Best 314 quotes in «confession quotes» category

People who talk about their dreams are actually trying to tell you things about themselves they’d never admit in normal conversation.

Protestants at one time were confident that their free form of confession was a vast improvement upon Catholic private confession to a priest because it is voluntary, demystified, and not routinized. But amid the acids of modernity it has volunteered itself right out of existence. Demystification has dwindled into desacralization. The escape from routinization has become a convenient cover for the demise of repentance. The postmodern pastor is trying to learn anew to listen to the deeper range of feelings of others, without forgetfulness of the Word of God.

She bit her lower lip, a habit the village gossip had once told her was unladylike and unattractive. Strange; all her life she'd striven to become a proper young woman, to make her family proud of her. These past few months, she'd spent doing the opposite. Trying to pass as a man, a soldier. Her worst fear had been that she'd be caught impersonating someone who didn't exist. She never imagined she'd tell anyone of her own free will. She swallowed. "So you... you should know it's true. I'm not... Ping." "If you're not Ping, then who are you?" Shang asked. "I'm..." Mulan sucked in her breath. Her voice shook, and she worried her heart might burst out of its armor. She set down her sword, rubbed the sweat off her palms onto her bare arm. Then she reached for her hair and undid the knot. The black sheet of hair tumbled down, brushing just against her shoulder blades. "My ancestors were right," she said, surprised by how calm her voice was. "My parents never had a son. There is no Ping." She raised her eyes to meet Shang's. "There is only- Mulan.

Remember what I used to tel you when you were a little girl? ‘A fool and her money soon part.’ Current-day translation? Stop pissing away your assets at Bloomingdale’s.

Repentance is shockingly beautiful when we see it not as "I sinned again, I need to repent," but as "I sinned against my God again, but He is calling me back so He can lavish me with His love and forgiveness.

Right words make all of us feel falsely important. Right action keeps all of us forever beginners.

...remember after every autumn, the flora senses the rapturous kiss of cheerful spring. (Book-Love Vs Destiny)

Repetition of a sin is no reason to abandon confession.

Some priests unfaithful to the "memory" of Jesus insist more on the festive aspect and the fraternal dimension of the Mass than on the bloody sacrifice of Christ on the Cross. The importance of interior dispositions and the necessity of reconciling ourselves with God by agreeing to let ourselves be purified by the sacrament of confession are no longer in fashion today.

Since 1849 I have studied incessantly, under all its aspects, a question which was already in my mind since 1832. I confess that my scheme is still a mere dream, and I do not shut my eyes to the fact that so long as I alone believe it to be possible, it is virtually impossible. ... The scheme in question is the cutting of a canal through the Isthmus of Suez. This has been thought of from the earliest historical times, and for that very reason is looked upon as impracticable. Geographical dictionaries inform us indeed that the project would have been executed long ago but for insurmountable obstacles. [On his inspiration for the Suez Canal.]

So are we actually cooking Radiasure?" Carols asks as he plops on his brother's bed. "Because if Mom and Dad catch us we'll never see the outside of the confession bootha gain." Bea rolls her eyes. "Nothing new for you.

She rubs my back and sighs. "Jesus Abby, I'm so sorry. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're still hung up on him. Big time.

She wasn't my kind of woman and that's why, that night she was. This wine is the Blood of Christ. Brings the truth out of a woman sooner than any confession box does. Makes you trust a stranger with your life, your car keys, your best-guarded secret.

Step ahead immediately and do what you have to do before it's too late.

Sometimes, too, when their spiritual masters, such as confessors and superiors, do not approve of their spirit and behavior (for they are anxious that all they do shall be esteemed and praised), they consider that they do not understand them, or that, because they do not approve of this and comply with that, their confessors are themselves not spiritual. And so they immediately desire and contrive to find some one else who will fit in with their tastes; for as a rule they desire to speak of spiritual matters with those who they think will praise and esteem what they do, and they flee, as they would from death, from those who disabuse them in order to lead them into a safe road—sometimes they even harbour ill-will against them. Presuming thus, they are wont to resolve much and accomplish very little. Sometimes they are anxious that others shall realize how spiritual and devout they are, to which end they occasionally give outward evidence thereof in movements, sighs and other ceremonies; and at times they are apt to fall into certain ecstasies, in public rather than in secret, wherein the devil aids them, and they are pleased that this should be noticed, and are often eager that it should be noticed more.

Sotto molti rispetti il contribuito del clero al benessere della comunità non è molto diverso da quello dello psichiatra nella società odierna ed è stato osservato che nei Paesi dove la gente ricorre meno al confessore finisce col ricorrere di più allo psichiatra.

...spoken confession releases us into forgiveness. Speaking enacts the attitude of repentance that is the precondition of healing and restoration. Like the naming of God's attributes and promises in praise, the particularity and specificity of what is named accounts for much of the psychological efficacy of confession.

Taking responsibility for your circumstances. Take responsibility. Be strong enough to admit your wrongs, ask for forgiveness, and think of constructive solutions to solve your problems.

Su modestia y su anhelo de agradar eran tan duraderos que muchas noches comenzó por defensa y acabó por confesión, siempre al servicio de las inclinaciones del pueblo.

Suicide is a confession of failure. And like divorce, it is shrouded in excuses and rationalizations spun endlessly to disguise the simple fact that all one's energy, passion, appetite and ambition have been aborted.

Telling the truth may cause a few seconds of pain, but there's no medicine that can manage the pain of keeping lies.

Tell me something about yourself no one else knows, something I can keep for myself.

Tell me what you are thinking when you look at me like that." There was iron and ice in his voice. Not even a hint of tenderness. For some reason, his harsh manner did not bother her. She sensed something beautiful and elusive existed behind his daunting facade. The possibility of discovering what it was filled her with delicate anticipation. She looked into his eyes and answered truthfully. "I am thinking about how you make me feel." The muscles along his jaw tensed, and his eyelids lowered just the barest fraction. He brought his hands around to clasp them behind his back. To keep from reaching for her? "How do I make you feel?" Her skin tingled in reaction to the raw note in his voice. Lily took a moment as she thought about how to put it into words. It was a difficult thing to explain, and she wanted it to come out right. "I feel..." she began, then hesitated. Her breath caught in her chest, and she had to force it out on a heavy sigh. "I feel strong and weak at the same time. When you look at me, I feel exposed, as if you can see my most private thoughts. And though it frightens me- you frighten me- it is such an exquisite sensation that I do not want it to end. Because I want you to know me, to see the deepest parts of me." At first he did not respond beyond a fierce clenching of his teeth, and Lily wondered if he wanted to hear something else. Had she revealed too much of her inexperience? Should she have said something more provocative, more sophisticated? "Do you desire me?" he asked finally. The molten heat running through his words curled around her, heating her breath, her skin, her blood. She looked into his eyes and felt a swirling deep within. It tingled like white fire and spread to the most intimate places in her body.

Tell me what you feel," he demanded. "Right now, in this moment." Her arms flexed as she pulled against the rope around her wrists, stopping just shy of loosening the restraint. She licked her lips, and her gaze fell to travel hotly over his bared chest and abdomen. And then lower to where his painful erection jutted fiercely from the shadow of his groin. His entire body tensed when her attention seemed to lock on that part of his body. "I am on fire from the inside out," she whispered in a husky tone. "I feel desperate and frantic. As though I am fighting for my life." She brought her gaze back to his face. "And only you have the power to save me." She arched her body, lifting her breasts and rolling her hips. "Please, my lord. Kiss me," she sighed in a quiet demand. Kiss her? He wanted to consume her. In that breathless moment, her gaze seemed to contain all the mysteries of life and death. Mysteries he wanted desperately to explore... until he acknowledged with an intense stab of regret that a woman like Lily would not reveal the depths of her heart unless she could expect reciprocation in kind. Avenell would never know the beautiful secrets she kept. But he could know this. The sigh she breathed as he lowered his head toward hers. The silken texture and lush softness of her lips beneath his. The sweetness of her tongue, the sharp edge of her teeth. The way he so quickly and easily lost himself in the languid exploration of her mouth. She arched more deeply toward him. The peaks of her breasts pressed into his chest. He tensed at the rise in sensations but did not pull away. The kiss took priority over all else. Her tongue played fiercely against his, and her teeth scraped along his lower lip, demanding more of him. Her body melted as her moans and sweet whimpers fanned the fire burning hot inside him. She strained beneath him, arching deeper, pressing harder toward him. It was the deepest pleasure.

The change, I think, that conversion gradually effects on your heart is this: you come, over some stretched-out time, to want to do the things that God wants you to do, because you want to be close to Him.

That's really what all books are, isn't it? I mean, lists of secrets and things you only wish you’d done - a sort of deathbed confession where you're trying to get it all out while the lights are still on.

The confessor can nullify the exquisitely seasonable moment of confession by talking instead of listening. When he sees pedagogy and advice as more important than simple listening, he diverts the stream of confession.

The explanation has been written already in the three words that were many enough, and plain enough, for my confession. I loved her.

The devastation of his actions, his meanness, felt like bags of rancid trash heaped around him.

The last confession he heard was from a young hysterical girl who seemed to him to be making up a chain of small sins so that she could imagine herself full of remorse.

The first time you kissed me? That moment when your lips touched mine? You stole a piece of my heart that night. The first time you told me you lived me because you weren't ready to tell me you loved me yet? Those words stole another piece of my heart. The night I found out I was Hope? I told you I wanted to be alone in my room. When I woke up and saw you in my bed I wanted to cry, Holder. I wanted to cry because I needed you there with me so bad. I knew in that moment that I was in love with you. I was in love with the way you loved me. When you wrapped your arms around me and held me, I knew that no matter what happened with my life, you were my home. You stole the biggest piece of my heart that night. Keep them open. I want you to keep them open...because I need you to watch me give you the very last piece of my heart

The flame of testimony burns brightly when fed with the oil of grace.

The legal profession is notorious for complicating the simples of things.

The moment of confession is not merely when one hears another pronounce the words: God forgives you, or 'in God's name I absolve you.' Rather it is that point at which the sinner unfeignedly experiences himself as truly judged and pardoned by God.

There is always something. That is confession’s nature.

Then know this. Between and beneath and beyond anything else i may be, i am yours. I will never leave you. never forsake you. You may rely upon sun to rise and moon to fall. For you are the heart of me.

The sense of sin is the first step towards salvation.

There is a wide distinction between confessing sin as a culprit, and confessing sin as a child. The Father's bosom is the place for penitent confessions.

There is no room for morbid introspection in the life of a follower of Jesus. Why? Because when we search our own hearts we can easily fall into self-deception.

The secret which that confession discloses should be told with little effort, for it has indirectly escaped me already. The poor weak words, which have failed to describe Miss Fairlie, have succeeded in betraying the sensations she awakened in me. It is so with us all. Our words are giants when they do us an injury, and dwarfs when they do us a service. I loved her.

These pastries are gorgeous colors," she said. "I didn't even know I liked green, but I do. It reminds me of her. I keep thinking of her grandparents' house in India. My mother and aunt grew up in the city, but their grandparents grew coffee on a plantation a few hours away. Have you ever heard of Coorg? It's this region in the south of India where people grow tea and coffee, and they have the most beautiful forests, and we used to go there every year when I was little. My mother would take me out to show me the coffee blossoms and the tigers in the forests. It was always so green there, and the air always felt like rain. And now it's raining here and it's all just wet and cold and I'm scared that-" She broke off. "I don't know. Sorry. I'm probably not making much sense." Lila was quiet for a moment, and then she said, "What are you scared of?" Anna shook her head. She couldn't shape the words, and she wasn't sure she could say them to someone she had only just met anyway. To distract herself, she took a bite of one of the pan dulce Lila had given her. It almost melted in her mouth, moist and sweet and perfectly crumbly. "This is amazing," she said. Lila beamed. "I'm glad you like it." Another bite, another taste. Lila continued to swing gently, back and forth, in an oddly soothing rhythm. The taste of the pan dulce on Anna's tongue felt soft, comforting, like a friend holding her hand.

To confess greatness and financial prosperity will be a joke if you still waste time and spend time on non-productive events.

The weapons of divine justice are blunted by the confession and sorrow of the offender.

This life is quite a rave- few heartaches, some long waits, altering faiths & breaking cliches!

The truth is that I have long been... curious about the more passionate aspects of human existence. I do not want to live my entire life huddled beneath my bedcovers, imagining what desire must feel like. I want to experience it. I do experience it with you." Her words stole his breath. "From the first moment I saw you, my lord, I felt something ignite inside me. Something powerful. It is important to me that you know I would never have considered becoming the mistress of anyone but you." Avenell's heart stopped.

The Word cleanses us, believers should be willing to bathe daily in HIS WORD". Clean us up Lord!

To confess your sins to God is not to tell God anything God doesn't already know. Until you confess them, however, they are the abyss between you. When you confess them, they become the Golden Gate Bridge.

We need repentance. You see, repentance is not only going to a priest and confessing. We must free ourselves from the obsession of thoughts. We fall many times during our life, and it is absolutely necessary to reveal everything [in Confession] to a priest who is a witness to our repentance. Repentance is the renewal of life. This means we must free ourselves from all our negative traits and turn toward absolute good. No sin is unforgivable except the sin of unrepentance.

True confession is not just an exchange of information; it also involves entering into the pain of the person we have hurt and entering into God's pain over sin.

Vincent Marc Hoherz on infallibility. The only way to infallibility is to confess to one's fallibility.