Best 1738 quotes in «comfort quotes» category

In changing times, question everything you take for granted.

I need anything, anything that will stop me from living in the kind of death the bourgeois eat, the death called comfort.

In her focus on personal comfort, she had forgotten about eternal values.

Injustice is a cold, unrelenting reality. It can be tempting for us to use our comfort to ignore injustice or rationalize it away. But God would have us join His work.

In its aspect of comfort, hygge involves a sense of wellbeing which encourages relaxation and peacefulness. It excludes by definition a distracted or preoccupied state of mind: hygge is commitment par excellence to the present moment in its basics. In the words of Hartmann-Petersen, 'Hygge rushes in of itself as soon as one is carefree.' -Judith Friedman Hansen

In my view, there are many different kinds of hugs. There are the ones you give to huggers, people who hug all the time. These, to me, are by far the least special of all hugs. I see the outstretched arms for the third time in as many days-the expectation of an embrace- and I am drawn in by a feeling of good manners rather than sincere closeness. It's like shaking hands. There are also those I hug only once in a great while because I hardly ever see then, but who I don't necessarily feel that close to. Those kinds of hugs are probably the most awkward. I'm expected to hug so I do it, even if I'm not sure I want to. Hugs like these are brief, and I am always left wondering what sort of look the other person had on their face where I couldn't see. And then there are HUGS. Like the hugs my parents give me when I'm having a bad day, any sort of hug from Armon the giant, or a hug like the one with Yipes right now. Yipes and I are not apt to embrace each other unless there's a good reason to do it, but when there is a good reason, it's a hug that feels like it ought to.

Innovation is the art of creating a better, a more convenient and more comfortable way for the world to pass. Leaders leave footprints everywhere they go. They are impact makers and innovators.

In reality, the world is not an arena of comfort but comfort that works! Comfort that makes impact! Yes, comfort that changes lives and leaves a distinctive footprint! Truly, comfort that does not work is only discomfort at work in silence. So many people shall dwell in comfort without working with it only to meet discomfort one day and remember comfort!

Instinctively I started to panic when Dr. Martinez strapped my arm down, and then the panic just melted away, la la la. Someone took my other hand. Fang. I felt his calluses, his bones, his strength. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I slurred, smiling dopily up at him. I took in his startled, worried expression but dismissed it. “I know everything’s fine if you’re here.” I thought I saw his cheeks flush, but I wasn’t too sure of anything anymore.

In suiting the action to the words, however, I perceived that the stars were all wrong. That was my undoing. I had looked up unthinkingly, anticipating the familiar, and, finding it gone, began to cry like a baby. Whereupon Peter stopped the gig and took me in his arms, kissing me so that my face was soon sore both from kissing and crying.

IN THE HANDS OF MAN He who creates a poison, also has the cure. He who creates a virus, also has the antidote. He who creates chaos, also has the ability to create peace. He who sparks hate, also has the ability to transform it to love. He who creates misery, also has the ability to destroy it with kindness. He who creates sadness, also has the ability to to covert it to happiness. He who creates darkness, can also be awakened to produce illumination. He who spreads fear, can also be shaken to spread comfort. Any problems created by the left hand of man, Can also be solved with the right, For he who manifests anything, Also has the ability to Destroy it.

In the minds of most people, there is a conflict which is black skin is associated with plowing and white “European” skin with comfort

I remember as a child scrambling among the brilliants of books or, battered with agonies, or in the spectral half-life that requires loneliness, retiring to the attic, to lie curled in a great body-molded chair in the violet-lavender light from the window. There I could study the big adze-squared beams that support the roof--see how they are mortised on into another and pined in place with oaken dowels. When it rains from rustling drip to roar on the roof, it i s a fine secure place. Then the books, tinted with light, the picture books of children grown, seeded, and gone...

I slept and I woke. She gave me a ring made from a leaf, a cluster of golden berries, a flower that opened and closed at the stroking of a finger.... And once, when I startled awake with my face wet and my chest aching, she reached out to lay her hand on top of mine. The gesture was so tentative, her expression so anxious, you would think she had never touched a man before. As if she was worried I might break or burn or bite. Her cool hand lay on mine for a moment, gentle as a moth. She squeezed my hand softly, waited, then pulled away. It struck me as odd at the time. But I was too clouded with confusion and grief to think clearly. Only now, looking back, do I realize the truth of things. With all the awkwardness of a young lover, she was trying to comfort me, and she didn't have the slightest idea how.

I remember her words to me when I left school: Your mind will be your comfort. It is, sometimes. And sometimes it isn't.

I roamed alone; O, barren dreams. My echoed voice, what lonely comfort. Here is my salvation: I hear the triumph drum; the rhythm of the rising, the long-awaited sun.

[..] I sensed it was finally safe to ask the question without seeming like an ingrate. God? Where were you? For 107 days where were you? Where were you in my unconsciousness and where were you in that hospital room when I wanted to feel your presence with fireworks and explosions of emotions and supernatural palpability? Where were you, God? [...] I was there, my child, [...] I was the peace, I was the breath, I was the comfort.

I sob and clutch my stuffed bunny. Nick leaps up on my bed and squashes his body against mine, nuzzling my face with his muzzle until I lift it enough for him to lick away my tears. While the pixie rages downstairs, I wrap my arms around Nick’s furry body and cry into him. My shoulders quake from the effort of it. He whimpers once or twice and tries to lick my face some more, but mostly he watches the door, and eventually I stop with the pathetic sobbing stuff and just keep crying.

I squeezed his hand, so tight it likely pained him. But sometimes comfort needed to sting more than the sorrow for it to break into the grief.

The dead do not become stars or ghosts. in fact, they are hardly undone. Soon their randomly dispersed parts reappear one by one on foreign hosts- the beloved ear or freckled arm, separate as a milagro or bracelet charm. It is not grotesque, though odd. Even a piece does us some good. “Charms

It all I can do not to cry. I make myself wood I say to myself, Celie, you a tree. That's how I come to know trees fear man.

It [Foucault's Pendulum] can be very comforting for people of my generation, who ate disappointment for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

I think he's looking for comfort, but I don't have any to give.

It always feels good and comforting to relax whilst there is work to be done but, it feels fulfilling to work hard, overcome slothfulness and challenges with tenacity and achieve your aim when you should have relaxed

I think of these desert years of mine, not of my choosing. Maybe if it were all smooth and comfortable, if my pride and professionalism were defining life for me, God's steel-quiet, penetrating word would have been lost in the babble and sheen of success.

It is a comfort to hear the words of God in times of stress.

I throw my arms around her without even thinking first, the way I used to with Daddy when he came home from a trip. "Thank you," I say into her waist. Her clothes smell so good. I feel her hand resting on my head, and for that second I feel like nothing could ever go wrong. Not when there's Miss Mary to hug.

It is a great truth that you will rise again. It is a sweeter truth that you will "always be with the Lord." Whatever else you draw comfort from, neglect not this deep, clear, and over-flowing well of delight. There are other sources of good cheer in connection with the glory to be revealed, for heaven is a many-sided joy, but still none can excel the glory of communion with Jesus Christ, wherefore comfort one another in the first place and most constantly, with these words, "So we will always be with the Lord.

It is an unwritten rule of life that when you are in acute pain and have no one to console you, someone, from somewhere, will emerge in your life to offer you comfort. However, ‘that’ someone will vanish from the scene once you begin to regain grip on your life, leaving you with another sense of loss to nurse.

it is an ocean of burning oil I am cast adrift upon, no sea’s repose; I pass from waking agonies… to the semiconscious trance of torment in which the smaller, earlier, deeper rings of the brain know only that the nerves scream, the body aches, and there is no one to turn crying to for comfort.

It's better to be happy than comfortable, if you can't have both.

It's always comforting to tell yourself things are going to be alright, because even if a part of you senses that you're lying, it's comforting to shut it out- shut out reality and pretend- because pretending is nice.

It’s comforting to me,” he added, “that beauty can come from violence, if only in metaphor.

It is better to explore a gainful uncertainty than to sit in a painful certainty.

It is better to have God over your shoulder, than carry the world alone on your back.

It is better to heal than harm.

It is better to hope than be un-happy.

It is not good to be too free. It is not good to have all one needs. (Page 11)

It is uncomfortable to keep your dreams in a house just behind a public toilet; your dreams will surely attract bad odours from the waste products of people in detracting environments. Keep it away from negative people!

It’s about needing to feel loved and comforted but feeling unworthy of real love and comfort. It’s about hating having needs and desires. For some of us, needs make us feel greedy and selfish. For some of us, having needs means we can easily get hurt if those needs are not met. For some of us, we don’t believe we deserve to have our needs met. We try to convince ourselves that we don’t need anything by avoiding food, one of our greatest primal needs.

It’s going to be okay, Eric," Urte said, helping me sit up. I shook my head. "Lying is my forte, Urte, not yours.” (Eric.)

It's ironic how your comfort zone can be tiring sometimes.

It's not your job to judge or to decide if someone deserves something. It's your job to lift the fallen and comfort the broken.

it’s hard giving out love to people who shove it back in your face. That’s not what love’s supposed to be about. No, it’s not perfect and people get hurt, but it’s a give and take. And it should be comfort, not pain.

It’s not that rich people are comfortable about money because they’re rich, but that they’re rich because they’re comfortable.

It was a powerful feeling, to comfort someone.

It was a huge comfort to have a person who'd keep you honest with yourself and who also gave you safe harbour.

I've tried praying. It gives me comfort. But not as much as a cup of tea and a ginger nut biscuit.

It was such a relief to be able to sob and have someone know all the reasons why.

It was the best night in he had had in a long time, maybe ever. Finally, as he told her goodbye, he knew he had some things to take care of when he got back home. Chicago was home now. As long as she was there, it was his home.