#george mueller quotes

[buryme-makeoutcreek]

Communication Error: In art people have things to say and they are important, they pound against their chest and they cry and music swells but here, here my words slide and scrap up my throat amounting in nothing. I want to tell you everything, but I can barely open my mouth to tell you my name.

Richard Siken// Call Me By Your Name dir. Luca Guadagnino// Margaret Atwood// Lisel Mueller// // Virginia Woolf// Richard Siken// Jeanette Winterson// Georges Bataille// Inside Llewyn Davis dir. The Coen Brothers // Mikko Harvey// The Rehearsal, Nathan Fielder//Hieu Minh Nguyen

#if someone knows who the yellow text is by please let me know! i screenshotted it months ago and can’t find anything #communication error #Richard Siken #web weaving #nathan fielder #the rehearsal #inside llewyn davis #mikko harvey #hieu minh nguyen #virginia woolf #lisel mueller #margaret atwood #georges bataille #luca guadagnino #timothee chamalet #coen brothers #poetry #quotes #art #my web weaving #call me by your name #miscommunication

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

God delights to increase the faith of his children. We ought, instead of wanting no trials before victory, no exercise for patience, to be willing to take them from God’s hands as a means. Trials, obstacles, difficulties, and sometimes defeats, are the very food of faith.

George Mueller

#God #delight #increase #faith #children of God #trials #difficulties #defeat #food of faith #George Mueller #Christian Quotes

[hiswordsarekisses]

It is good to praise and trust the LORD despite our afflictions, and indeed, suffering itself presents an invitation to come before God in prayer (James 5:13). Suffering offers us a "nisayon" (נִסָּיוֹן), a test, for our hearts to be exercised in ways otherwise rendered impossible should the path of our lives be attended without real struggle...

In this connection I am reminded of a quote from Sadhu Sundar Singh, “Should pain and suffering, sorrow, and grief, rise up like clouds and overshadow for a time the Sun of Righteousness and hide Him from your view, do not be dismayed, for in the end this cloud of woe will descend in showers of blessing on your head, and the Sun of Righteousness rise upon you to set no more for ever” (Wisdom of the Sadhu).

It’s been said that both the devil and God want your soul, but their approaches are diametrically opposite to one another.... God offers you a bitter cup that, after it has been duly tasted, will be turned sweet, whereas the devil offers you an artificially sweetened cup that, after it has been duly tasted, will be found bitter to the last of its dregs... When you accept your suffering as ordained by God - by the LORD of Glory who could easily deliver you from all trace of its presence in but the twinkling of an eye – your heartache is sanctified, and your praise becomes more dear to Him. Only the wise and loving LORD knows how bitter waters may be made sweet; only the great Refiner of our souls knows how to bring eternal beauty up from ashes... So heal me, O LORD (even if that means suffering and pain for my life), and I shall be healed; save me, O LORD (do whatever it takes to bring me to the end of myself), and I shall be saved – for you are my praise.

If you are afflicted, troubled, or in any kind of pain, you have a great opportunity to glorify your Father in Heaven by offering Him your praise.... Praising God is the appropriate response to all of reality; the affirmation of God’s glory transforms everything. “Is anyone among you feeling bad? Let him pray. Is anyone feeling good? Let him sing praise” (James 5:13). Remember that regardless of how you presently feel, your emotional life is centered in the Presence of God... As George Mueller once affirmed, “Be assured – if you walk with Him and look to Him, and expect help from Him, He will never fail you.” Amen... [Hebrew for Christians]

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Jeremiah 17:14 Hebrew reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jer17-14-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page (pdf):

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jer17-14-lesson.pdf

[tiand]

"Quote Of The Day"

“The beginning of anxiety is the end of faith. And the beginning of true faith is the end of anxiety.” — George Mueller

View On WordPress

#George Mueller

[yhwhrulz]

Faith does not operate in the realm of the possible. There is no glory for God in that which is humanly possible. Faith.... — Quote by George Mueller

[mstexalicious1961]

Quote of the Day

I have joyfully dedicated my whole life to the object of exemplifying how much may be accomplished by prayer and faith.

Author: George Mueller

[hymnrevival]

My Heavenly Friend - George Mueller by hymn Revival Via Flickr: MY HEAVENLY FRIEND George Mueller (1805-1898) “Oh, this is a reality, not a fable, that the Lord Jesus Christ is our friend. We should not be satisfied till we are brought to this, that we know the Lord Jesus Christ experientially to be our friend and habitually to be our friend. Just ponder this. Habitually, never leaving, never forsaking us, at all times and under all circumstances ready to prove Himself to be our friend.” Hymn Revival

#george mueller #George Muller #Hymn Revival #george mueller quotes #my heavenly friend

[craigtowens]

George Mueller On Meditation “I saw more clearly than ever, that the first great and primary business to which I ought to attend every day was, to have my soul happy in the Lord.

#Bible study #George Mueller #God&039;s Word #meditation #prayer #quote

[lastbreaking]

I was a Prohibition agent, I drowned him with my bare hands.

My name isn’t Mueller.

#boardwalk empire #be #george mueller #nelson van alden #dean o'banion #michael shannon #gif #gifs #edits #quotes #yeah im watching this in 2018

[furryalligator]

#repost: @the.daily.don: Day 442: In which a FEMA trailer filled with misplaced white rage and Cheeto dust lays out his charm offensive. #resist #magaisformorons #lockthemup #shitholepresident #treasonweasel #stablegenius #dailydrawing #cartoon #dumptrump #notmypresident #donthecon #thedailydon

#resist #treasonweasel #dumptrump #cartoon #donthecon #lockthemup #dailydrawing #stablegenius #thedailydon #magaisformorons #shitholepresident #notmypresident #repost #robert mueller #donald trump #@jrduquette #editorial cartoon #literary quote #george bernard shaw #politician #political career

[fatalferalfemme]

“The event was also intended to include individuals outside the university—writers, artists, and activists—who were reflecting on society in less rational but often far more creative and perceptive ways than those within the academic sphere. To me, figures in America like John Cage and William S. Burroughs, both of whom participated in the conference, seemed the closest equivalent to French thinkers. They were “philosopher-artists” in the Nietzschean sense, deriving from their artistic practices a very incisive and clinical vision of the world. 

With “Schizo-Culture,” I became estranged from the university, but it drew me closer to SoHo and downtown circles. I started interviewing artists like Jack Smith, Philip Glass, Steve Reich, Robert Wilson, Lee Breuer, and Douglas Dunn in Semiotext(e)—which served the double purpose of creating material for the magazine and making artists talk theory without them knowing it, giving me a new territory in which to work. The original editors began departing for various campuses throughout the country, and the new committee replacing them was made up of non-academics. Semiotext(e)’s publication of “Georges Bataille” (1976), “Anti-Oedipus” (1977), and especially “Nietzsche’s Return” (1978)—which featured texts by Derrida, Cage, Deleuze, Foucault, and Kenneth King—attracted artists... 

We wanted to avoid secondhand commentaries and so stimulate thinking in a different way, eliciting perceptual or pragmatic connections, something the previous decade’s artists had simply called “getting the information.” In other words, the publication operated on the model of “percepts,” unrefined blocks of sense and sensations that don’t have to be quoted or worn on one’s sleeve, but rather act directly on one’s sensibility and generate other projects.

We were pleased by all the attention, of course, but also worried. Unlike France, where people are constantly fighting obstacles, America has a way of destroying everything positively, by giving you an overdose of what you want. It was becoming urgent for us, once more, to shift paradigms. If French theory was becoming dangerously popular, we had to find its equivalent somewhere else—in America. Chris Kraus, a downtown filmmaker who had been involved with the St. Marks Poetry Project and the “New York School of Writing,” came up with an idea. Why not, in the face of French theory, publish the American equivalent in writerly terms—non-mainstream American writers who were deliberately using an “expanded I” to break down the narcissistic self, this famous “individual” on which American culture was mythically based? At the end of the ’80s, just before Camille Paglia started bashing “rigid foreign ideology,” denouncing wholesale the dangerous seduction of Lacan, Derrida, and Foucault, Semiotext(e)’s Native Agents series was launched, starting with Cookie Mueller’s Walking Through Clear Water in a Pool Painted Black and Ann Rower’s If You’re a Girl. Yet again, we moved on.”

https://www.artforum.com/print/200304/my-80s-better-than-life-4509

[officialyourdailyinspiration]

"Christians do not practically remember that while we are saved by grace, altogether by grace, so that in the matter of salvation works are altogether excluded; yet that so far as the rewards of grace are concerned, in the world to come, there is an intimate connection between the life of the Christian here and the enjoyment and the glory in the day of Christ’s appearing." - George Mueller

#Christians #salvation #grace #rewards #eternity #Christ #second coming #George Mueller #Christian Quotes

[sleepy-weezypeezy]

Direct Quotes: Richie’s Bisexuality in the Book

Richie and girls

• Looking at a dirty magazine with girls in it and getting turned on.

as Richie Tozier was sneaking a look at the half-undressed girls in a copy of Gem he had found at the bottom of his father’s socks-and-underwear drawer and getting a regular good boner

—

• His attraction to Beverly.

Richie liked Bev a lot. Well, he liked her, but not that way. He admired her looks (and knew he wasn’t alone—girls like Sally Mueller and Greta Bowie hated Beverly like fire, still too young to understand how they could have everything else so easily . . . and still have to compete in the matter of looks with a girl who lived in one of those slummy apartments on Lower Main Street), but mostly he liked her because she was tough and had a really good sense of humor. Also, she usually had cigarettes. He liked her, in short, because she was a good guy. Still, he had once or twice caught himself wondering what color underwear she was wearing under her small selection of rather faded skirts, and that was not the sort of thing you wondered about the other guys, was it?

And, Richie had to admit, she was one hell of a pretty guy.

[...]

“Hi, Richie,” Bev said, and when she turned toward him he saw a purple-blackish bruise on her right cheek, like the shadow of a crow’s wing. He was again struck by her good looks … only it occurred to him now that she might actually be beautiful. It had never really occurred to him until that moment that there might be beautiful girls outside of the movies, or that he himself might know one. Perhaps it was the bruise that allowed him to see the possibility of her beauty—an essential contrast, a particular flaw which first drew attention to itself and then somehow defined the rest: the gray-blue eyes, the naturally red lips, the creamy unblemished child’s skin. There was a tiny spray of freckles across her nose.

[...]

She leaned against Richie’s shoulder for a moment and Richie had just time to reflect that her touch, and the sensation of her lightly carried weight, was not exactly unpleasant.

[...]

Her eyes, that fine clear shade of blue-gray, turned up to his. They were coolly amused. She pretended to primp her hair and asked him, “Oh dear, am I being asked out on a date?”

For a moment Richie was uncharacteristically flustered. He actually felt a blush rising in his cheeks. He had made the offer in a perfectly natural way, just as he had made it to Ben … except hadn’t he said something to Ben about owesies? Yes. But he hadn’t said anything about owesies to Beverly.

Richie suddenly felt a bit weird. He had dropped his eyes, retreating from her amused glance, and realized now that her skirt had ridden up a bit when she shifted forward to drop the ice-cream cone in the litter barrel, and he could see her knees. He raised his eyes but that was no help; now he was looking at the beginning swells of her bosoms.

Richie, as he usually did in such moments of confusion, took refuge in absurdity.

“Yes! A date!” he screamed, throwing himself on his knees before her and holding his clasped hands up. “Please come! Please come! I shall ruddy kill meself if you say no, ay-wot? Wot-wot?”

“Oh, Richie, you’re such a fuzzbrain,” she said, giggling again … but weren’t her cheeks also a trifle flushed? If so, it made her look prettier than ever.

[...]

“Sure,” she said. “Thank you very much. Think of it! My first date. Just wait until I write it in my diary tonight.” She clasped her hands together between her budding breasts, fluttered her eyelashes rapidly, and then laughed.

“I wish you’d stop calling it that,” Richie said.

She sighed. “You don’t have much romance in your soul.”

“Damn right I don’t.”

But he felt somehow delighted with himself. The world seemed suddenly very clear to him, and very friendly. He found himself glancing sideways at her from time to time. She was looking in the shop windows—at the dresses and nightgowns in Cornell-Hopley’s, at the towels and pots in the window of the Discount Barn, and he stole glances at her hair, the line of her jaw. He observed the way her bare arms came out of the round holes of her blouse. He saw the edge of her slip strap. All of these things delighted him. He could not have said why, but what had happened in George Denbrough’s bedroom had never seemed more distant to him than it did right then. It was time to go, time to meet Ben, but he would sit here just a moment longer while her eyes window-shopped, because it was good to look at her, and be with her.

[...]

Bev spotted daisies growing on the riverbank and picked one. She held it first under Richie’s chin and then under Ben’s chin to see if they liked butter. She said they both did. As she held the flower under their chins, each was conscious of her light touch on their shoulders and the clean scent of her hair.

[...]

She scolded Richie all the time they were picking them up again, and Richie joked and screeched in many Voices, and thought to himself how beautiful she was.

—

• The full story of his ex-girlfriend Sandy and his vasectomy.

“Well,” Richie was saying, “I could make this long and sad or I could give you the Blondie and Dagwood comic-strip version, but I’ll settle for something in the middle. The year after I moved out to California I met a girl, and we fell pretty hard for each other. Started living together. She was on the pill at first, but it made her feel sick almost all the time. She talked about getting an IUD, but I wasn’t too crazy about that—the first stories about how they might not be completely safe were just starting to come out in the papers.

“We had talked a lot about kids, and had pretty well decided we didn’t want them even if we decided to legalize the relationship. Irresponsible to bring kids into such a shitty, dangerous, overpopulated world . . . and blah-blah-blah, babble-babble-babble, let’s go out and put a bomb in the men’s room of the Bank of America and then come on back to the crashpad and smoke some dope and talk about the difference between Maoism and Trotskyism, if you see what I mean.

“Or maybe I’m being too hard on both of us. Shit, we were young and reasonably idealistic. The upshot was that I got my wires cut, as the Beverly Hills crowd puts it with their unfailing vulgar chic. The operation went with no problem and I had no adverse aftereffects.

[...]

“Sandy and I lived together for two and a half years,” Richie went on. “Came really close to getting married twice. As things turned out, I guess we saved ourselves a lot of heartache and all that community-property bullshit by keeping it simple. She got an offer to join a corporate law-firm in Washington around the same time I got an offer to come to KLAD as a weekend jock—not much, but a foot in the door. She told me it was her big chance and I had to be the most insensitive male chauvinist oinker in the United States to be dragging my feet, and furthermore she’d had it with California anyway. I told her I also had a chance. So we thrashed it out, and we trashed each other out, and at the end of all the thrashing and trashing Sandy went.

“About a year after that I decided to try and get the vasectomy reversed. No real reason for it, and I knew from the stuff I’d read that the chances were pretty spotty, but I thought what the hell.”

“You were seeing someone steadily then?” Bill asked.

“No—that’s the funny part of it,” Richie said, frowning. “I just woke up one day with this . . . I dunno, this hobbyhorse about getting it reversed.”

“You must have been nuts,” Eddie said. “General anesthetic instead of a local? Surgery? Maybe a week in the hospital afterward?”

“Yeah, the doctor told me all of that stuff,” Richie replied. “And I told him I wanted to go ahead anyway. I don’t know why. The doc asked me if I understood the aftermath of the operation was sure to be painful while the result was only going to be a coin-toss at best. I said I did. He said okay, and I asked him when—my attitude being the sooner the better, you know. So he says hold your horses, son, hold your horses, the first step is to get a sperm sample just to make sure the reversal operation is necessary. I said, ‘Come on, I had the exam after the vasectomy. It worked.’ He told me that sometimes the vasa reconnected spontaneously. ‘Yo mamma!’ I says. ‘Nobody ever told me that.’ He said the chances were very small—infinitesimal, really—but because the operation was so serious, we ought to check it out. So I popped into the men’s room with a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogue and jerked off into a Dixie cup—”

“Beep-beep, Richie,” Beverly said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Richie said. “The part about the Frederick’s catalogue is a lie—you never find anything that good in a doctor’s office. Anyway, the doc called me three days later and asked me which I wanted first, the good news or the bad news.

“ ‘Gimme the good news first,’ I said.

“ ‘The good news is the operation won’t be necessary,’ he said. ‘The bad news is that anybody you’ve been to bed with over the last two or three years could hit you with a paternity suit pretty much at will.’

“ ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’ I asked him.

“ ‘I’m telling you that you aren’t shooting blanks and haven’t been for quite awhile now,’ he said. ‘Millions of little wigglies in your sperm sample. Your days of going gaily in bareback with no questions asked have temporarily come to an end, Richard.’

“I thanked him and hung up. Then I called Sandy in Washington.

“ ‘Rich!’ she says to me,” and Richie’s voice suddenly became the voice of this girl Sandy whom none of them had ever met. It was not an imitation or even a likeness, exactly; it was more like an auditory painting. “ ‘It���s great to hear from you! I got married!’

“ ‘Yeah, that’s great,’ I said. ‘You should have let me know. I would have sent you a blender.’

“She goes, ‘Same old Richie, always full of gags.’

“So I said ‘Sure, same old Richie, always full of gags. By the way, Sandy, you didn’t happen to have a kid or anything after you left L.A., did you? Or maybe an unscheduled d and c, or something?’

“ ‘That gag isn’t so funny, Rich,’ she said, and I had a brainwave that she was getting ready to hang up on me, so I told her what happened. She started laughing, only this time it was real hard—she was laughing the way I always used to laugh with you guys, like somebody had told her the world’s biggest bellybuster. So when she finally starts slowing down I ask her what in God’s name is funny. ‘It’s just so wonderful,’ she said. ‘This time the joke’s on you. After all these years the joke is finally on Records Tozier. How many bastards have you sired since I came east, Rich?’

“ ‘I take it that means you still haven’t experienced the joys of motherhood?’ I ask her.

“ ‘I’m due in July,’ she says. ‘Were there any more questions?”

“ ‘Yeah,’ I go. ‘When did you change your mind about the immorality of bringing children into such a shitty world?’

“ ‘When I finally met a man who wasn’t a shit,’ she answers, and hangs up.”

Bill began to laugh. He laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Richie said. “I think she cut it off quick so she’d really get the last word, but she could have hung on the line all day. I know when I’ve been aced. I went back to the doctor a week later and asked him if he could be a little clearer on the odds against that sort of spontaneous regeneration. He said he’d talked with some of his colleagues about the matter. It turned out that in the three-year period 1980–82, the California branch of the AMA logged twenty-three reports of spontaneous regeneration. Six of those turned out to be simply botched operations. Six others were either hoaxes or cons—guys looking to take a bite out of some doctor’s bank account. So . . . eleven real ones in three years.”

“Eleven out of how many?” Beverly asked.

“Twenty-eight thousand six hundred and eighteen,” Richie said calmly.

Silence around the table.

“So I went and beat Irish Sweepstakes odds,” Richie said, “and still no kid to show for it. That give you any good chucks, Eds?”

—

Richie and boys

• Conscious of looking queer in public.

Alarmed, Richie put an arm around Bill’s shoulders (after taking a quick glance around to make sure no one who might mistake them for a couple of fagolas was looking).

“You’re okay,” he said. “You’re okay, Billy, right? Come on. Turn off the waterworks.”

“I didn’t wuh-wuh-want h-him t-to g-g-get kuh-hilled!” Bill sobbed. “TH-THAT WUH-WUH-WASN’T ON MY M-M-M-MIND AT UH-UH-ALL!”

“Christ, Billy, I know it wasn’t,” Richie said. “If you’d wanted to scrub him, you woulda pushed him downstairs or something.” Richie patted Bill’s shoulder clumsily and gave him a hard little hug before letting go. “Come on, quit bawlin, okay? You sound like a baby.”

—

• Checking out Bill’s shoulders and back and describing him as handsome.

Looking at Bill’s back, which was amazingly broad for a boy of eleven-going-on-twelve, watching it work under the duffel coat, the shoulders slanting first one way and then the other as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other, Richie suddenly became sure that they were invulnerable . . . they would live forever and ever. Well . . . perhaps not they, but Bill would. Bill had no idea of how strong he was, how somehow sure and perfect.

[...]

Bill was here, and Bill would take care; Bill would not let things get out of control. He was the tallest of them, and surely the most handsome.

—

• His relationship with Eddie and his love for him.

Richie came bopping down to the stream, glanced at Ben with some interest, and then pinched Eddie’s cheek.

“Don’t do that! I hate it when you do that, Richie.”

“Ah, you love it, Eds,” Richie said, and beamed at him.

[...]

“Oh—you mean it was your idea, Eds? Jesus, I’m sorry.” He fell down in front of Eddie and began salaaming wildly again.

“Get up, stop it, you’re splattering mud on me!” Eddie cried.

Richie jumped to his feet a second time and pinched Eddie’s cheek. “Cute, cute, cute!” Richie exclaimed.

“Stop it, I hate that!”

[...]

“They’ll all pinch my cheek and tell me how much I’ve grown,” Eddie said.

“That’s cause they know how cute you are, Eds—just like me. I saw what a cutie you were the first time I met you.”

“Sometimes you’re really a turd, Richie.”

“It takes one to know one, Eds, and you know em all.”

[...]

“This wise man,” Richie said, “told me this: ‘No matter how much you squirm and dance, the last two drops go in your pants.’ And that’s why there’s so much cancer in the world, Eddie my love.”

[...]

“Put him down,” Beverly said. “He can stay here.”

“It’s too dark,” Richie sobbed. “You know . . . it’s too dark. Eds . . . he . . .”

“No, it’s okay,” Ben said. “Maybe this is where he’s supposed to be. I think maybe it is.”

They put him down, and Richie kissed Eddie’s cheek. Then he looked blindly up at Ben. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Come on, Richie.”

Richie got up and turned toward the door. “Fuck you, Bitch!” he cried suddenly, and kicked the door shut with his foot. It made a solid chukking sound as it closed and latched.

“Why’d you do that?” Beverly asked.

“I don’t know,” Richie said, but he knew well enough.

—

How IT manifests itself to Richie

• Sees himself as the werewolf, who is partly a man and partly a monster that can’t help the way he is.

The movies were great. The Teenage Frankenstein was suitably gross. The Teenage Werewolf was somehow scarier, though . . . perhaps because he also seemed a little sad. What had happened wasn’t his own fault. There was this hypnotist who had fucked him up, but the only reason he’d been able to was that the kid who turned into the werewolf was full of anger and bad feelings. Richie found himself wondering if there were many people in the world hiding bad feelings like that. Henry Bowers was just overflowing with bad feelings, but he sure didn’t bother hiding them.

[...]

Richie chanced a glance behind him as he flung himself onto the package carrier and saw the Werewolf crossing the lawn toward them, less than twenty feet away now. Blood and slobber mixed on its high-school jacket. White bone gleamed through its pelt about the right temple. There were white smudges of sneezing powder on the sides of its nose. And Richie saw two other things which seemed to complete the horror. There was no zipper on the thing’s jacket; instead there were big fluffy orange buttons, like pompoms. The other thing was worse. It was the other thing that made him feel as if he might faint, or just give up and let it kill him. A name was stitched on the jacket in gold thread, the kind of thing you could get done down at Machen’s for a buck if you wanted it.

Stitched on the bloody left breast of the Werewolf’s jacket, stained but readable, were the words RICHIE TOZIER.

—

• IT chooses to taunt him with Beverly and Eddie.

“You hear me, Richie? Bring your yo-yo. Have Beverly wear a big full skirt with four or five petticoats underneath. Have her wear her husband’s ring around her neck! Get Eddie to wear his saddle-shoes! We’ll play some bop, Richie! We’ll play AAALLLL THE HITS!”

—

The final verdict? Richie Tozier is bi as fuck.

#richie tozier #reddie #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #sandy (it) #stephen king's it #bi richie #bi richie tozier

[benisasoftboi]

Unorganised thoughts on Trails of Cold Steel II:

they still haven’t told me why it’s Class VII

So I liked this WAY more than CS1, thumbs up

I am annoyed that the only new location was Ymir (WHAT A COINCIDENCE that all the important places in the war were specifically ones Rean had been to already)

I just really wanna go to Parm idk

Bless Anton for showing up right at the end and giving me just enough AP to make A0

(fav Anton and Ricky subplot yet, god I love those guys)

I LOVED how tactile all the reunions were! I love it when fictional characters hug it makes me happy

I found it extremely funny that the final boss straight up tells the characters ‘hey, there’s literally no point to fighting me, you’ll gain nothing except closure I guess’ like that’s VERY on the nose and meta for a final boss

The game does have some real ending fatigue though, I don’t think we needed the epilogue

I did like the final boss though - up until that point, I had become so good at using my Dream Team of Rean, Elliot, Machias and Jusis (or Nuke-sis, as I call him, for his insane levels of arts damage output) that everything had got kinda dull for me. But final boss was actually a challenge, I had to think rather than just using the strategy that had worked on everything else

Which was Rean delays, Elliot heals/deals arts damage, Jusis drops arts nukes, and Machias does miscellaneous support/uses his link ability to keep Jusis’s EP topped up

Oh yeah I had them linked through pretty much the whole game and they hated it and it was super funny

So OH MAN, in their linked victory battle ending screen thing, Jusis goes ‘not bad, you actually held your own for once’

And it’s a little muffled, so the first time I heard it I swear I thought Machias responded with ‘you know what you can hold? Your damn top!’ and I dropped my controller. Had to go out of my way to win another battle with a link attack because no, no way-

He

Um

He said ‘tongue’

Anyway, characters!

Rean: Immediately upon starting up the game I found Ride Along Estelle in my DLC inventory and equipped it in the hopes that it would inspire Rean to be a better protagonist. It... kinda worked? I don’t hate him anymore, and I was pretty hyped to learn he was Osbourne’s son

And then Lloyd showed up immediately afterwards and I was like ‘oh wait here’s a protagonist I actually LOVE, nvm bye Rean lol’

Alisa: I literally never use Alisa unless the game makes me lol she was there and I don’t hate her but also I cannot remember a single interesting thing she did. Even during her one bit of plot relevance she was overshadowed by Angelica it’s hilarious that the marketing makes her out to be the deteuragonist 

Elliot: A GOOD BOY who served me incredibly well with his off the charts healing crafts, I can’t believe I started CS1 not liking him much and thinking him useless. I love the little dance he does in his idle animation

Laura: I still like Laura, I wish she was more plot relevant. I don’t feel strongly about her, but she’s always a welcome addition to any scene

Machias: Unpopular opinion probably but I really like him, even if his outfit in this game was awful. So are his alt outfits. Fashion disaster. I bought him contact lenses from a shady highway business man because he looks better without glasses. I made him ludicrously bulky, if he’d just had some kind of taunt craft to protect Jusis (squishy mage) with he’d be a perfect tank

I’m a fan of him in a ‘this is my trash son’ kind of way lol

Emma: Uhhh kinda boring which is impressive since she’s actually important and pseudo-related to Vita and all. Btw I guessed she was a witch in chapter goddamn three of CS1 after reading the folklore book, and I find it extremely wild that it’s either a dragged out, foregone conclusion if you have read the book, OR witches even existing is completely out of nowhere if you haven’t

Jusis: My favourite, because I’m basic. But like, he’s seriously the most interesting of the guys, and I made him Rean’s best friend (only one I got to rank 7 with lol). And his bonding event in Bareahard was so gooood!

I find it incredibly funny that he insists he and Machias aren’t friends because 1. Yes you are and 2. Do you even have any other non-Rean friends, guy? You literally never hang out with anyone else unless it’s plot related

Still low key ship it. Enjoy that Rean does too, apparently. Still reeling over their Trial Chest’s quote

His second S-Craft is ridiculous looking

Fie: Most interesting girl, love how she just doesn’t get flustered ever, funniest character, best girl in the game, what the HELL was that outfit

Gaius: I keep forgetting Gaius exists lol. I don’t dislike him, but he’s not very interesting to me. He’s Zin, or Noel

Millium: Man do I want to know more about Millium. Her whole thing about learning to cry... so sad and SO fascinating. What is the deal with her and Altina?!?

Sara: I hated Sara at the start of CS1. Now I adore her. God she’s just the best. Please let her interact with Schera please please please Falcom

Towa: Cutest! She’s so cute and I still love her and I did her final event even though she is TOO GOOD for Rean! She got to be a captain! I love her!

As for more minor characters - still think Angie’s great, just wish she wasn’t kinda creepy about her love of girls, deeply dislike that the game ship teases her and GEORGE, who I still otherwise find inoffensive but also, you know, male, Alfin is great, Toval is great too and I still can’t get over him being Toby, stop teasing Claire with Rean let there be one woman who isn’t into him please, oh good Sharon’s here and they don’t do that with her and she’s awesome also can’t believe I used to not like her, more Olivier always please, same with Mueller, Celine is Morgana from P5 except better in every conceivable way, Crow :(, all the Ouroboros lot are great as always, and Elise is easily my least favourite character in this franchise and can get in the sun for all I care 

I read a transcript of the drama CD and hey Rean’s dad can also get in the sun for saying that his adopted son isn’t good enough to marry his biological daughter like where do you even start-

I love that I’ve gone from reacting to Ouroboros appearances like ‘oh shit oh no’ to going ‘oh shit it’s these fucking clowns (affectionate) again’

Still love Beryl. Also love Lambert

When they mentioned ‘Mueller’s friend’ I thought it would be Julia and I was so excited and then so disappointed that it was Neithardt who I still don’t like

Elliot’s dad looks ridiculous riding on top of that tank

I loved riding the bike around SO MUCH, even if it took me a while to get a hang of the controls  

Aurelia Le Guin is just Edelgard Fire Emblem, right? And Bardias is Claude? Except I guess this game came first, so like, other way around

Man I loved flying around on the Courageous. Also I FINALLY got a map, all I wanted in CS1 was to see a map of the country 

However, Act 1 was definitely my favourite part - the sequence where the kids have to sneak through the railway lines under the bridge to get to Garrelia is one of my favourite parts of this entire series. I kind of wanted the whole game to just be this group of teenagers trying to lay low and survive a civil war while also travelling and helping out from place to place

I uh... I want JRPG Life is Strange 2

Why is there a snowboarding minigame. I mean, I loved it, but... why is it there?

I still really miss the old battle orbment designs from Sky. The ARCUSs just aren’t as cool :(

I watched the secret Black Records scene on YouTube and I am so happy to finally have an explanation for Rosine, it was really bothering me that she seemed so out of place at a military academy

I’m very very hype to play CS3 based on the spoilers I have for who will be making appearances...

:D

Seriously why is everything in these games azure though just say blue-

#trails of cold steel 2 #trails of cold steel #trails series #kiseki series #long post #erebonia arc

[luthienne]

Do you have quotes about stubbornness in the positive sense?

“To stand on my own two feet again, to fight alone, to take myself back, to depend on no one.”

—Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin: Vol. 1

“Finally I woke up and said to myself: Fuck it. This is madness. And reminded myself that if you’re a survivor, the thing to do is survive.”

—Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters

“The damage is all done and I will get through it all right because there is no damage anyone can do to me which will be permanent.”

—Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters

“We must resist. We must refuse to disappear.”

—Margaret Atwood, The Animals in That Country

“So I shall come back. Tell lots of lies and fairy stories — or not at all, and just refuse politely to answer questions — and start over again. It’s a bit frightening and a bit hard. But it must be done.”

—Martha Gellhorn, Selected Letters

“A river shaped her / smoothed her with sand and battered / her against the shore, and she / resisted, she is still here.”

—Margaret Atwood, Two-headed Poems

“Help me, I don’t want to weep for myself. I’m not giving up.”

—Susan Sontag, I, etcetera: Stories  

“Your modest first task for your appearance is to try to fall as gracefully as possible, never letting yourself forget even for a moment that this is exactly the way it should be, and that this first attempt will have absolutely no bearing on how it will turn out in the future.”

—Sergei Prokofiev, Selected Letters

“…everything disturbs me, tears me to pieces, ravages me, and I make efforts to rise.”

—Gustave Flaubert, in a letter to George Sand

“Always, over and over, these days and nights will come, the anxiety, the aversion, the doubt. And I will still live, and I will still love life.”

—Hermann Hesse, from Wandering 

“—for I know the hurts in me are all of my own making—& I must face them fearlessly—& try to gain something from them & without poison remaining.”

—Alfred Stieglitz, in a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe

“The moment of crisis had come, and I must face it. My old fears, my diffidence, my shyness, my hopeless sense of inferiority, must be conquered now and thrust aside.”

—Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca

“It will undoubtedly take quite a period of fumbling before I start on a new path, but I’m started—and seem to settle down to it every day as tho’ it is the only thing to do.”

—Georgia O’Keeffe, in a letter to Jean Toomer

“I just feel I’m bound to seem all wrong most of the time—so there is nothing to do but walk ahead and make the best of it—”

—Georgia O’Keeffe, Georgia O’Keeffe: A Life

“Right then she knows herself even less than she knows the sea. Her courage comes from not knowing herself, but going ahead nevertheless. Now knowing yourself is inevitable, and not knowing yourself demands courage.”

—Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories

“And I knew then / that I would have to live, / and go on living: what sorrow it was; / and still what sorrow ignites / but does not consume / my heart.”

—Jane Kenyon, “Evening Sun”

“how we climb out of our griefs / again and again and rise”

—Lisel Mueller, Waving from Shore: Poems

“In this there is no measuring with time, a year doesn’t matter, ten years are nothing. Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn’t force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come.”

—Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet

“Headlong I was at first, and headlong I continue—precipitously rushing forward through all manner of nettles and briars instead of keeping the path;”

—Elizabeth Barrett, in a letter to Robert Browning

“I know that there are thorns in the hedges, but that does not prevent me from putting out my hands and finding flowers there. If all are not beautiful, all are interesting. Such is life! And if one does not take life like that, then how can one endure it?”

—George Sand, in a letter to Gustave Flaubert

“No, I’d never been to this country before. No, I didn’t know where the roads would lead me. No, I didn’t intend to turn back.”

—Mary Oliver, Felicity

“…I am ready to begin everything all over again.”

—Boris Pasternak, Letters Summer 1926

“Along with the differences that abide in each of us, there is also in each of us the maverick, the darling stubborn one who won’t listen, who insists, who chooses preference or the spirited guess over yardsticks or even history. I suspect this maverick is somewhat what the soul is, or at least that the soul lives close by and companionably with its agitating and inquiring force.”

—Mary Oliver, Long Life: Essays and Other Writings

#ask #anon #compilation #positive stubbornness to me = determination / tenacity / grit / hope / belief #of hope to bite on like a bullet

[yhwhrulz]

Whatever tries us in any way, speak to the Lord about it. — Quote by George Mueller