The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering. I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. The last scud of the day holds back for me, It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadow'd wilds, It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk. I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runaway sun, I effuse my flesh in eddies, and drift it in lacy jags. I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles. You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre for your blood. Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.
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Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend... when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that's present -- love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature and personal pursuits that bring us pleasure -- the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience Heaven on earth.
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'Against his better judgment, the big game hunter is talked into taking both his wife AND her mother along on one of his expeditions. It does not go well. The mother-in-law is, if anything, harder to get along with in the wilds than she was in the city. And to make matters worse, she won't even abide by the simple camp rules designed to keep the safari safe. One night after dinner, the hunter's wife realizes her mother is missing. Panicked, she rushes to her husband and begs him to institute a search. He sighs, and together they set out. But before they've gone far, they hear throaty growling. Soon they come upon a small clearing in which the mother-in-law stands, backed up against thick, seemingly impenetrable jungle brush, and facing a huge male lion. The wife whispers urgently, 'What are we going to do?' 'Nothing,' responds her husband. 'The lion got himself into this mess, now let him get himself out of it.''
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'Against his better judgment, the big game hunter is talked into taking both his wife AND her mother along on one of his expeditions. It does not go well. The mother-in-law is, if anything, harder to get along with in the wilds than she was in the city. And to make matters worse, she won't even abide by the simple camp rules designed to keep the safari safe. One night after dinner, the hunter's wife realizes her mother is missing. Panicked, she rushes to her husband and begs him to institute a search. He sighs, and together they set out. But before they've gone far, they hear throaty growling. Soon they come upon a small clearing in which the mother-in-law stands, backed up against thick, seemingly impenetrable jungle brush, and facing a huge male lion. The wife whispers urgently, 'What are we going to do?' 'Nothing,' responds her husband. 'The lion got himself into this mess, now let him get himself out of it.''
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We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop
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There's certainly a lot more to what the Supreme Court does than abortion rights. If we focus too much on abortion, we're missing questions about, say, executive authority over the war on terror. We're missing important questions about civil rights and equal protection. We're missing issues that could affect Americans, a larger percentage.
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We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.
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Paradoxically, all these wonderful dimensions that we want for our being are completely missing, being a hope, a dream about the perfection of the being. Then this hope and dream of perfection is materialized in the vision we have on our soul mate. Moreover, if we are under the impression that we know what we would want as perfection, it always remains a mere false impression and nothing more, because then the event of a Great Love occurs, we realize that what we thought to be perfection is false, and the novelty of the new imagine on the perfection embodies by the lover makes us feel that intense feeling of suffocating love, precisely because we find our new standard for perfection, which becomes this way superior to the old one.
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Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated.
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'If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of car payments.'
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Granted there are instances in which children have been reared in an atmosphere of inconsistency where value training of any kind was entirely missing; but even in these cases, it is the lack of loving guidance and structure rather than the lack of punitive retribution that has triggered the behavioral manifestations of delinquency. In a high percentage of court cases, there is evidence that the child has met with punishment that has not only been frequent but in many cases excessive. In fact, one of the sources of the child's own inadequate development is the model of open violence provided by the parent who has resorted repeatedly to corporal punishment, usually because of his own limited imagination. This indoctrination into a world where only might makes right and where all strength is invested in the authority of the mother or of the father not only makes it easy for the child to develop aggressive patterns of behavior but makes him emotionally distant and distrustful.
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What we do is less than a drop in the ocean. But if it were missing, the ocean would lack something.
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An autobiography is an obituary in serial form with the last installment missing.
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I am opposed to writing about the private lives of living authors and psychoanalyzing them while they are alive. Criticism is getting all mixed up with a combination of the Junior F.B.I. -men, discards from Freud and Jung and a sort of Columnist peep-hole and missing laundry list school. Every young English professor sees gold in them dirty sheets now. Imagine what they can do with the soiled sheets of four legal beds by the same writer and you can see why their tongues are slavering.
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Hell hath no fury like a Dad whose tools are missing
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I always believed it was the things you don't choose that makes you who you are. Your city, your neighborhood, your family. People here take pride in these things, like it was something they'd accomplished. The bodies around their souls, the cities wrapped around those. I lived on this block my whole life; most of these people have. When your job is to find people who are missing, it helps to know where they started. I find the people who started in the cracks and then fell through. This city can be hard. When I was young, I asked my priest how you could get to heaven and still protect yourself from all the evil in the world. He told me what God said to His children. 'You are sheep among wolves. Be wise as serpents, yet innocent as doves.'
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Anyone who says he can see through women is missing a lot.
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We view the recent Yahoo! sell-off as overdone. We believe anyone investing in Yahoo! on the belief that the Internet represents a good advertising medium is missing the story.
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A five-member family has gone missing in Yemen ... According to information we have received the family has been in Yemen since December 24.
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Well, my English teacher was Japanese, my reading teacher told me to look it up, my coach was fat, and my shop teacher was missing fingers. What was the question - why do I hate the public school system?
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People who are tremendously concerned about their identification, their individuality, their self-expression, or their sense of humor, always seem to be missing the very things they pursue.
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The clever way death cuts us down, but makes it look like just a thinning-out. Generations never fall with one blow - that would be too sad and too obvious. Death prefers to do it piecemeal. The meadow is attacked from several sides at the same time. One of us goes one day; another some time afterwards; you have to stand back and look around you to take in what's missing, to grasp the vast slaughter of your generation...
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Franklin,—Washington,—they were left off without dying; they were merely missing one day.
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I haven't reported my missing credit card to the police because whoever stole it is spending less than my wife.
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Beware the politically obsessed. They are often bright and interesting, but they have something missing in their natures there is a hole, an empty place, and they use politics to fill it up. It leaves them somehow misshapen.
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If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of car payments.
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We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But if that drop was not in the ocean, I think the ocean would be less because of that missing drop. I do not agree with the big way of doing things.
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Get well cards have become so humorous that if you don't get sick you're missing half the fun.
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What's missing is the eyeballs in each of us, but it doesn't matter because you've got the bucks, the bucks, the bucks.
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You don't like Beethoven. You don't know what you're missing. Overtures like that, get my juices flowing. So powerful. But after his openings, to be honest, he does tend to get a little fucking boring.
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