Sentences with phrase «telling powerful stories through»

Not exact matches

The short version is: I don't think the Exodus did happen in historical time, but that doesn't at all detract from its powerful spiritual truth, or from the ways we've constituted our community through telling this story in the first person plural, and through embracing the teaching that the Exodus didn't just happen then but unfolds even now.

We help corporate leaders tell their stories in a more powerful way through visual presentations.

This is not a slavery film told through the eyes of a white audience surrogate, this is Solomon Northup's story through and through, and Ejiofor brings the character to life in devastatingly powerful fashion.

While Baker is the lens through which the story is told, Ryder is its scythe - bearing, no - BS conscience, and a late diner scene in particular offers up powerful proof of (no pun intended here) her ability to kill softly.

The Search recounts a powerful story of conflict told through four lives that will be brought together by a shocking twist of fate.

Bonnie believes that story - telling is the most powerful tool we have to build bridges — «If we understand the struggles that they go through, we will change the way we act.»

The Narrow Road to the Deep North By Richard Flanagan Vintage • $ 15.95 • ISBN 9780804171472 Winner of the Man Booker Prize for Fiction in 2014, Flanagan's powerful novel tells the story of the WWII «bridge over the River Kwai» through the eyes of an Australian surgeon.

Only Child is a powerful story of forgiveness and healing told through the dramatic experience of six - year old Zach Taylor.

«As we've seen through the great response to work available through Kindle Singles, powerful stories can be told in a single sitting and are another wonderful outlet for writers to reach readers.

At this point, we can't know if Atomic is up to task of turning the videogame format into a topical, artistic medium through which powerful stories can be told.

, 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,

- SVP, Design & Product Development «Amy is able to sort through and synthesize large amounts of information to tell a powerful career story.

We help corporate leaders tell their stories in a more powerful way through visual presentations.