Quotes About Belonging

if you and I do not stay Christian, if we give up whatever little voice and influence we have inside the larger Christian community, won't we be an answer to the misguided prayers of the religious company men and their followers, who want the rest of us gone?

For those who regress, the fear of what lies beyond Complexity feels so terrifying, or the sense of belonging that is often found in strict Stage One communities feels so alluring, that they willingly resubmit to Stage One authority, or even authoritarianism.

Church!" she cried. "Why would I ever go there? I was already feeling terrible about myself. They'd just make me feel worse.

It's said that the Fremen scum drink the blood of their dead. Not the blood, sir. But all of a man's water ultimately, belongs to his people - to his tribe./ The human body is composed of some seventy percent water by weight./ A dead man, surely, no longer REQUIRES that water.

It is said that the Fremen has no conscience, having lost it in a burning desire for revenge. This is foolish. Only the rawest primitive and the sociopath have no conscience. The Fremen possesses a highly evolved world-view centered on the welfare of his people. His sense of belonging to the community is almost stronger than his sense of self. It is only to outsiders that these desert dwellers seem brutish Ã¢â'¬Â¦ just as outsiders appear to them. Pardot Kynes, The People of Arrakis

Do we derive our identity, our worth, from our families or from ourselves? —REVEREND MOTHER RAQUELLA BERTO-ANIRUL, Sisterhood Training Manual

We have to find a place that is ours. The doctors keep trying to make us fit into this world, but they're wrong. We need a world that fits us.

But I have no idea who I am." "Yeah. Welcome to the club.

We're all aliens to someone. Even among our own people, most of us still feel like complete foreigners from time to time. Usually associated with invasions, abductions, or other hostile acts, the term "alien" gets a bad rap. But over the years, the word has come to mean something very different to me... future friend material.

In almost any situation a client can ask me what to do and I can answer with "Be yourself. Tell the truth. The people who accept your truth are your people. The people who don't accept your truth aren't your people and that is OK." I

Now that she had lived in two worlds, would she ever again be completely at home in either of them? Or would part of her always long for the other, no matter where she was?

them the ABCs of meaning. The A is agency—autonomy, freedom, creativity, mastery; the belief that you can impact the world around you. The B is belonging—relationships, community, friends, family; the people that surround and nurture you. The C is cause—a calling, a mission, a direction, a purpose; a transcendent commitment beyond yourself that makes your life worthwhile.

Human beings are not meant to live alone. There is a fundamental biological imperative that propels you and every organism on this planet to be in a community, to be in relationship with other organisms.

We of alien looks or words must stick together.

Once you step inside, history has to be rewritten to include you. A fiction develops a story that weaves you into the social fabric, giving you roots and a local identity. You are assimilated, and in erasing your differences and making you one of their own, the community can maintain belief in its wholeness and purity. After two or three generations, nobody remembers the story is fiction. It has become fact. And this is how history is made.

I never expected to be happy, to have a sense of belonging somewhere. I didn't grow up with a sense that this was possible or even desirable. I'm quite sure my parents didn't either, so I come by this honestly.

She didn't want to have anything to do with the party. She was tired of feeling like she didn't fit in, but she didn't want to go home, either, because she was a tired of being lonely and she was a little drunk.

I could live here forever. Maybe even become real New Yorker someday.

Being lonely isn't about wanting to be with other people—it's about wanting to be with people who really care about you.

Maggad glances nervously around. He's well on the way to regretting this incursion into the newsroom, where he stands out like the proverbial turd in the punch bowl. He might own the place, but he doesn't belong.

Detective Karl Rolvaag belonged in the Midwest. This he knew in his heart, and he was reminded of it every day when he went to work.

In the meadow, in adoration: am I not yours?

Home, you think. Home. This is my world. This is where I come from. Everyone I know, everyone I ever heard of, grew up down there, under that relentless and exquisite blue.

In all our searching the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other.