Sentences with phrase «take life as it comes kind»

I am honest, kind of shy, take life as it comes kind of person.

Not exact matches

In taking this sixth step, Christians affirm that the «tendency toward the human and the humane (toward «Christ») in the ultimate nature of things» which has existed since the beginning of time «has become evident and clear only now in the new order of relationships just coming into view» in the Christian community To be sure, «any community which becomes a vehicle in history of more profoundly humane patterns of life» can be a part of this new order, but the events around Jesus have at least a kind of priority as its first clear manifestation.

I am from U.S.A, I was diagnosed of ALS disease (Lou Gehrig's disease) in 2011 and I have tried all I can to get cured but all to no avail, my life was gradually coming to an end, until i saw a post in a health forum about a herbal doctor from Africa call DR Isaac who prepares herbal cure to cure ALS / and all kind of diseases including HIV, MND, Epilepsy, Leukemia, Asthma, Cancer, Gonorrhea etc, at first i doubted if it was real but decided to give it a try, when i contact this herbal doctor via his email, he prepared an ALS herbal portion and sent it to me via courier service, when i received this herbal portion, he gave me step by step instructions on how to apply it, when i applied it as instructed, i was cured of this deadly disease within 7 days, I could not walk or talk understandably before but after i took the herbal cure as he instructed i regained strength in my bones and i could talk properly unlike before, I am now free from the deadly disease, all thanks to Dr Isaac.

What's not so expected, what comes as something bordering on shock, of a gratifying kind, is how much else the film takes on in this buoyant and mercilessly frank look at Bradlee's life and career.

Films that might have fit this putative strand included the charming but overlong Timeless Stories, co-written and directed by Vasilis Raisis (and winner of the Michael Cacoyannis Award for Best Greek Film), a story that follows a couple (played by different actors at different stages of the characters» lives) across the temporal loop of their will - they, won't - they relationship from childhood to middle age and back again — essentially Julio Medem - lite, or Looper rewritten by Richard Curtis; Michalis Giagkounidis's 4 Days, where the young antiheroine watches reruns of Friends, works in an underpatronized café, freaks out her hairy stalker by coming on to him, takes photographs and molests invalids as a means of staving off millennial ennui, and causes ripples in the temporal fold, but the film is as dead as she is, so you hardly notice; Bob Byington's Infinity Baby, which may be a «science - fiction comedy» about a company providing foster parents with infants who never grow up, but is essentially the same kind of lame, unambitious, conformist indie comedy that has characterized U.S. independent cinema for way too long — static, meticulously framed shots in pretentious black and white, amoral yet supposedly lovable characters played deadpan by the usual suspects (Kieran Culkin, Nick Offerman, Megan Mullally, Kevin Corrigan), reciting apparently nihilistic but essentially soft - center dialogue, jangly indie music at the end, and a pretty good, if belated, Dick Cheney joke; and Petter Lennstrand's loveably lo - fi Up in the Sky, shown in the Youth Screen section, about a young girl abandoned by overworked parents at a sinister recycling plant, who is reluctantly adopted by a reconstituted family of misfits and marginalized (mostly puppets) who are secretly building a rocket — it's for anyone who has ever loved the Tintin moon adventures, books with resourceful heroines, narratives with oddball gangs, and the legendary episode of Angel where David Boreanaz turned into a Muppet.

Her initial representational painting would be done from life, out in the open air, then she would take the canvas home to her studio and work over it so that it took on an emotional resonance — something she described as: «that memory or dream thing I do that for me comes nearer reality than my objective kind of work».6 She painted on canvas with a very fine weave and coated it with a special primer to make the surface extremely smooth, blending one colour into the next, making sure that the brushstrokes were invisible.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

Sam Glover: As we talked more about it he was explaining — and he works at the public downtown city hospital — and in the grand scheme of his patients lives remembering to take their pills, and coming in for something that seems kind of far off is really low priority.