and warm to myself. Some call it self loving, other selfishness... I call it respect. Why to give less that what is being given? Maybe I am way too much for you, maybe that is your biggest fear, to feel less.”

“Ah, I believe Schacht. Only too willingly; that’s to say, I think what he says is absolutely true, for the world is incomprehensibly crass, tyrannical, moody, and cruel to sickly and sensitive people. Well, Schacht will stay here for the time being. We laughed at him a bit, when he arrived, that can’t be helped either, Schacht is young and after all can’t be allowed to think there are special degrees, advantages, methods, and considerations for him. He has now had his first disappointment, and I’m convinced that he’ll have twenty disappointments, one after the other. Life with its savage laws is in any case for certain people a succession of discouragements and terrifying bad impressions. People like Schacht are born to feel and suffer a continuous sense of aversion. He would like to admit and welcome things, but he just can’t. Hardness and lack of compassion strike him with tenfold force, he just feels them more acutely. Poor Schacht. He’s a child and he should be able to revel in melodies and bed himself in kind, soft, carefree things. For him there should be secret splashings and birdsong. Pale and delicate evening clouds should waft him away in the kingdom of Ah, What’s Happening to Me? His hands are made for light gestures, not for work. Before him breezes should blow, and behind him sweet, friendly voices should be whispering. His eyes should be allowed to remain blissfully closed, and Schacht should be allowed to go quietly to sleep again, after being wakened in the morning in the warm, sensuous cushions. For him there is, at root, no proper activity, for every activity is for him, the way he is, improper, unnatural, and unsuitable. Compared with Schacht I’m the trueblue rawboned laborer. Ah, he’ll be crushed, and one day he’ll die in a hospital. or he’ll perish, ruined in body and soul, inside one of our modern prisons.”