Best 2438 quotes in «angel quotes» category

The memory of the previous nights fun and games rose again. Hell this whole week had been weird. With the attack at the boat launch being the shit flavored ice cream on top of the crazy pie.

The moment you doubt your truth is the moment you lose your angelic nature. But don’t worry; nothing is permanent.

Then I guess we have a problem…because this man, Luhan Kane, is under arrest by decree of the Elders’ Circle. My authority outweighs yours.

Then what’s the problem? You keep telling me she’s just a job. So, fine. The job’s done. You found her. You trained her. Now she has to do her part. She has to kill Dmitri. Whether she can survive the battle or not doesn’t matter, and it isn’t up to you to decide.” Luc got up from the swing and went to Daniel. “Listen, man, I’m trying to be a friend here. You’ve been down here so long you’re starting to think like one of them. Quit trying to grow a conscience and just finish what you started.

The only river i would like to be drown is the river filled with the blood of Jesus.

The only way Father is going to be upset in this case, is with the way the two of you are behaving toward one another. We are family, whether you believe it or not. Your lack of faith in Lucifer is what will do the damage in the long run. It has nothing at all to do with the time I spend with him.

The path’s been set , The way has been pointed out to me, I need strength to walk, and make the first step, I need the light to see, and wisdom to discern, I need Evil and God, The path’s been set for me to follow, The way has been pointed out to me, I need courage, and hope, Time to unleash the beast, and set the dragon free, Time to rise and defy Death, Time to defeat Satan, and destroy God, Time for war and violence, time to love and kill, Time to tame the demons of the mind, Time to cut the angel’s wings Time to show your fangs and claws to the Devil, I need courage, I need hope, I need strength to slit the devil's throat Give me Satan, Give me God, Give me death, give me life, The path is been set for me to follow

The philosopher is not the spokesman of his age, but an angel imprisoned in time.

There is dancing and laughter in hell, an angel weeping openly on a park bench in heaven. My mother, dead and frantic in an attic. A white shirt on a floor. An old man in a wheelchair, rubbing his eyes. Here it is, here it is! the occupational therapists sing as they rise to the surface of the earth, smiling, bearing their terrible surprise.

There are very few things that live in both this world and the world of dreams. Most are gods, angels and demons. The Stone you hold was made by Vlad Valkire the son of an angel and a demon. By the divine blood that ran in his veins, Valkire could see the light and hear the song of creation -- if only as glimmerings and whispers. "Over time, he became aware of the light and the music and as he grew so did his understanding of it. At the age of twenty two, he began his greatest labor -- the making of the Wyrd Stones. In them he captured the light and song of creation and by them some of the powers of gods, angels and demons fell into the hands of elves and men. A sorcerer who knows its secret may -- like a god, angel, or demon -- stand with one foot in this world and another within the world of dreams. "Your Stone is a gateway into the world of dreams, Luthiel. When you sing, it opens and you are, in part, taken there. Others who hold a Wyrd Stone like yours may know when someone crosses into dream. When you sang, I could hear you quite clearly.

There is always a demon inside every angel. And there is an angel inside every demon. All they need is a bit of darkness and light together to see each other's face.

There is no dark, darker than the distorted great light.

There is no saint here. I have attained wisdom from life's experiences... the positive, the negative, the destructive, the nourishing. I have been medicine for some and poison for others. I've learned a lot about heaven from aligning with angels and I have learned a lot about hell from acting like a devil. I offer my scars... what you call "wisdom"... Seeds of knowledge that have been watered by tears and flowers of hope that are nourished by love... It's a garden of experience made beautiful by self acceptance... The insight I have gathered from my comfort of living within both the light and the shadow.

There is no record in Scripture that an angel visited John’s cell to explain the meaning of his persecution. This great, godly man who was the designated forerunner to Jesus went through the same confusing experiences as we. It is comforting to know that John responded in a very human way. He sent a secret message to Jesus from his prison cell, asking “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?” (Matthew 11:3). Have you ever felt like asking that question?

There's an old folk saying that goes: whenever you delete a sentence from your NaNoWriMo novel, a NaNoWriMo angel loses its wings and plummets, screaming, to the ground. Where it will likely require medical attention.

...there’s no such thing as a dirty fight.

The trouble with being an angel on Earth was that he was still a man. He got hungry. He thirsted. His lungs clamored without the draw of air. And for this woman, the only one in a thousand years, his body and soul ached. The trick was to will his mind, and ignore the Earthly sensations, as he'd done so many times with pain and trouble. Desire was no different, a call of the flesh. He could divide himself-acknowledge the lust and act on intellect. But see, the trouble with being an angel was that he was still a man.

There's nothing wrong with George. It is not possible to find fault with George. He's a perfect Scottish angel. He always shares the snacks that his mother sends him and he's better- looking than Jace. There, I said it. I'm not taking it back.

The soft whisper of your angelic voice it brings a divine ecstasy to my heart.

The story of the angel announcing what the church calls the immaculate conception, is not so much as mentioned in the books ascribed to Mark, and John; and is differently related in Matthew and Luke. The former says the angel, appeared to Joseph; the latter says, it was to Mary; but either Joseph or Mary was the worst evidence that could have been thought of; for it was others that should have testified for them, and not they for themselves. Were any girl that is now with child to say, and even to swear it, that she was gotten with child by a ghost, and that an angel told her so, would she be believed? Certainly she would not. Why then are we to believe the same thing of another girl whom we never saw, told by nobody knows who, nor when, nor where? How strange and inconsistent is it, that the same circumstance that would weaken the belief even of a probable story, should be given as a motive for believing this one, that has upon the face of it every token of absolute impossibility and imposture.

The summer I turned eleven, I found out that ghosts are real. Guess it's hard to rest nice and easy in your coffin if you got stuff on your mind. Your soul stays chained to earth instead of zipping up to heaven to sing in one of the angel choirs. Sometimes ghosts show up in the msot peculiar places. Sometimes ghosts fool you. Then you are those ghosts that hang around because we have unfinished business. Business that sinks like old crawfish left in a bucket for a week. That's some nasty smell let me tell you. But the most important thing I learned is that ghosts can help you spill your guts before guilt eats you up and leaves a hole that can't ever be fixed no matter how many patches you try to steam iron across it.

There was a heaven beyond anything he knew where there was no jet fuel, no jumping, no burning towers... but he wasn't looking beyond yet. He was still looking back.

The total acceptance of ourselves in the present moment without judging things that happen, letting things happen as they happen, is the final act that frees us from the ego: this is the unconditional surrender of the ego to the Higher Self.

This world is too fast and the people are so busy they may never get the time to stop and admire you when they pass you by; and I'm afraid this will slowly make you forget how very beautiful you are. Never forget that, love. You're an angel. The most beautiful of all angels.

The world isn’t big enough for all of us.

The world is full of angels; if you can’t find one, be one.

They may hail you like an Angel. They may claim you are the world's prince of princes. They may lift you with praise many kilometers above sea level. They may say you are the best of the bests. ....But always remember "you are a human being" with flesh and blood.

Thinking belongs to duality. Love belongs to the Oneness. There is no thought without judgment, there is no Unconditional Love without the silence of the mind.

This human body is the greatest body in the universe, and a human being the greatest being. Man is higher than all animals, than all angels; none is greater than man. Even the Devas (gods) will have to come down again and attain to salvation through a human body. Man alone attains to perfection, not even the Devas.

This time, I sat next to a pixie girl called Takara, who had pinkish hair and wore a bright pink dress to match. She was the first forest-dweller I had seen wearing jewellery: she was wearing a necklace and bracelet of finely worked crystal beads. When she noticed my interest, she removed her bracelet and held it out to me. “Sophiel, I would be so pleased if you would wear this!” I was surprised by this kind and very selfless gesture; after all, I had not been admiring her jewels with any intention of asking her to part with them! “You’re very kind, Takara, but I was merely admiring your handiwork!” I said, trying politely to refuse her gift. “Mitsuko told me that you make your jewellery yourself. You’re very talented, they’re really lovely pieces, but I wouldn’t want to take them away from you. It’s you that makes these jewels really beautiful!

The waves lie on the beach; Your hair on your back of angel. (Les vagues s’allongent sur la plage; - Tes cheveux sur ton dos d’ange. )

The world’s most beautiful angel is love inside your soul.

Think about the whole Biblical story of Mary. She wakes up and sees something with a lion, eagle, and human face that wants to inseminate her with the Holy Seed. She’s practically a saint just for not killing herself on the spot.

This is what I mean..." I say softly, "you don't seem very angel-y right now" "I'm not feeling very angel-y right now", he reply

This was the first time I thought of S— that day. Her music was beautiful, her voice was beautiful, her body was beautiful. Even the dirty little pads of her feet were beautiful. I cursed myself then. For once, heaven had sent me Beauty in its most perfected form and I abandoned it. She might not have been a girl after all but an angel: a force to guide me on this hazardous path of life I hurry down. How can life be hazardous if it can only end in death?

To forgive others, in order to forgive ourselves, because in their roles as our mirrors, they have been nothing other than a tool to our lack of self-love, a lack of self-recognition, and a lack of self-respect.

To forgive is to set someone free.

Truth has the eyes of an angel, lies have the horns of the devil. Reality puts on a cloak weaved by God.

Unfortunately, angels do not survive on the Earth... that’s a tragic verity… Pure souls need more perfect world: the one, where their kindness wouldn’t be seen as weakness; where their brightness wouldn’t trigger so much envy; where their sincerity and open heart wouldn’t be considered as an invitation to push them down and take advantage of them. You need to learn how to protect yourself.

Unfortunately, angels do not survive on the Earth... that’s a tragic verity.

What are they fighting about?” Saba listened for a moment and closed her eyed in frustration. “They’re arguing scripture.” “Your brother is arguing scripture? With an angel?

Upon awakening you may find no need to speak nothing to say and no one to convince. Your very presence will spread happiness wisdom and truth to all you may encounter... along the Way.

We are all One and others are simply reflections of ourselves. When the mirror is cleared, the reflection becomes clean too.

We lose in order to find. We forget in order to remember. We die a death in the ego in order to be reborn in the Oneness, until the end of all our duality, until we become Human Angels: aware, compassionate messengers of Love in service to the Oneness.

Verily, I say unto thee, many are the adepts that have looked upon the back parts of my father, and cried, "our eyes fail before the glory of thy countenance.

Well, I never been to much school, you understand, but it seems to me that you're assuming something you shouldn't assume... that God sees the world like you do; one thing at a time, from just one spot. Seems to me that he's supposed to be everywhere, know everything. ...Think about that; he knows what you're feeling, how you're hurting. Feels my pain, your pain like it was his own. Hell son, the question isn't how God could care about just one person; question is, how could he not?

Well, I guess I kinda worked it out. If there's no great glorious end to all this, if nothing we do matters... , then all that matters is what we do. 'Cause that's all there is. What we do. Now. Today.

We're assigned to children who are doomed.

Whatever you are physically, male or female, strong or weak, ill or healthy - all those things matter less than what your heart contains. If you have the soul of a warrior, you are a warrior. Whatever the color, the shape, the design of the shade that conceals it, the flame inside the lamp remains the same. YOU are the flame. That's what I believe.

What had he done? Something horrible, something terrible, but something he'd done as a child. Can you commit murder in innocence? It's too big a thing for the human mind to take in, that's the problem. And it grew with the ever-larger newspaper pictures of a girl who was near enough an angel, even before she died. Only the young die good. And Angela Milton died young enough to be perfect.