Best 900 quotes in «return quotes» category

I believe that each person has a favorite place, a tree, a mountain, or a beach which they want to come back to, even if the return can only take place in the boundaries of their imagination.

I believe in love. I believe in the love Lucy shows me, the kind I'll try hard to give back to her in full. I believe in things I can't put into words, but things I know to be true. I believe in us. I believe in this. Amen.

I could have not returned, and I've returned.

If today is not your day, then be happy for this day shall never return. And if today is your day, then be happy now for this day shall never return.

If we return unto God, He will not reject us.

In 1988, a cave explorer named Véronique Le Guen volunteered for an extreme experiment: to live alone in an underground cavern in southern France without a clock for one hundred and eleven days, monitored by scientists who wished to study the human body's natural rhythms in the absence of time cues. For a while, she settled into a pattern of thirty hours awake and twenty hours asleep. She described herself as being "psychologically completely out of phase, where I no longer know what my values are or what is my purpose in life." When she returned to society, her husband later noted, she seemed to have an emptiness inside her that she was unable to fully express. "While I was alone in my cave I was my own judge," she said. "You are your own most severe judge. You must never lie or all is lost. The strongest sentiment I brought out of the cave is that in my life I will never tolerate lying." A little more than a year later, Le Guen swallowed an overdose of barbiturates and lay down in her car in Paris, a suicide at age thirty-three.

It is no coincidence that Christian fundamentalist movements worldwide seek a return to Old Testament laws - because they fundamentally reject Christ as the New Covenant - which replaced all that. They are not Christians - they are Leviticans.

It is to the prodigals...that the memory of their Father's house comes back. If the son had lived economically he would never have thought of returning.

It would be autumn, and our fathers would be out threshing in the fields. We would walk through the mulberry groves, past the big loquat tree and the old lotus pond, where we used to catch tadpoles in the spring. Our dogs would come running up to us. Our neighbours would wave. Our mothers would be sitting by the well with their sleeves tied up, washing the evening's rice. And when they saw us they would just stand up and stare. "Little girl," they would say to us, "where in the world have you been?

Los milicianos corrieron por las calles mientras los ciudadanos se escondían, desesperados, entre casas viejas, en los pozos, en las despensas de sus vecinos. Cerraban las puertas los padres de familia y asían con fuerza sus mejores cuchillos. Las mujeres abrazaban a sus hijos, las sirvientas aseguraban las ventanas. Algunos, los más temerosos, se acurrucaban en el camastro con la débil seguridad de las velas encendidas. Esa noche, los lobos tomaron Barcelona, y en ese ferviente caos de guerra y muerte, Fortuna desenvainó su espada. Había entendido el mensaje. «Gryal está aquí», decían los lobos. «Ha vuelto la primavera», decía su aullido.

Maximum return was the maxim to which we returned.

May the light be in you forever, May the sun love you and keep you, May the dream make you awaken. For the stars love to shine upon you, And the heavens cry for your loss. May goodness and love flow through you once more, Drink of the light and the love here, Find that we all need you, May your spirit come back across.

Missing you, I missed a part of me I shared with you that’s now gone. Missing you, when really, it was the way you made me feel and the things you made us do. Missing you I shouldn’t be. But I can’t help missing who I was with you. Missing you, I missed and missed so much of the world and wasn’t even missed in return.

Most politicians are corrupt as they do not represent the masses that voted for them, but rather they choose to return numerous favors to the corporations that funded their election campaigns.

My love, I'm here. I'll wait my whole life through until you're done, there in the cove at Kamouraska. Until you wash your blood-soaked hands and make your way back to me

On the land an oak will grow On a bough an owl may stand From lasting cloud a rain will fall Upon the earth to water seed. Each to each returns its need To act upon the other's call No locking ring may stay the hand Nor halt the seasons as they flow. - Little Song

Return as ever. Your eyes are my only conveyance to death's other face.

I wanted to see my family, but didn't want to leave the other guys. The people waiting for us were strangers, even though I knew every last one of them.

She told us about the goddess called Persephone, who was forced to spend half a year in the darkness deep underground. Winter happened when she was trapped inside the earth. The days shrank, they became cold and short and dark. Living things hid themselves away. Spring came when she was released and made her slow way up to the world again. The world became brighter and bolder in order to welcome her back. It began to be filled with warmth and light. The animals dared to wake, they dared to have their young. Plants dared to send out buds and shoots. Life dared to come back.

So I am not a broken heart. I am not the weight I lost or miles or ran and I am not the way I slept on my doorstep under the bare sky in smell of tears and whiskey because my apartment was empty and if I were to be this empty I wanted something solid to sleep on. Like concrete. I am not this year and I am not your fault. I am muscles building cells, a little every day, because they broke that day, but bones are stronger once they heal and I am smiling to the bus driver and replacing my groceries once a week and I am not sitting for hours in the shower anymore. I am the way a life unfolds and bloom and seasons come and go and I am the way the spring always finds a way to turn even the coldest winter into a field of green and flowers and new life. I am not your fault.

...I've returned and I look around me and think, I've missed my life. While I was off and alone, it went on here, without me, and I'm forever doomed to be a stranger in my own home.

Sometimes to return is a vulgarity.

The grace of a curve is an invitation to remain. We cannot break away from it without hoping to return. -Gaston Bachelard

The land is always there...it is you who has to return

The knowledge that he had left me with no intent ever to return had come over me in tiny droplets of realization spread over the years. And each droplet of comprehension brought its own small measure of hurt...He had wished me well in finding my own fate to follow, and I never doubted his sincerity. But it had taken me years to accept that his absence in my life was a deliberate finality, an act he had chosen, a thing completed even as some part of my soul still dangled, waiting for his return.

The only way to help someone is when you know they cannot return you back. Anything else is just business.

Solitude is good for a time, but not for all time. Don’t forget to come back and embrace a community. Build one, if you must. Don’t neglect the sharing of yourself. Even those parts that are not so clean have value. In fact, the best lessons you have to offer in life come from your struggles in the darkness and grit of life.

The now reality is our only home, where everything already is. There is no other home we came from, and we might think we shall return to.

The things we love are secretly loving us in return.

Thing were falling apart. We just could not slow down. We were evolving into something greater, perhaps too much for our own good. And one thing always remained as I moved on. I saved a little bit of love just in case you would ever return home.

We're all astronauts, really, aren't we; interstellar astronauts, travelling so far into the blackness we can never return.

Think the tree that bears nutrition: though the fruits are picked, the plant maintains fruition. So give all the love you have. Do not hold any in reserve. What is given is not lost; it shall return.

Those who die young, they are cheated,” she said. “Not cheated out of life, because life is a penance, but the young, they’re cheated because they don’t know it’s coming. They don’t have time to move closer, to return home. When you know you’re going to die, you try to be near the bones of your own people. You don’t even think you have bones when you’re young, even when you break them, you don’t believe you have them. But when you’re old, they start reminding you they’re there. They start turning to dust on you, even as you’re walking here and there, going from place to place. And this is when you crave to be near the bones of your own people. My children never felt this. They had to look death in the face, even before they knew what it was. Just like you did, no?

True respect comes when we fend for ourselves without the aid of anyone, and when we owned something and say, 'this is my own'! Not necessarily as a way of boasting of our abundance and grace, but having a feeling that we can use it without obstruction, or being asked to return the favor.

We guarantee rude emptiness for ourselves; later in life, when we treat children as - "empty buckets", today.

We wander in our thousands over the face of the earth, the illustrious and the obscure, earning beyond the seas our fame, our money, or only a crust of bread; but it seems to me that for each of us going home must be like going to render an account.

We wander in our thousands over the face of the earth, the illustrious and the obscure, earning beyond the seas our fame, our money, or only a crust of bread; but it seems to me that for each of us going home must be like going to render an account. We return to face our superiors, our kindred, our friends--those whom we obey, and those whom we love; but even they who have neither, the most free, lonely, irresponsible and bereft of ties,--even those for whom home holds no dear face, no familiar voice,--even they have to meet the spirit that dwells within the land, under its sky, in its air, in its valleys, and on its rises, in its fields, in its waters and its trees--a mute friend, judge, and inspirer.

You are the traveler, taking this journey. You are the hero, writing this story. When the trickster Pau-Henoa wandered under the earth, what did he find?” “The sun,” “Right,” said Chessey firmly. “Even the pagans knew: you will wander the dark places under the earth, but you will come back with the sun.

Yea, I shall return with the tide.

You cannot disown what is yours. Flung out, there is always the return, the reckoning, the revenge, perhaps the reconciliation. There is always the return. And the wound will take you there.

You can always return to seek God.

You never quite know when you may hope to repair the damage done by going away.

You have brought me back to myself.

You never depart from us, but yet, only with difficulties do we return to You.

You want to take all my money slow with success, so far you have taken 120$ and they aren't return back and you want more and more and more...

Your father is waiting, so fly up that mountain and through the alomb. Find Nardukha and tell him I have upheld my end of the bargain. Now it is his turn.” He stares at me, a dangerous light in his eye, and then his gaze travels beyond me, in the direction of the funeral. My hand moves to his muscled forearm, and I squeeze it hard. “ No. ” He sneers, his hand moving quickly to catch mine. He yanks me close, his head bending to look down at me. “Zahra,” he murmurs, his voice like falling rocks. “Why do you care for these humans? For thousands of years they have enslaved you, forced you to bend and bow to their silly whims. They have mistreated you, abused you, and yet you defend them still?” He drops his morning star to cradle my head in his other hand, and he licks his lips. His fangs flash. “Come with me to Ambadya. Be my bride, as you were always meant to be.” Revulsion choking my throat, I pull away, slapping him hard across the jaw, but he barely registers the blow. “I’m not anything to you, Zhian. I never will be. You should have abandoned that notion long ago.” “I did not bargain for your life so that you could play servant to these mortals! My father would have killed you thousands of years ago, like all the other Shaitan, if I hadn’t intervened!” “I never asked you to.” He roars, and I clap my hands over my ears at the terrible sound. Somewhere behind me, a horn blasts twice. “They heard you, you fool!” I snap. “The Eristrati are coming, and their charmers will bottle you up again! Go, go !” He snarls, his hand grabbing for me, but I shift into a tiger and snarl back at him, my hackles on end. Get out of here, Zhian! Go find Nardukha and tell him I have set you free! Now he must free me. The horn blasts again. At last Zhian comes to his senses, and he pulls back, scowling. I’ll be back for you, he promises. And you and I will be joined at last, the jinn prince and his princess, unstoppable and undisputed!

Abandon benevolence, discard duty, and people will return to the family ties.

A bore is someone who takes away my solitude and doesn't give me companionship in return.

After all my possessions had been burned, God gave me the wisdom to return to Jerusalem.

A fly is a very light burden; but if it were perpetually to return and settle on one's nose, it might weary us of our very lives.