Best 227 quotes in «name quotes» category

My arrival Her womb’s delight Her existence My living light Her wounds My scars Her skies My stars Her days My hours Her strength My powers I breathe my name Being her child Without mother Life’s beguiled From the poem 'Mother

my face for peace - no more war in my name

My fingers come alive when I write your name.

My last name is Poirot, like Agatha Christie's famous detective Hercule Poirot; no relation to the fictional character.

My love, you are driving the entire world mad. The nightingales are committing suicide one by one out of jealousy of your voice. The roses took one glance at your beauty and folded themselves from shame. The trees now only whisper your name and the sky hasn’t stopped crying since you looked up. Have pity on us, my love. We have already broken all the mirrors and glass out of fear that you will forget us and fall in love with yourself once you see what we all cannot stop seeing.

My modest opinion is- a baby’s name should not be longer. It can be of 2 or 3 words. Say, if someone’s name is Alif Chowdhury, it is needless to keep a nickname; he can be called Alif!

My name,” I whispered in her ear, and she shivered with pleasure. “Say my name again. Not in anger, or disgust, but as you did just now. As if I am the only man in the world who can satisfy you. ~Liam C.

My name is not Mara Dyer.

Namen bergen Macht.

Name and form are simply illusions of separation. Love doesn’t make us blind; rather, it erases the illusions so we can see clearly.

Name *** I do not take anything But I give I do not break anyone But I mend broken one Love is my name It is pure and sweet I reside in every heart.

Name, no, nothing is namable, tell, no, nothing can be told, what then, I don't know, I shouldn't have begun.

Naming can satisfy a need, it can shorten a conversation that otherwise might go on for hours.

Nanak, the whole world is in distress. He, who believes in the Name, becomes victorious.

Namensmagie ist Erkenntnis, Wissen, Vertrauen. Die Seele, die sich entfaltet.

Names have a great influence on the destiny of the person, who bears the name

Namen sind Identität, ohne Identität ist man ein Nichts.

NAMING THE EARTH (a poem of light for national poetry day) And the world will be born again in circles of steaming breath and beams of light as each one of us directs our inner eye upon its name. Hear the cry of wings, the sigh of leaves and grass, smell the new sweet mist rising as the pathway is cleared at last. Stones stand ready - they have known since ages and ages ago that they were not alone. Water carries the planet's energy into skies and down to earth and bones. The cold parts steadily as we come together, bodies and hearts warm, hands tingling. We are silent but our eyes are singing. We look, we feel, we know, we trust each other's souls, we have no need to speak. Not now, but later, when the time is right, the name will ring within the iron core of each other's listening - and the very earth's being. Every creature, every plant, will hear it calling, tolling like a bell - a sound we've always felt but never dared to hope to hear reverberating - true at last, at every level of existence. The poets come together to open the intimate centre. Believe in life and air - breathe the light itself, for these are the energies and rhythms that we need to see, to touch, to reach, to identify, to say, the NAME. Colours on your skin fuse and dissolve - leave the river clean for pure space and time to enter and flow in. We all become one fluid stream of stillness and motion, of flaring thought pulses discovering weird pools and twists within where darkness hides from the flames in our eyes but will not snare us. We probe deeper still, journeying towards a unity which will be more raw and yet also more formed than anything written or spoken before. Our fragile bodies fall away - and the trees, and the roots of trees, guide us - lead us away from the faces we remember seeing each day in the mirror - into an ocean of dreams seething with warmth, love, where the beginning is real, ripe, evolving. And the world is born again in circles of steaming breath and beams of light. An ache - a signal - a trembling moment - and the time is right to say the name. We sing as one whole voice of the universal - all the words, the names of every tiny thirsting thing, and they ring out together as one sound, one energy, one sense, one vibration, one breath. And the world listens, beats, shines, glows - IS - Exists!

Newyear is the other name of a dreamful future

Never justify someones wrong action, without them apologizing first & admitting their wrongs. If you do. You are not making them better, but you are making them worse on the bad things they do.

Not everyone who died had left a "memory" and not everyone who had left a memory had left a "blessed" one. Therefore, not all have died should be tagged "...of a blessed memory

Nombres tenían pero podían prescindir de apellidos.

Not being allowed to persecute someone else in the name of your religion does NOT equate to religious persecution.

On the day Princess Diana died, a group of students had gathered before a lecture, talking about what they had heard on the radio that morning, repeating “paparazzi” over and over, all sounding knowing and cocksure, until, in a lull, Okoli Okafor quietly asked, “But who exactly are the paparazzi? Are they motorcyclists?” and instantly earned himself the nickname Okoli Paparazzi

On any given day, if I conduct a new search, I find additional posts referencing my name.

Ophelia,' said the boy. He said it very quietly. She didn't like the way he said that at all. He sounded sad and as though he expected more from her. 'And how do you know my name anyways?' she said. 'I never told you it, not once.' 'I heard it once, a long time ago.' He was full of mysterious sentences like that.

People don't always need a name.

She had not been the sort to have cared about the naming of things that existed well without it…

People loathe the idea of destruction, particularly when it is the destruction of property or of life one is talking about (Destruction of the good name of a person, however, is a completely different matter)

Polly Esther Doe was born at 8:03 a.m. on August 14.

RSL has more star-liners than any other company, and covers every commercial route in known space. Demeter is one of the biggest, carrying up to 4500 passengers and crew at any single point on its never-ending, circular cruise around the Terran Empire. And me? Where do I fit in? My name is Sean Lange, and you will probably have never heard of me. It’s sad somehow, I always wanted to leave some kind of a legacy in this life, and perhaps to be remembered. Instead, circumstances have arranged it so that this is probably the last time I will ever use that name.

Scottish Play Doe was born at 4:13 a.m. on September 6th. The ink was barely dry on his father's new tattoo.

She took another step. The simple motion of her moving leg was like a dance, the unexaggerated shifting of her hip entrancing as a fire. The arch of her bare foot said more of sex than anything I'd seen in my young life.

So I say a name, even if self-bestowed, is better than a number. In the register of the potter's field I shall soon have both. What wealth!

Simple is her aim; to be a candle that lightens the world with the name of the Beloved.

Since God doesn't have a name, I'll give him the name of Simptar. It doesn't come from any language. I give myself the name Amptala. As far as I know no such name exists. Perhaps in a language earlier than Sanskrit, an it-language.

Some of the people who hate me love some of the sentences that I have written, until they get to the name of the person to whom the sentences are attributed.

Taggin’ that name on you, that was like casting a curse on you. Oh, baby, your ma made a sorry, shitty prediction on your whole life and hung a name on you that would help the sorry, shitty stuff come true.” “You ain’t bringin’ me any news.

Stripping her of her name had been almost as satisfying as removing her dress.

The Honorable Ferdy, who had been pondering at intervals all day how his cousin's wife came by such a peculiar name, now introduced a new note into the conversation by saying suddenly, 'Can't make it out at all! You're sure you've got that right, Sherry?' 'Got what right?' 'Hero,' said Ferdy, frowning. 'Look at it which way you like, it don't make sense. For one thing, a hero ain't a female, and for another it ain't a "name." At least,' he added cautiously, 'it ain't one I've ever heard of. Ten to one you've made one of your muffs, Sherry!' 'Oh no, I truly am called Hero!' the lady assured him. 'It's out of Shakespeare.' 'Oh, out of "Shakespeare," is it?' said Ferdy. 'That accounts for my not having heard it before.' 'You're out of Shakespeare too,' said Hero, helping herself liberally from a dish of green peas. 'I am?' Ferdy exclaimed, much struck. 'Yes, in the "Tempest," I think.' 'Well, if that don't beat all!' Ferdy said, looking around at his friends. 'She says I'm out of Shakespeare! Must tell my father that. Shouldn't think he knows.

The children were pining for their father. They were dreaming about him. Though she had brought them up like they were her very life, though they knew nothing about their father, though their father did not even know about their birth or growing up—they wanted him. Sons needed to grow up inheriting their father’s name. She was Janaki—daughter of Mother Earth. Yet, she became Janaki—daughter of Janaka—under his care. These boys would get recognition only when they were regarded as Rama’s offspring. Rama was Dasarathi—‘of Dasaratha’—he was fond of that name, revered it and took pride in it. These children too wanted that kind of acknowledgement. It was indeed the order of the world. But would that happen? Would Rama embrace these children? Would he give them his name? Would he acknowledge them as descendants of his family? If that did not happen, how these innocent hearts would grieve! If Rama accepted them as his children and took them to Ayodhya, what would happen to her? She had left her father who loved her like his own life and taken Rama’s hand. Rama, whom she loved like her own life, had let go of her hand. These children whom she had brought up, caring for them like her own life—would she be able to hold on to them? Should she even attempt to do that? Would they remain in her grasp even if she did? Would they not run to their father if he called them? What did she have, other than the disgrace that Rama, bowing to public opinion, had heaped on her? In comparison, Rama had a kingdom—which was so dear to him that he could not give it up even for her sake. Would these children give up such a kingdom for her sake? Would their kshatriya blood allow them to do that? Sita’s mind was in turmoil. As a mother she had no power over them. Power never fascinated her anyway. She only had love—she loved her father; she loved Rama; she loved her children. There was no desire for power in any of those relationships. She did not want it. These children were nature’s gift to her. She had raised them like fawns. When fawns grow up, they go off into the forest, never to return. These children too … Sita struggled to rein in her mind.

That monstrosity you honour with your name - which is also mine, thank you!

The cover, title, the name of the author, how the work starts, the name of characters all this is important information which should be gather as for conclusion.

The great William Shakespeare said, "What's in a name?" He also said, "Call me Billy one more time and I will stab you with this ink quill.

The name does not deserve the poem, but the poem deserves the name.

The memory of my name will last longer than the lives of many men.

The knowledge that God lives in us will destroy all the limitations in the mind of those who have the name of Christ, but yet are weak

The name sounds almost too perfect. And as I said, you look perfect, too. The only thing left... is to be perfect.

The only way to survive after death is by breathing life into the universe before death.

The only thing that comes close to defining me correctly is my love.