What you can conceive and believe, you can achieve!

Quotes

Surely, There Must Be A Tremendous Force

Surely, there must be a tremendous Force, Power, Being or Presence, which has brought forth the sunlight, the rain, or the snow of this day. There is a Something operating invisibly in this universe, sending forth all this glory into expression, a glory of which I am a part, for I, too, have been sent into expression by That which sent forth the flowers and the trees, the birds, and all that is.

I am one with all life. And just as this invisible Force is pouring sunshine into the room, so it is pouring life and being into me, and through me: intelligence, wisdom, guidance, direction, love, care, and protection. All of these are flowing in and through me.

~Joel Goldsmith

To You

Whoever you are, I fear you are walking the walks of
  dreams,
I fear these supposed realities are to melt from under your
  feet and hands,
Even now your features, joys, speech, house, trade, manners,
  troubles, follies, costume, crimes, dissipate away from you,
Your true soul and body appear before me,
They stand forth out of affairs, out of commerce, shops,
  work, farms, clothes, the house, buying, selling, eating,
  drinking, suffering, dying.

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you
  be my poem,
I whisper with my lips close to your ear,
I have loved many women and men, but I love none better
  than you.

O I have been dilatory and dumb,
I should have made my way straight to you long ago,
I should have blabb’d nothing but you, I should have chanted
  nothing but you.

I will leave all and come and make the hymns of you,
None has understood you, but I understand you,
None has done justice to you, you have not done justice to
  yourself,
None but has found you imperfect, I only find no
  imperfection in you,
None but would subordinate you, I only am he who will
  never consent to subordinate you,
I only am he who places over you no master, owner, better,
  God, beyond what waits intrinsically in yourself.

Painters have painted their swarming groups and the centre-
  figure of all,
From the head of the centre-figure spreading a nimbus of
  gold-color’d light,
But I paint myriads of heads, but paint no head without its
  nimbus of gold-color’d light,
From my hand from the brain of every man and woman it
  streams, effulgently flowing forever.

O I could sing such grandeurs and glories about you!
You have not known what you are, you have slumber’d upon
  yourself all your life,
Your eyelids have been the same as closed most of the time,
What you have done returns already in mockeries,
(Your thrift, knowledge, prayers, if they do not return in
  mockeries, what is their return?)

The mockeries are not you,
Underneath them and within them I see you lurk,
I pursue you where none else has pursued you,
Silence, the desk, the flippant expression, the night, the
  accustom’d routine, if these conceal you from others or
  from yourself, they do not conceal you from me,
The shaved face, the unsteady eye, the impure complexion, if
  these balk others they do not balk me,
The pert apparel, the deform’d attitude, drunkenness, greed,
  premature death, all these I part aside.

There is no endowment in man or woman that is not tallied
  in you,
There is no virtue, no beauty in man or woman, but as good
  is in you,
No pluck, no endurance in others, but as good is in you,
No pleasure waiting for others, but an equal pleasure waits
  for you.

As for me, I give nothing to any one except I give the like
  carefully to you,
I sing the songs of the glory of none, not God, sooner than
  I sing the songs of the glory of you.

Whoever you are! claim your own at an hazard!
These shows of the East and West are tame compared to you,
These immense meadows, these interminable rivers, you are
  immense and interminable as they,
These furies, elements, storms, motions of Nature, throes of
  apparent dissolution, you are he or she who is master or
  mistress over them,
Master or mistress in your own right over Nature, elements,
  pain, passion, dissolution.

The hobbles fall from your ankles, you find an unfailing
  sufficiency,
Old or young, male or female, rude, low, rejected by the rest,
  whatever you are promulgates itself,
Through birth, life, death, burial, the means are provided,
  nothing is scanted,
Through angers, losses, ambition, ignorance, ennui, what
  you are picks its way.

~Walt Whitman, 1819 – 1892

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Quotable

Life is like a sandwich!


Birth as one slice, and death as the other. What you put in-between the slices is up to you.


Is your sandwich tasty or sour?


― Allan Rufus
Be Merry


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