Bear Fruits Quotes

“Nothing comes as an accomplishment instantly. Success does not come overnight. Patience is the key! Grow up and be the tree; but remember it takes dry and wet seasons to become a fruit bearer, achiever and impact maker!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“It's when the seed grows up that it is known as a tree. Nobody calls the "seedlings" as "trees" and no seedling is ever useful because it doesn't produce fruits! You got to grow up!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“Thoughts are roots; Words are leaves; Actions are fruits! Every success tree has all working normally!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“Dreams do not bear fruits unless the weather conditions are favourable. Your positive mentality makes your dreams germinate; your actions make them to bear fruits. Take positive actions. Be positively minded.”
― Israelmore Ayivor, Shaping the dream

“No matter how potent your talents are, they remain to be out of use until you take time to develop them to their optimum level. This calls for preparation. Through preparation, personal branding, consistent exposure and productive connections, you set up a condition for your dreams to flourish and bear fruits!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“God gave the seed, but he wants the fruits back. Pick the seeds up. Plant the best ones. He promised the rain. It will be a bumper harvest!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“Enroll your body, soul and spirit and engage your time to do what you know best. Dedicate yourself to the work at hand and you will be rewarded by the fruits you will bear!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“The fact that a seed is viable is not a proof that it’s going to bear good fruits. Some good seeds are destroyed by bad soils. So is leadership; everyone was born to lead, but not all become leaders!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, Leaders' Watchwords

“God is waiting for you to bear fruits”
― Sunday Adelaja

“Your womb can’t never bear fruit.”

Miss Ethel Fordham told her that. Without sorrow or alarm, she had passed along the news as though she’d examined a Burpee seedling overcome by marauding rabbits. Cee didn’t know then what to feel about that news, no more than what she felt about Dr. Beau. Anger wasn’t available to her—she had been so stupid, so eager to please. As usual she blamed being dumb on her lack of schooling, but that excuse fell apart the second she thought about the skilled women who had cared for her, healed her. Some of them had to have Bible verses read to them because they could not decipher print themselves, so they had sharpened the skills of the illiterate: perfect memory, photographic minds, keen senses of smell and hearing. And they knew how to repair what an educated bandit doctor had plundered. If not schooling, then what?

Branded early as an unlovable, barely tolerated “gutter
child” by Lenore, the only one whose opinion mattered to her parents, exactly like what Miss Ethel said, she had agreed with the label and believed herself worthless. Ida never said, “You my child. I dote on you. You wasn’t born in no gutter. You born into my arms. Come on over here and let me give you a hug.” If not her mother, somebody somewhere should have said those words and meant them.

Frank alone valued her. While his devotion shielded her, it did not strengthen her. Should it have? Why was that his job and not her own? Cee didn’t know any soft, silly women. Not Thelma, or Sarah, or Ida, and certainly not the women who had healed her. Even Mrs. K., who let the boys play nasty with her, did hair and slapped anybody who messed with her, in or outside her hairdressing kitchen.

So it was just herself. In this world with these people she wanted to be the person who would never again need rescue. Not from Lenore through the lies of the Rat, not from Dr. Beau through the courage of Sarah and her brother. Sun-smacked or not, she wanted to be the one who rescued her own self. Did she have a mind, or not? Wishing would not make it so, nor would blame, but thinking might. If she did not respect herself, why should anybody else?

Okay. She would never have children to care about and give her the status of motherhood.

Okay. She didn’t have and probably would never have a mate. Why should that matter? Love? Please. Protection? Yeah, sure. Golden eggs? Don’t make me laugh.

Okay. She was penniless. But not for long. She would have to invent a way to earn a living.

What else?”
― Toni Morrison, Home