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W Quotes

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All W Quotes

“When the frustration of my helplessness seemed greatest, I discovered God's grace was more than sufficient. And after my imprisonment, I could look back and see how God used my powerlessness for His purpose. What He has chosen for my most significant witness was not my triumphs or victories, but my defeat.”

“When the fuel is dried up in a vehicle, it stops driving automatically. You are a vehicle in the spiritual and the physical world, so you need some oil for alacrity, in order to get to your destination. The greater the quantity of your oil, the more you cover the distance, and the more you cover the distance, the closer you get to your success.”

“When the function of libraries is put in terms of their contributions to the community, people see their centrality. The challenge to us is to continue to help them see it in those terms to describe our larger purposes. We must assert that libraries are central to the quality of life in our society; that libraries have a direct role in preserving democratic freedoms. Free access to information and the opportunity of every individual to improve his or her mind, employment prospects, and lifestyle are fundamental rights in our society.”

“When the Furies were released in the Middle East, an evil emerged beyond my worst imaginings. The joy of the Middle East has been replaced by fear, pervasive in Iraq and Syria and darkening the lives of people throughout the region. This is why refugees have been flowing out of the Middle East by the millions for Europe. If President Bush’s seeds of democracy or the Arab Spring had bloomed, these families wouldn’t be risking everything to leave. Many in the region have simply lost all hope, which is understandable. If you lived in Libya after the fall of Gadhafi, you’d be terrified. You can’t work, you can’t sell your goods, your children can’t go to school, you can’t even drive around without fear of being kidnapped by bandits or terrorists. It’s not a place where people can be happy and even marginally prosperous. It’s pure chaos. It’s worse in Iraq and Syria.”

“When the gamblers finally run out of money and credit, or crack under the strain of maintaining a "normal life" while living the life of a compulsive gambler, the gamblers "hit bottom" and reveal the life of lies to the shock of the non-gamblers. The gamblers will promise that this will never happen again, plead for one more chance, and ask for financial help to get out from under the debt.”

“When the gamblers lie, tell the gamblers you don't believe the lie. Avoid the argument by stopping the conversation. Do this by leaving the room, hanging up the phone, taking a drive, or making a phone call to a Gam-Anon friend. When the gamblers ask for money, say NO, no matter what the gamblers say will happen if they don't get the money. Don't pay the gamblers' debts. Protect your finances, family finances, and/or business finances from the gamblers so they no longer have access. Stop keeping the gambling a secret from those you are trying to protect. Separate love and trust. Acknowledge that the feelings of fear and guilt will not go away immediately. Don't show the fear. Hide the guilt. Act as if your fear and guilt do not exist. They are a source of manipulation and control for the gamblers. Speak the truth: 'You are a compulsive gambler. I love you, but I will not give you any money. I will not gamble with you or listen to your gambling experiences. I will not lie for you. I will not make excuses for you. I will not argue with you to convince you to stop gambling. That is your decision. The solutions to your problems are at Gamblers Anonymous.”

“When the Gauls laid waste Rome, they found the senators clothed in their robes, and seated in stern tranquillity in their curule chairs; in this manner they suffered death without resistance or supplication. Such conduct was in them applauded as noble and magnanimous; in the hapless Indians it was reviled as both obstinate and sullen. How truly are we the dupes of show and circumstances! How different is virtue, clothed in purple and enthroned in state, from virtue, naked and destitute, and perishing obscurely in a wilderness.”

“When the German people trusting to the promises made by President Wilson in his Fourteen Points, laid down their arms in November 1918, a fateful struggle thereby came to an end for which perhaps individual statesmen, but certainly not the peoples themselves could be held responsible. The German nation put up such an heroic fight because it was sincere in its conviction that it had been wrongfully attacked and was therefore justified in fighting. the Peace Treaty of Versailles did not seem to be for the purpose of restoring peace to mankind, but rather to perpetuate hatred.”

“When the girl didn’t move, Gavin summoned her near with his fingers. His heart thrummed as she obeyed, stepping up close to him. Her young stature was much shorter than his tall, wiry form. Gavin regarded her prettiness—pale cheeks, pink lips, inquisitive eyes. Fascinated by her, he longed to know her name. “Who are you?” he asked. He heard the girl utter the same question at the same time. Cocking his head, he claimed, “I asked you first.” “No you didn’t,” she protested, shaking her red-hooded head. “I asked you at the same time you asked me.” Gavin grinned at her insistence. It was hard for him not to chuckle. “Well then, I suppose we’ll have to go with ‘girls first.’” His grin widened into a white smile. The girl gestured to herself. “I’m Little Red Riding Hood.” He recognized the name of a fairy tale character and groaned under his breath at not having discovered this dreamer’s real name. “Actually,” she confessed almost immediately, “I’m not really Red Riding Hood. My name is Annabelle, but I’m pretending to be her because… well… because this is my dream and that’s what I wish to dream about.” Oh glorious day! He had learned her name! Annabelle! Annabelle! What a perfectly sweet sound was this utterance of… Annabelle!”

“When the girl returned, some hours later, she carried a tray, with a cup of fragrant tea steaming on it; and a plate piled up with very hot buttered toast, cut thick, very brown on both sides, with the butter running through the holes in great golden drops, like honey from the honeycomb. The smell of that buttered toast simply talked to Toad, and with no uncertain voice; talked of warm kitchens, of breakfasts on bright frosty mornings, of cosy parlour firesides on winter evenings, when one's ramble was over and slippered feet were propped on the fender, of the purring of contented cats, and the twitter of sleepy canaries.”