I am the master of my will and I control what I do , how i do it, who I talk to etc. No one masters me, its not in my nature to dominate others or be dominated. Its important that all people get to have their say in the affairs of their lives.
wami Rama was one of the foremost Yogis in this century to go to west and Spread the roots of Spirituality.
When Swami Rama was small child, the Astrologers prepared his Horoscope and told his parents that he will die at the age of 28. Hearing this bad news, Swami Rama, then a child, started crying.
Suddenly from no where, A Saint came to his house and said “Son, you don’t worry, I will take care of you and you are not going to die”. That Saint was none other than his own Guru.
After some years Swami Rama left home to join his Guru and forgot completely about the prediction of astrologers.
His Guru asked him to go to many Great Sages and through them Swami Rama became aware of many esoteric secrets and Powerful Mantras of many traditions.
Swami Rama used to love wandering in Himalayas. One day he was Climbing a Difficult Hill and suddenly he slipped and Lost Control.
Falling down the Mountain, he was stopped barely at the edge of a cliff when his belly was pierced by a wild shrub and now his Body was hanging from the Cliff.
Blood was coming out and Swami Rama’s life was in danger. In Desperation, Swami Rama tried all the powerful Mantras but nothing worked. Each passing moment Death was coming closer.
After trying every thing Swami Rama thought “I have tried every thing except my Guru, Let him also give a Chance”. Swami Rama prayed to his Guru for help.
Instantly help came in the form of Village woman’s who were passing above that Cliff. These women’s noticed Swami Rama hanging between life and death and they helped Swami Rama back to safety.
“YOU WILL OBEY!!!!” screamed the man in black to the quivering figure on the floor.
“No-” whimpered the boy.
“OBEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!” yelled the man furiously. “KILLLLLLLLL!”
“Master please…” I plead for my life, I have his hands around my neck. I am so scared and I don’t know how to react he was going to break my neck! I decide this is my fate…
someone who can be like super duper mean cause they always like to be in control and in charge. they never like hearing other peoples ideas which is not cool because then other people dont have a chance to be creative and express there ideas. Also a master could be someone who you have to obey without question because they are in charge
She put the glass down on the table, and she knew that she’d leave a watermark but didn’t care- absently tracing the rim of the fragile cup with her finger, ringing too highly for her ears. No one in the class had mastered the trick of speaking in turn yet, but none of them could even care. She felt her shoulders rise, heaving above her neck, as she collapsed.
haha you mastered it. It’s over and you’ve done it! Do you sense my sarcasm? Cuz that sentence was laying it down pretty thick. Attempt number…91 was it? I’m not tryirying to bring you down, but anyone can do..
I am amazed all the time by how artists can be such masters of their mediums… can this be done with either hard work or talent alone? Is being a master of something just a matter of putting your mind to it?
Master once told me: “Purity is the light before the sunset.”
That was before he jumped off the great wall at sunrise.
Why sunrise? Well, I asked his ghost when it came back to haunt me.
“Antithesis.” He told me.
The slave doesn’t know that he can be the master. You control yourself; realize this, or else you put that control in unknowing, or worse yet, manipulative hands. Don’t enslave yourselves, be free. It’s your CHOICE.
Master, do not tempt me. You haunt my conscience so. You make me trip over my robes each time I pass your study. You do not lift a finger. You keep on bleeding ink.
I wonder if you see me, creeping past your study. The hallways are all iron, red rusted and mocking me. I do not try to see you. I do not try to please you.
A master of his trade, the coin instantly vanished with a simple flourish of his slender fingers.
“How do you do that?” I asked, more intrigued than I probably should have been.
The smile received was mysterious and, as I later learned, intentionally misleading. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”
You think you’re the master of me? Look in my eyes, tell me that you rule over me. That’s right, you shrink back in fear. You can’t say it, you wouldn’t dare. You know I could destroy you in a matter of minutes. I am the master, you will never be. So stay out of my way, or pay the consequences, severe as they may be.
There’s no good in your eyes anymore, and it makes me want to drive home, drunk and alone, curse the faces that I rarely see and wanting to just drown myself in the gold because you can’t let it go. It’s that need like nothing else. I bullshit with the best and wait for what’s perfect, and whine and moan more than most about where I think my life will take me but I know that’s no sort of pretending. I guess it’s the things that I don’t say that make me feel like I’m just pretending. Nothing is worse than doing nothing, I know, but who’s hiding it? You can’t stay angry forever, or so I’m told. But the house gets so quiet, sitting here wishing for just an hour or two alone with you. It’s always too personal. They all mention how tired I look and I realize I haven’t said a word in hours. I guess it’s the things that I don’t say.
he is powerful, beads of sweat drip from his forehead, wrinkled in determination. he lets out a small sigh, and continues to breathe heavily. he closes his eyes; concentrating, focusing.
master of my thoughts, master of my body. master of all that surrounds me. and yet unaware of every single movement i’ve ever made, let alone the time’s master’s name has graced my lips.
To master a skill means you devote a majority of your time doing that one thing. But before you master a skill, before you devote your life to just one thing, you have to think about what you’re doing. What are you missing out on? You may never know. Is it worth it to miss out on everything else for that one thing?
“Master.” She entered the room and knelt by the door, a newly polished, silverblade knife in her hands. It would seem out of place anywhere else, but atop her slender, elegant fingers.
The blacksmith turned with a half smile, one bright eye showing his approval, the eyepatch twitching as his face did. “You’ve done me proud, Ariel.” He rumbled. “You may keep the knife. You crafted it in fire and ice in a thankless time. The blade will always answer to you.”
Her head bowed, scarlet curls dancing around her cheeks, a hint of a blush present. It was the first genuine compliment he had ever gifted her in the five years since her apprenticeship. “Thank you kindly, Master.” She murmured.
“Get to work.” He grunted, turning back to the anvil.
She bowed in answer and rose to her feet. The precious knife was sheathed in the holder strapped to her left thigh, hidden by the long tunic. She’d known this knife was hers since she’d hammered it out in the morning chill so many weeks ago.
she looked up into his face. he was grim and sweaty, with a flat face and red hands. she wasn’t particularly impressed with him, but she needed something that only he could give her. with him she had security, protection, money, and… a warmth of feeling that was almost indescribable though not particularly deep.
The master of the house was quite displeased when he saw that his maid was not doing her job. “Out peasant!” He yelled at her. She ran away crying, she was fired.
the master and servant walked outside of the mansion together. they were equal in so many ways, but were not to be treated as such. and certainly not to treat each other as such. no, she was to serve him in any way that he needed or wanted. she looked down.
There was so much that I put into her. She was my master. What was the oddest about this was that she loved me back. There was so much we shared. I could stare into her eyes and make us equal, even for just a moment. There was something about the electricity that coursed my head that overloaded and blacked out. And it could never be. She acted like my friend. She acted like a sister. She acted like a mother. She acted like my master. She was like a goddess.
I was done bothering other people–those people being my friends. I was the master of my own prophecy, but my thoughts weren’t that intelligent as I left my predictable and boring group and jumped along with the other soloists. They knew what they wanted, and they didn’t allow others to get in the way. As independent beings, the beat moved through us all, and the smile on my face wouldn’t vanish for anything.
I was the master of my domain. I was in charge of all the lands that lay out before me. I strode to the top of the hill to get a better look. The birds soared around the hill as if paying homage to their new king. I took a deep breath and nearly choked.
“Frank!” A voice yelled up at me.
“Hey Frank, get the hell off of there! We need to doze it.”
I grabbed my hard hat and surfed down the rubbish heap on a cardboard box.
this is what i want. what i feel i need. i want a Master who will allow me to explore my sexuality, and in doing so explore myself. i feel like He would complete me, make me a better me. i want to be dominated.
Emma is the master of all that there is. She is the master of comebacks. She gets made fun of and she doesn’t care. She just says something stupid like “ok” and boom. She’s the master of comebacks.
a master of all crafts is a fool to all experience.
to think that a person can master anything is to think that any such thing can be conquered, only a silly mortal would ever imagine that status.
The work necessary to master the art of calligraphy has nothing to do with what you write. It is more about clearing your mind of all thoughts other than the movement of the brush, the flow of the ink, and the relationship between your hand and the page.
once a lover, always a lover
he always used to say
but soon I came to wonder
if he meant it in that way
he is my lovely master
and he showed me all his gems
but he can’t hear the flowers crying
when he cuts their stems
I loved him like a sinner
and I told myself I knew
exactly how to handle him
exactly what to do
but still I ran away that night
I had little else to say
there were bruises on my fingertips
and my flowers, cut away
I am the master of my will and I control what I do , how i do it, who I talk to etc. No one masters me, its not in my nature to dominate others or be dominated. Its important that all people get to have their say in the affairs of their lives.
wami Rama was one of the foremost Yogis in this century to go to west and Spread the roots of Spirituality.
When Swami Rama was small child, the Astrologers prepared his Horoscope and told his parents that he will die at the age of 28. Hearing this bad news, Swami Rama, then a child, started crying.
Suddenly from no where, A Saint came to his house and said “Son, you don’t worry, I will take care of you and you are not going to die”. That Saint was none other than his own Guru.
After some years Swami Rama left home to join his Guru and forgot completely about the prediction of astrologers.
His Guru asked him to go to many Great Sages and through them Swami Rama became aware of many esoteric secrets and Powerful Mantras of many traditions.
Swami Rama used to love wandering in Himalayas. One day he was Climbing a Difficult Hill and suddenly he slipped and Lost Control.
Falling down the Mountain, he was stopped barely at the edge of a cliff when his belly was pierced by a wild shrub and now his Body was hanging from the Cliff.
Blood was coming out and Swami Rama’s life was in danger. In Desperation, Swami Rama tried all the powerful Mantras but nothing worked. Each passing moment Death was coming closer.
After trying every thing Swami Rama thought “I have tried every thing except my Guru, Let him also give a Chance”. Swami Rama prayed to his Guru for help.
Instantly help came in the form of Village woman’s who were passing above that Cliff. These women’s noticed Swami Rama hanging between life and death and they helped Swami Rama back to safety.
“Are you gonna finish that? Can I have it? Please, oh, Please, oh, Please! I’ll be a good dog. You won’t regret it!”
“Barney, quit begging! Get down, now!”
“Please, oh, Please, oh, Please! Lemme eat that! It looks so yummy. I love bones!”
“Barney, knock it off! You’re sleeping outside tonight if you don’t settle down right now.”
“Pant, pant, pant, pant, hassle, hassle, pant, pant!”
“YOU WILL OBEY!!!!” screamed the man in black to the quivering figure on the floor.
“No-” whimpered the boy.
“OBEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!” yelled the man furiously. “KILLLLLLLLL!”
“Master please…” I plead for my life, I have his hands around my neck. I am so scared and I don’t know how to react he was going to break my neck! I decide this is my fate…
someone who can be like super duper mean cause they always like to be in control and in charge. they never like hearing other peoples ideas which is not cool because then other people dont have a chance to be creative and express there ideas. Also a master could be someone who you have to obey without question because they are in charge
She put the glass down on the table, and she knew that she’d leave a watermark but didn’t care- absently tracing the rim of the fragile cup with her finger, ringing too highly for her ears. No one in the class had mastered the trick of speaking in turn yet, but none of them could even care. She felt her shoulders rise, heaving above her neck, as she collapsed.
haha you mastered it. It’s over and you’ve done it! Do you sense my sarcasm? Cuz that sentence was laying it down pretty thick. Attempt number…91 was it? I’m not tryirying to bring you down, but anyone can do..
I am amazed all the time by how artists can be such masters of their mediums… can this be done with either hard work or talent alone? Is being a master of something just a matter of putting your mind to it?
Master once told me: “Purity is the light before the sunset.”
That was before he jumped off the great wall at sunrise.
Why sunrise? Well, I asked his ghost when it came back to haunt me.
“Antithesis.” He told me.
i can’t do this. i have made a huge mistake and i need my £6000 back.
The slave doesn’t know that he can be the master. You control yourself; realize this, or else you put that control in unknowing, or worse yet, manipulative hands. Don’t enslave yourselves, be free. It’s your CHOICE.
Master, do not tempt me. You haunt my conscience so. You make me trip over my robes each time I pass your study. You do not lift a finger. You keep on bleeding ink.
I wonder if you see me, creeping past your study. The hallways are all iron, red rusted and mocking me. I do not try to see you. I do not try to please you.
master’s degree of the master of the rings. stapîn.
A master of his trade, the coin instantly vanished with a simple flourish of his slender fingers.
“How do you do that?” I asked, more intrigued than I probably should have been.
The smile received was mysterious and, as I later learned, intentionally misleading. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”
You think you’re the master of me? Look in my eyes, tell me that you rule over me. That’s right, you shrink back in fear. You can’t say it, you wouldn’t dare. You know I could destroy you in a matter of minutes. I am the master, you will never be. So stay out of my way, or pay the consequences, severe as they may be.
There’s no good in your eyes anymore, and it makes me want to drive home, drunk and alone, curse the faces that I rarely see and wanting to just drown myself in the gold because you can’t let it go. It’s that need like nothing else. I bullshit with the best and wait for what’s perfect, and whine and moan more than most about where I think my life will take me but I know that’s no sort of pretending. I guess it’s the things that I don’t say that make me feel like I’m just pretending. Nothing is worse than doing nothing, I know, but who’s hiding it? You can’t stay angry forever, or so I’m told. But the house gets so quiet, sitting here wishing for just an hour or two alone with you. It’s always too personal. They all mention how tired I look and I realize I haven’t said a word in hours. I guess it’s the things that I don’t say.
he is powerful, beads of sweat drip from his forehead, wrinkled in determination. he lets out a small sigh, and continues to breathe heavily. he closes his eyes; concentrating, focusing.
Self first. Family and Friends. The world that is before you and the time thats in it. But most important self forgiveness.
master of my thoughts, master of my body. master of all that surrounds me. and yet unaware of every single movement i’ve ever made, let alone the time’s master’s name has graced my lips.
Self first. Family and Friends. The world that is before you and most important self forgiveness.
something that rules over a slave and stuff. usually back in the old days of Egyptian life.
To master a skill means you devote a majority of your time doing that one thing. But before you master a skill, before you devote your life to just one thing, you have to think about what you’re doing. What are you missing out on? You may never know. Is it worth it to miss out on everything else for that one thing?
Why am I so damned unhappy all of the time?
“Master.” She entered the room and knelt by the door, a newly polished, silverblade knife in her hands. It would seem out of place anywhere else, but atop her slender, elegant fingers.
The blacksmith turned with a half smile, one bright eye showing his approval, the eyepatch twitching as his face did. “You’ve done me proud, Ariel.” He rumbled. “You may keep the knife. You crafted it in fire and ice in a thankless time. The blade will always answer to you.”
Her head bowed, scarlet curls dancing around her cheeks, a hint of a blush present. It was the first genuine compliment he had ever gifted her in the five years since her apprenticeship. “Thank you kindly, Master.” She murmured.
“Get to work.” He grunted, turning back to the anvil.
She bowed in answer and rose to her feet. The precious knife was sheathed in the holder strapped to her left thigh, hidden by the long tunic. She’d known this knife was hers since she’d hammered it out in the morning chill so many weeks ago.
She’d known.
So had her master, apparently.
she looked up into his face. he was grim and sweaty, with a flat face and red hands. she wasn’t particularly impressed with him, but she needed something that only he could give her. with him she had security, protection, money, and… a warmth of feeling that was almost indescribable though not particularly deep.
Commander powerful ass god rebellion stairs powerful hierarchy strong loyal leader pulse strength wise yet naive asset important player
The master of the house was quite displeased when he saw that his maid was not doing her job. “Out peasant!” He yelled at her. She ran away crying, she was fired.
the master and servant walked outside of the mansion together. they were equal in so many ways, but were not to be treated as such. and certainly not to treat each other as such. no, she was to serve him in any way that he needed or wanted. she looked down.
There was so much that I put into her. She was my master. What was the oddest about this was that she loved me back. There was so much we shared. I could stare into her eyes and make us equal, even for just a moment. There was something about the electricity that coursed my head that overloaded and blacked out. And it could never be. She acted like my friend. She acted like a sister. She acted like a mother. She acted like my master. She was like a goddess.
power. key. better. higher class. makes you better than someone else. looked up too by others.
I was done bothering other people–those people being my friends. I was the master of my own prophecy, but my thoughts weren’t that intelligent as I left my predictable and boring group and jumped along with the other soloists. They knew what they wanted, and they didn’t allow others to get in the way. As independent beings, the beat moved through us all, and the smile on my face wouldn’t vanish for anything.
I was the master of my domain. I was in charge of all the lands that lay out before me. I strode to the top of the hill to get a better look. The birds soared around the hill as if paying homage to their new king. I took a deep breath and nearly choked.
“Frank!” A voice yelled up at me.
“Hey Frank, get the hell off of there! We need to doze it.”
I grabbed my hard hat and surfed down the rubbish heap on a cardboard box.
this is what i want. what i feel i need. i want a Master who will allow me to explore my sexuality, and in doing so explore myself. i feel like He would complete me, make me a better me. i want to be dominated.
do as I say, not as I do. You are not above me but beneath me. Ant. You small minimal excuse for existence. Follow. Submit. OBEY ME.
Emma is the master of all that there is. She is the master of comebacks. She gets made fun of and she doesn’t care. She just says something stupid like “ok” and boom. She’s the master of comebacks.
karate
god
teacher
phd
university
graduate
professional
expert
diploma
certificate
degree
teacher
professor
the best contest proud japan china
a master of all crafts is a fool to all experience.
to think that a person can master anything is to think that any such thing can be conquered, only a silly mortal would ever imagine that status.
The work necessary to master the art of calligraphy has nothing to do with what you write. It is more about clearing your mind of all thoughts other than the movement of the brush, the flow of the ink, and the relationship between your hand and the page.