From: CONVERSATIONS WITH GOD

The greatest secret of all about God:

  "I will appear to you as you see Me"

From: CONVERSATIONS WITH GOD

If you knew Who You Are - that you are the most magnificent, the most remarkable, the most splendid being God has ever created - you would never fear. For who could reject such wondrous magnificence? Not even God could find fault in such a being. But you do not know Who You Are, and you think you are a great deal less.  

From: Conversations with God

All people are special, and all moments are golden. There is no person and there is no time one more special than another.

From: Life on the Other Side by Sylvia Browne

Several psychiatrist, psychologist, and physician friends were doing their own research into reincarnation at the time, and we consulted with each other regularly. Finally several of us gathered one weekend for a panel discussion on the subject, in an auditorium.
Before we started, we discussed the possibility of doing a spontaneous past-life regression onstage, on a volunteer from the audience. My colleagues were hesitant about it. My attitude was, as always: if it works, it works. If it doesn't, it doesn't. But we'll never know until we try.
A handful of people volunteered, and I chose an attractive, well-dressed young man who looked as if he wasn't quite buying this reincarnation blather, but he was patient enough to keep listening on the off chance that we were right.
Before I began the hypnosis process, I asked him if he had any physical or emotional health problems or any phobias that were bothering him. He mentioned a chronically painful right foot, which podiatrists couldn't seem to cure. As for phobias, he confessed a fear that no matter how successful he became or how hard he tried to be liked, people would always see through him, figure out how  inadequate he really was, and laugh at him behind his back.
He was a good subject, willing but not too eager, and easy to hypnotize. I took him slowly through the regression to show the audience how it worked, to keep him comfortable, and to prove that I wasn't leading him and that all the information came from him, not from me. We worked patiently back through this lifetime, to his birth, to the moment of his conception, to his death in a life before this one.
And then we all watched as, with no cue from me, his right foot turned in, as if it were deformed, and his whole demeanor changed from a veneer of self-confidence to a shy, sad, apologetic shadow.
I asked him what today's date was. He gave me a date in 1821, which was 154 years ago.
He introduced himself with a name different from the one he'd given when he arrived onstage, and as far as he was concerned we were in a small town in Virginia instead of a city in northern California. His brief life was an embarrassing burden to his parents and a lonely object of ridicule among his classmates.
My subject on that particular afternoon reported several months later that he'd never suffered another  moment of discomfort in his foot, and never again had he worried about others laughing at him.
Reincarnation is God's logical, loving, compassionate design for the eternal journey of our spirits.
I didn't just want to believe it, I had too much evidence not to believe it. 

From: Life on the Other Side - By Sylvia Browne

I was doing weight-loss hypnotherapy on a new client when he suddenly seemed to lose his mind. First he talked, in the present tense, about his life in Egypt as a builder of pyramids. He included some fascinating details about antigravitational devices that were so fantastic I couldn't follow them. Next he launched into a lengthy monologue in what sounded like an endless series of nonsense syllables. I thought he was having a psychotic episode and knew it could be dangerous to him for me to interrupt him, so I listened and tried to appear calm while silently begging him not to become violent. But then, just as suddenly as he flipped out, he snapped right back to his normal, soft-spoken, pleasant self again, as if the previous half hour had never happened.
With his permission, I sent a tape of that session to a professor friend of mine at Stanford and asked for his objective evaluation. If this client needed psychiatric help, I was prepared to drive the poor man there myself. 
Three days after I delivered the tape to Stanford, my phone rang, and a voice on the other end said, "Where did you get this tape?" I had never heard my professor friend sound so excited.
I responded with a noncommittal, "Why do you ask?"
It seems that in those three days, he had studied and researched that tape and shared it with colleagues who researched it as well, and they came to a conclusion that astounded us all: my client's supposed "nonsense syllables" were really an obscure seventh-century-B.C. Assyrian dialect in which any number of pyramid builders would have been fluent.