Best 653 quotes in «angels quotes» category

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    If somewhere deep within me arises some essence of having been a child, one I never experienced, perhaps the purest childness of my childhood, I don’t want to know it. Without even looking, I want to form an angel out of it and hurl him into the foremost rank of screaming angels, to remind God.

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    If we become aware that someone is sending thoughts of ill will in our direction, we do not argue with the apparent reality of malice. To do so would give it more substance. We remove the personal sense of ourself and the other person.

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    If we are serious about dreaming our awakening into being and creating a peaceful, loving earth in which the heart, spirit and soul are the only true leaders, we must continue to keep our focus on thoughts of unity and all that truly brings us together.

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    If upper management found out, they’d send you off to the Probing Department.

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    If you decide to war with us, you will fail and suffer an eternity of misery,” he informed, his tone steady and cold. “Is that explicit enough?” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” I said cheerfully, getting in touch with my inner smartass.

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    If you do not take the time to be with yourself, in your own space, you miss Plugging In to the Universe and connecting with yourself. Moreover, in that you miss recognizing all your ‘angels’ or people who will nourish and nurture your life and you theirs.

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    If this is where you ask me to run around in my birthday suit, I’m not entirely comfortable with that,” I said, smirking.

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    If we want to create Heaven on earth, we must be the creators of Heaven on earth. This means we must choose to infuse honor and love into each experience, with every soul and creature we encounter. In its simplest form, this is what Angels do.

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    If you are an angle, all you can give is boredom.

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    If you know someone that has given up hope, try giving that person some of your peace, joy, and faith!

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    If you want my address, it’s number one at the end of the bar, where I sit with the broken angels, clutching at straws and nursing their scars.

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    I guess we're not going to see them any time soon." Lucas pointed towards the stairs with his fork between bites. Cat chuckled. "Probably not," she said before taking a sip of her coffee. "I guess if I died for the man I loved and came back to life, I wouldn't be leaving our bed for a while either.

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    I hate fallen angels. They can talk about nothing but their fall and sins.

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    If you love her as much as you claim you do, why can’t you let her be happy? She’s made her choice,” Lucas asked. “It’s because I love her that I’m trying to protect her from you. I could give her a better life in the heavens, away from danger,” Clyde fired back. Lucas chuckled, further maddening Clyde. “Maybe you could give her a better life, but you don’t love her. You know nothing of love, angel. If she chose you, I’d let her go because I love her. Above my needs come hers. That’s love.

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    I glared at Collith and wondered if God had created his angels beautiful for practical reasons, rather than aesthetic ones. A beautiful thing was much harder to destroy than an ugly thing.

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    I got a kick out of those who whined about their soul. Worried they were losing it. Let’s get one thing straight, you didn’t lose your soul. You always knew where it was or where it went, you cannot lose something you gave away or sold or had broken past repair. Your soul was like your arm, you didn’t lose your arm. Your arm was either there or it wasn’t, and you usually knew why it wasn’t there

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    I had this guy’s file pulled this morning, along with the rest of your neighbors. His name is Desperado.” Pause. A few seconds passed. He was waiting for my reaction. “Did you say Desperado?” I couldn’t stop the snort of laughter that bubbled to the surface. “Yeah,” the Director confirmed. “He changed his name when he turned eighteen. It was Melvin.” I was still laughing. “’Cause Desperado is so much better than Melvin.

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    I have given it much thought. There seems to be only one explanation for why we are here. Why our souls choose to incarnate as mortals only to suffer for a hundred years over and over again. I now understand we were once angels who chose to manifest as humans in order to experience the imperfect and tempestuous human love. So you see, if angels couldn’t refuse love then who am I to refuse you? And so I yield. I surrender to this. Our eternal dance.

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    I have been capable of some mischief in the past. I know what rebellion feels like. Everyone and everything is provided with a destiny, but there is no obligation whatsoever to fulfill it. Some just prefer to ignore the humming of their soul.

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    I hoisted myself onto my elbows. "Yeah, well, if I ever come back as a Grigori, then I'll kick your ass." "You'll come back, and you'll be a Grigori." He spoke with such certainty it made me smile. "I doubt very greatly, however, that you'll kick my ass. But me and my ass will enjoy your efforts.

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    I have covenanted with my Lord that He should not send visions, or dreams or even angels! I am content with this gift of the Scriptures, which teaches and supplies all that is necessary both for this life and that which is to come.

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    I know.” The two words ghosted against the skin of her neck, sending goose bumps down her spine. “But I want to touch you. I want to put my hands all over you. I want to kiss every inch of you and taste you as you come apart in my arms. I want to feel you wrapped around me with nothing but my name on your lips and the sheets a tangled mess beneath us. I want…” He exhaled heavily into her ear. “I want. I want. I want!

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    I have spoken here of heavenly help, of angels dispatched to bless us in time of need. But when we speak of those who are instruments in the hand of God, we are reminded that not all angels are from the other side of the veil. Some of them we walk with and talk with—here, now, every day. Some of them reside in our own neighborhoods. Some of them gave birth to us, and in my case, one of them consented to marry me. Indeed heaven never seems closer than when we see the love of God manifested in the kindness and devotion of people so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind.

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    I live in a world without magic or miracles. A place where there are no clairvoyants or shapeshifters, no angels or superhuman boys to save you. A place where people die and music disintegrates and things suck. I am pressed so hard against the earth by the weight of reality that some days I wonder how I am still able to lift my feet to walk.

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    I'll bet every fucking one of your angels is going to be terrifying!

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    I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons.

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    I lied to you,’ she said, hanging her head in shame, ‘more than once. In fact, I swore that my lies were truth. I can’t understand how it could have happened. It just came out of my mouth and by the time I realised what I'd done, it was too late. ‘It’s never too late to realise that you were mistaken, Sophiel.

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    I loved you instantly, because angels can love instantly.

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    I love it when you meet an angel on Earth and they have no idea that's what they are; a human angel, an angel covered in skin. They hare the best kinds of humans to know. As your eyes widen, as you evolve and your soul is receptive, you will encounter and recognize these angels on Earth more and more.

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    I know exactly what Einstein meant when he said, "Dancers are the athletes of God." You three look like angels. I can't wait to see you dancing in the Christmas concert.

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    I'm about to cross a line with you...a line there will be no hope of me ever returning from. And I'm terrified because the thought of you excites me.

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    I love you,"she said simply. honestly, forever. "You make the idea of forever a journey into adventure rather than a thing to be endured.

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    I Love You! Three words that mean nothing if not followed through with actions. It seems to be more relevant in the terms of showing verses saying. Anyone can say it, because there are different kinds of love. But, few are willing to actually show it. Saying is one thing. Living proof is another.

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    I made the decision. I want you more than I want heaven, more than I want to be an angel. I love you more than who I was created to be.

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    I’m curious about why there’s so much honor given to death, when there is no honor in losing someone you love.

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    I’m fine with waving my naked soul at people one-on-one, but flop badly with trust and hate change. Leaps of faith give me ulcers.

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    I met a boy. And when he smiled, my life began.

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    I'm just...drifting." Maybe you are. But that's not what makes you who you are. Maybe you look at yourself and just see the scars, but it isn't a reflection of you as a whole. Sometimes the only way to do the right thing is to just keep saying no to that tempting offer.

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    I mean, angels are unresponsive. They mind their business — which is as it should be.

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    Imagine a very long time passing - and I find my way out, following someone who already knows how to leave Hell. And God says to me on Earth for the first time, "Xas!" in a tone of discovery, as if I'm a misplaced pair of spectacles or a stray dog. And he puts it to me that he wants me in Heaven. But Lucifer has doubled back - it was him I followed - to find me, where I am, in a forest, smitten, because the Lord has noticed me, and I'm overcome, as hopeless as your dog Josie whom you got rid of because she loved me.' Xas glared at Sobran. Then he drew a breath - all had been said on only three. He went on: 'Lucifer says to God the He can't have me. And at this I sit up and tell Lucifer that I didn't even think he knew my name, then say to God no thank you - very insolent this - and that Hell is endurable so long as the books keep appearing.

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    In our darkest hours in when we must look up to our Highest Almighty God. He is calling for you to be your best self now. Nothing is holding you back. Go for it!

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    In my family, I was adopted. In this process, I was given a new name and a new way of living my life, having something I've never had before. That's the kind of identity God wants to give you; He wants to make you brand new. He wants to introduce you to the life only He can bring.

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    I’m not above using unsavory beings to kick the Gods’ asses, but the Phantoms are too unpredictable for my taste,” I said.

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    I now know that I was in the presence of the only angels we are ever likely to make the acquaintance of: teachers blessed with the love of small people who are trying to find their place in the world.

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    Intellectualism is a poor master over passion

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    In the Deep South, God is a cotton king, Trussed up in plantation whites and powdered over smooth with a little bit of talcum from Momma’s compact. He’s the Georgia dust that gets on everything, in everything, Caking the soles of bare feet sifting through cracks in church pews, and catching in your lover’s eyelashes. In the Deep South, the Devil is a beautiful boy who swears and cheats at billiards on Sunday. He is the one who reaches up your skirt, pulls out the prayers your were saving for someday and lights them on fire with his tongue. He will sing hymns while feasting on your forfeit heart, call you blessed while peeling away dignity like stockings, then drag you out in front of the church to be stoned. In the Deep South, the Holy Spirit is an old woman with hands brown and gnarled as the nuts she boils and a voice soft and dark as the Appalachian sky. She is the swamp kingdom matriarch children are sent to when sins need to be wished away like warts, the presence of whom straightens the spines of wayward souls and coaxes a “Yes Ma’am” from the devil’s own. In the Deep South, Jesus is a mixed-race child with drops of destiny mingled into his blood and the names of the saints tattooed along his spine. He has his mother’s bearing, one that wears suffering nobly, and baleful eyes that speak of the sins of his forefathers. The word of God flutters from his mouth like butterflies with bodies baptized in tears and wings dipped in steel. In the Deep South, angels drink too much. They sashay and guffaw and forget to return calls. They tell white lies and agonize over what to wear. In the Deep South, angels look very much like you and I, and they cling to each other with dustbowl desperation and replenish their failing reserves of grace with ritual in the hopes of remembering what they once were, what wonders they once were capable of performing

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    In the end, Astrid couldn’t do anything about my . . . turning into light, but she made a prediction. She said the sun would help me and I would be cured thanks to its efforts.’ ‘The sun?’ ‘Yes. It was the symbol I drew from among the runes. Astrid says it represents . . .’ ‘What?’ he said, looking at me curiously, and I could see that he really wanted to hear the answer. I became embarrassed. ‘It’s not important . . .’ I muttered. ‘Please tell me!’ He turned fully towards me and I could feel myself blushing pink. ‘The . . . man in my life.’ I was done for. My heart was beating heavily but Elijah, for the first time since I had awoken, smiled. I was incredibly ashamed of myself, so I made to go back to the house, but the Dark Angel grabbed my wrist.

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    In the evening, I would tell my patients, sleep with the angels. In the morning, I would say to each as the French farmers still do, "Good morning to your and your companion" - meaning, of course, their angel.

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    In the meantime, when he went on his way back, the seed had grown into a tree which reached up to the sky. Then thought the peasant, 'As thou hast the chance, thou must just see what the angels are doing up there above, and for once have them before thine eyes.' So he climbed up, and saw that the angels above were threshing oats, and he looked on.

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    Inside of my soul they lay One twisted devil and hundreds of angels pray. So whenever my devil sings its gloomy song through my mind, Those angels gather and whisper through my heart; Prayers of hope and peace that my soul rises upon the highest sky…