The on and off of being rude and polite causes havoc with the mind, soul and spirit, let’s be kind in a cruel world.
DR. ZAINAB ANSARIShe has the scent of cinnamon summer that the roots of winter absorb.
More Dr. Zainab Ansari Quotes
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Her heart screams out, no one destroyed you, it was your own heart that became the pawn of pain, protect it.
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The wings of hope, carries gracious grateful genuine smiles, of memories that paint the path of memory, with faith as a strong foundation.
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She journaled frequently – what did I learn from this particular situation in relation to myself. These question helped her understand herself much better.
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She wished she never knew him, but how would she learn the lesson if it wasn’t because of his filth.
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The generosity of my kindness is something that I love about myself.
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I am a warrior queen with a reincarnation aura of phoenix and wolf breathing within me, with the heart of a firefly and a woman of words mixed with wisdom.
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She schools her heart and soul to let go of the pain that she feels or has ever felt or else it will never let her heal and grow.
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Her veins are filled with the ink that writes onto the paper of her life and canvas.
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With tears in my eyes, I wished I had not let them misuse generosity.
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She, looked in the mirror and cried but didn’t let her soul to bleed, instead made bruises as roses.
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Rise with the fire of survival and make the soul proud.
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The white pure sheet of her life had thunderous and royal purple lavendar pride with a golden heart.
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I understand that if it hurts, which it does immensely, I was being thawed, I was healing and blooming to feel and embrace the pain, so that I would grow from the seeds and roots of my story, into a tree of inspiration.
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She is the fertile earth that blooms rubies with her blood and honor.
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Her aura was filled with inked blue and red flowers that had words embedded on it.
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The pearls on her wrist, giving out the green light of emerald nurturing, sparks the flame of life in his eyes.
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Her heartbeats sang the melodies of victorious scars, that held the proofs of invisble doubts and cracks of holding on to patience.
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She has a bunny, that sleeps on her palm, he wished it was his hand in her palm instead.
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I pledge to set standards of what is acceptable to my sanity and what to phase out.
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I stood in the face of fear, with the smirk on my face, baiting it to have a go, so that I can embed my soul in the very aura that kept threatening my sanity.
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She wraps her cleansed mirrored soul around the filthy dirty lungs to free them towards sanity.
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Never, ever, again, test me, or else the volcanic eruption of my patience and power can melt you into ashes.
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Human beings burn in the hatred of self inflicted wounds, when they compare themselves with others.
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My breaths give out the stench of dark black pain, that rooted from the poison you gifted me with love.
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I have transformed from an autumn-drying cage to a spring-filled rainbow freedom soul.
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She was the scented wilting rose petal that decorated the pages of breaths of someone else.
DR. ZAINAB ANSARI