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| Link | Quote | Stars | Tags | Author |
| 2a60c65 | But all doors used regularly are doors to the afterlife. | Margaret Atwood | ||
| 3d6a117 | As his editor put it, "Yeah, it's a piece of shit, but it's good shit." | Margaret Atwood | ||
| 522ae92 | Young love, thinks Felix wistfully. So good for the complexion. | Margaret Atwood | ||
| 771a429 | Human society, they claimed, was a sort of monster, its main by-products being corpses and rubble. It never learned, it made the same cretinous mistakes over and over, trading short-term gain for long-term pain. It was like a giant slug eating its way relentlessly through all the other bioforms on the planet, grinding up life on earth and shitting it out the backside in the form of pieces of manufactured and soon-to-be-obsolete plastic junk.. | Margaret Atwood | ||
| 3ff2eef | Fool, he tells himself. She's not here. She was never here. It was imagination and wishful thinking, nothing but that. Resign yourself. He can't resign himself. | Margaret Atwood | ||
| eb862db | But we own nothing they want, so we don't qualify as terrorists. | Margaret Atwood | ||
| 8711425 | I don't give a glance to what's still on the walls, I hate those neo-expressionist dirty greens and putrid oranges, post this, post that. Everything is post these days, as if we're all just a footnote to something earlier that was real enough to have a name of its own. | Margaret Atwood | ||
| 07eae7e | By the time she was sixteen, Jane had heard enough about this to last her several lifetimes. In her mother's account of the way things were, you were young briefly and then you fell. You plummeted downwards like an overripe apple and hit the ground with a squash; you fell, and everything about you fell too. You got fallen arches and a fallen womb, and your hair and teeth fell out. That's what having a baby did to you. It subjected you to th.. | Margaret Atwood | ||
| 701a02e | Virginia Woolf said that writing a novel is like walking through a dark room, holding a lantern which lights up what is already in the room anyway. | Margaret Atwood | ||
| 7d61fca | The written word is so much like evidence -- like something that can be used against you later. | Margaret Atwood | ||
| e290aed | But what distressed him greatly was not having another hermit there to confess him and to receive consolation from; and so he solaced himself with pacing up and down the little meadow, and writing and carving on the bark of trees and on the fine sand a multitude of verses all in harmony with his sadness | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| 46126df | he who has the good to his hand and chooses the bad, that the good he complains of may not come to him. | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| 50770d3 | Open thine arms and receive, too, thy son Don Quixote, who, if he comes vanquished by the arm of another, comes victor over himself, which, as he himself has told me, is the greatest victory anyone can desire. | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| 061fb7e | this was the first time that he thoroughly felt and believed himself to be a knight-errant in reality and not merely in fancy, now that he saw himself treated in the same way as he had read of such knights being treated in days of yore. | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| 0cb0301 | I swear to hold my tongue about it till the end of your worship's days, and God grant I may be able to let it out tomorrow | humour | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | |
| d30eb8a | let his sin be his punishment, let him eat it with his bread, and let that be an end to it. | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| ec16339 | In the shadow of feigned cripples and false wounds come the strong arms of thieves and very healthy drunkards. | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| d9d4bc7 | He tried his luck again, and things went so smoothly that with no more noise or disturbance than the last time, he found himself rid of the burden that had caused him so much grief. But since Don Quixote had a sense of smell as acute as his hearing, and Sancho was joined so closely to him, and the vapors rose up almost in a straight line, some unavoidably reached his nostrils, and as soon as they did he came to the assistance of his nostril.. | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| 4d41572 | When a rich man is hurt, his wail goeth heavens high. (Sancho Panza) | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| 6244eeb | also saw that the number of simpleminded men is greater than that of the prudent, and though it is better to be praised by a few wise men and mocked by many fools, | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| 774a4a0 | In any case, Cide Hamete Benengeli was a very careful historian, and very accurate in all things, as can be clearly seen in the details he relates to us, for although they are trivial and inconsequential, he does not attempt to pass over them in silence; his example could be followed by solemn historians who recount actions so briefly and succinctly that we can barely taste them, and leave behind in the inkwell, through carelessness, malice.. | writing | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | |
| 883bd9e | for it is the business and duty of historians to be exact, truthful, and wholly free from passion, and neither interest nor fear, hatred nor love, should make them swerve from the path of truth, whose mother is history, rival of time, storehouse of deeds, witness for the past, example and counsel for the present, and warning for the future. | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| 7a0266c | And what hast thou gained by the government?" asked Ricote. "I have gained," said Sancho, "the knowledge that I am no good for governing," | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| fb35933 | he'd just fallen off a rock and got a little bit spifflicated in the ribs. | Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra | ||
| bfa4a31 | A fear of the unknown: what was that called? Worse yet: a fear of the known. | literature | Joyce Carol Oates | |
| efb5718 | My fist flew forward. "Nicely done!" said Eldric, although it had glanced off of his palm like a pebble. "Why aren't you begging for mercy?" "I make a point never to do so," said Eldric. It puts one at a disadvantage." -- | Franny Billingsley | ||
| 1efcad3 | Remember: You're the girl with nothing below the surface. Scratch it and what do you find? More surface. | Franny Billingsley | ||
| 42bfa66 | How many bones did he set?" I cared about it much less than they did. It's my Florence Nightingale calm, I suppose. There was a pause. "Twenty-seven," said Father. There was a question mark in that pause. "How many bones are in the hand?" Another pause. "Twenty-seven," said Eldric." | Franny Billingsley | ||
| 6922e4e | She loved him for his own sake, and therefore she would rather have suffered his absence if he flourished than to have enjoyed his presence if he languished; her sorrow over his avoidable languishing would overshadow her delight in his presence. For a lover, it is more blessed to give than to receive, even when giving pierces the lover's heart. | Miroslav Volf | ||
| dd95f42 | Here is what we do as worshipers of a Santa Claus God: We embrace the conviction that God is an infinitely generous source of all good, but conveniently forget that we were created in God's image to be in some significant sense like God - not like God in God's divinity, for we are human and not divine, but like God "in true righteous ness and holiness" (Ephesians 4:24), like God in loving enemies (Matthew 5:44). To live well as a human bein.. | Miroslav Volf | ||
| 9177faa | In his early text, somewhat cumbersomely titled 'Towards a Critique of Hegel's PHILOSOPHY OF RIGHT,' the young Karl Marx famously noted that religion - the Christian faith, he meant primarily - is 'the opiate of the people.' It's a drug, and it's a 'downer' or 'depressant' insulating people from the pain of oppressive social realities and consoling them with a dream world of heavenly bliss. Alternatively, religion can function as an 'upper,.. | religion opiate-of-the-people | Miroslav Volf | |
| 9984194 | Two false images of God are particularly irresistible to many of us - mostly unconsciously. The first I'll designate as God the negotiator and the other, God the Santa Claus. Though we have fashioned both to serve our interests, they are each other's opposites. With one, we want to make advantageous deals. From the other, we want to get warm smiles and bagfuls of goodies. We run from one to the other. Some of their features are reminiscent .. | Miroslav Volf | ||
| 7128c8b | The sufferings of Christ on the cross are not just his sufferings; they are "the sufferings of the poor and weak, which Jesus shares in his own body and in his own soul, in solidarity with them" (Moltmann 1992, 130). And since God was in Christ, "through his passion Christ brings into the passion history of this world the eternal fellowship of God and divine justice and righteousness that creates life" (131). On the cross, Christ both "iden.. | Miroslav Volf | ||
| ce4ffe5 | Love is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope and to endure whatever comes. | John O'Donohue | ||
| 7249762 | The longing at the heart of attraction is for union with the Beautiful. | John O'Donohue | ||
| a02d3ac | The earth is full of thresholds where beauty awaits the wonder of our gaze. | John O'Donohue | ||
| babddfa | Is it not possible that a place could have huge affection for those who dwell there? Perhaps your place loves having you there. It misses you when you are away and in its secret way rejoices when you return. Could it be possible that a landscape might have a deep friendship with you? That it could sense your presence and feel the care you extend towards it? Perhaps your favourite place feels proud of you. | John O'Donohue | ||
| 3fde5a0 | The hunger to belong is at the heart of our nature. Cut off from others, we atrophy and turn in on ourselves. The sense of belonging is the natural balance of our lives. Mostly, we do not need to make an issue of belonging. When we belong, we take it for granted. There is some innocent childlike side to the human heart that is always deeply hurt when we are excluded. Belonging suggests warmth, understanding, and embrace. No one was created .. | John O'Donohue | ||
| b61c281 | The beautiful can exist at the edge precisely because it has nothing to lose and everything to give away. FREDERICK TURNER OUR | John O'Donohue | ||
| b1c8df8 | The interplay between farmers and the elements was a poem without words, the echo which would always return to him. The air could hold the "breeze of the rain" or the "wind of warmth" to the discerning nose. The stone carved its memory deep into the hands that chiseled it. Fire was life in the hearth which was the center of home. Water introduced itself to us from its most natural source in streams and wells." | John O'Donohue | ||
| ac1f88d | In our mediocrity and distraction, we forget that we are privileged to live in a wondrous universe. | John O'Donohue | ||
| 34605e4 | Entering into and opening to our inherent spacious soul daily allows a natural liberation of our manifold self-identifications to occur, and it is then that we can truly rest in the sacredness and come to know our ground of being. The great Celtic writer John O'Donohue points to this when he says that "behind the facade of your life, there is something beautiful and eternal happening." | self-awareness divine-feminine divine-self ground-reality groundedness john-o-donohue sacred-teachings sacred-wisdom sacredness-of-life celtic-spirituality sacredness divine-inspiration feminine being-yourself rest self-realization soul | Meghan Don | |
| 6c0939e | THE INNER HISTORY OF A DAY No one knew the name of this day; Born quietly from deepest night, It hid its face in light, Demanded nothing for itself, Opened out to offer each of us A field of brightness that traveled ahead, Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps And the light of thought to show the way. The mind of the day draws no attention; It dwells within the silence with elegance | John O'Donohue | ||
| d293599 | To create a space for all our words, Drawing us to listen inward and outward. We seldom notice how each day is a holy place Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens, Transforming our broken fragments Into an eternal continuity that keeps us. Somewhere in us a dignity presides That is more gracious than the smallness That fuels us with fear and force, A dignity that trusts the form a day takes. So at the end of this day, we give thanks Fo.. | John O'Donohue |