Best 1738 quotes in «comfort quotes» category

Amalie took his hand and spread it against her heart. Her smile was utterly tranquil. 'The world changes and the world stays the same', she told him, ... 'The old moon sets. New moon rises.

And, as for the oil, it is a masterpiece. You’ll see.” Before dinner that night, we tested it, dripping it onto slices of bread that had been rubbed with the flesh of tomatoes. It was like eating sunshine.

And if I am comfortable with it, why do I still call it loneliness? Because--and I think somehow she would understand this--you can have and recognize a sadness in your alienation and in other people's alienation and still not long to be around anyone. I think that if you wonder about other people's loneliness, or contemplate it at all, you've got a real leg up on being comfortable on your own.

And slowly a discussion begins - as Morrie has wanted all along - about the effect of silence on human relations. Why are we embarrassed by silence? What comfort do we find in all the noise?

And then, a strangely comforting thought trickled through me—I had nothing, so I could do anything now. Anything I wanted. I had nothing left to lose.

And then I felt him. My only anchor in this storm, my only path back. One hand grabbed my shoulder and held me firmly in place. The other banished the air driving the monster. As suddenly as the whirlwind started, it died, and I collapsed. Kovis caught me in his arms.

And yet, I was scared of falling asleep, because the moment I fell asleep my wounds would heal and right then I didn’t want that to happen. Right then, I found a strange but real comfort in the pain.

And—you can be very sure of this—all who belong to the Lord Jesus Christ; who have seen the all-importance of the soul; who have seen their dread condition under the condemnation of the law; who have believed in Christ and His sacrificial death; who have committed themselves to Him, taking upon themselves the scorn and sarcasm of the world; those who have counted all things loss for his sake, who have denied themselves and taken up their cross daily and followed Him; those who have said, “I care not what happens to me as long as all is well between me and Him”—these are they who will be with Him in the new heaven and the new earth and will share and enjoy His glory for ever and ever.

Anyone who has used that comforting phrase 'a nice cup of tea' invariably means Indian tea.

As I came closer, it took shape: long, slender, and curling, with numerous heart-shaped leaves. I felt my soul leap inside me. For Ivy's tree was now hung with her namesake. Jade-green ivy clutched the bark with such strength that, no matter how hard you pulled, it would never let go. I know I started crying then. My friends came to my side at once, patting my back and telling me that everything was going to be okay. And though the tears kept coming, I knew they were right. Everything was really going to be fine now. Because here, in front of me, was something I'd been hoping and praying for. I'd been searching for a sign, a signal to give me comfort in Ivy's passing and to tell me she was okay. And at last, here it was, growing all around me.

As some people turned to religion for comfort, so, Highsmith wrote in her notebook in September 1970, she took refuge in her belief that she was making progress as a writer. But she realised that both systems of survival were, however, fundamentally illusory. She wrote, she said, quoting Oscar Wilde because, 'Work never seems to me a reality, but a way of getting rid of reality'.

a single poem the thing that can keep me light on my feet, when my soul is heavy with sorrow.

A single opinion is comfortable. Comfort is hostile to change. Progress is uncomfortable because it changes the comfort.

At any time, and under any circumstances of human interest, is it not strange to see how little real hold the objects of the natural world amid which we live can gain on our hearts and minds? We go to Nature for comfort in trouble, and sympathy in joy, only in books. Admiration of those beauties of the inanimate world, which modern poetry so largely and so eloquently describes, is not, even in the best of us, one of the original instincts of our nature.

At a time of global instability we have become distanced from each other and the environment. We have lost the immediacy, comfort and truthfulness of the literal and actual, and need to find alternative ways to consume and connect. Hygge describes a way of being that introduces humanity and warmth in our homes, schools, workplaces, cities and nations.

As uncomfortable as it might be, I refuse to let the comfort of being agreed with suffocate my opinions.

a ti también, en otras playas de oro, te aguarda incorruptible tu tesoro: la vasta y vaga y necesaria muerte.

. . . at this season, the blossom is out in full now, there in the west early. It's a plum tree, it looks like apple blossom but it's white, and looking at it, instead of saying "Oh that's nice blossom" ... last week looking at it through the window when I'm writing, I see it is the whitest, frothiest, blossomest blossom that there ever could be, and I can see it. Things are both more trivial than they ever were, and more important than they ever were, and the difference between the trivial and the important doesn't seem to matter. But the nowness of everything is absolutely wondrous, and if people could see that, you know. There's no way of telling you; you have to experience it, but the glory of it, if you like, the comfort of it, the reassurance ... not that I'm interested in reassuring people - bugger that. The fact is, if you see the present tense, boy do you see it! And boy can you celebrate it.

Be brave. You didn't travel this far to languish within the walls of your comfortable self.

Autumn is coming. For as long as I can remember, I've talked to the moon. Asked her for her guidance. There's something deeply spiritual about her waxing and waning. She wears a new dress every evening, yet she's always herself. And she's always there.

Beauty can help fill the cracks in people’s hearts and comfort their souls.

Because being comfortable meant she might lower her guard, and she could not let that happen.

Ava sang to remind them of what was important – the things that mattered in their lives. She sang about the love of hearth and home; the fire at night in the fireplace; dinner warm on the table; a caring wife and hard-working husband who relied on each other for everything; of babies still in their cradles; toddlers climbing on knees wanting to be cuddled; of teenage boys and girls helping their parents run the homestead. She sang of warm summers and cozy winters with lots of heavy blankets; of harmony and love; well-being and gratitude for the harvest - for the bounty by which they all lived. She sang of the joy of a new life; the births of their children; the enduring love in the twilight of old age between a man and his wife - the years behind them like the building blocks of an enormous castle.

A woman will feel emotionally secure when you can listen to her stories. Then she will learn to love you.

Believe in God our Eternal Father, He who is greatest of all, who stands ever ready to help us and who has the power to do so. Believe in Jesus Christ, the Savior and the Redeemer of mankind, the worker of miracles, the greatest who ever walked the earth, the intercessor with our Father. Believe in the power of the Holy Ghost to lead, to inspire, to comfort, to protect. Believe in the Prophet Joseph, as an instrument in the hands of the Almighty in ushering in this the dispensation of the fullness of times.

Be comforted; it is not from yourself that you must expect it, but on the contrary you must expect it by expecting nothing from yourself. (Page 55)

Because tragedy happened to you, it gives you a greater sense of oneness with others who experience tragedy. Because we have been comforted through the Word of God, we in turn may be able to comfort others.

Before you can brighten the corner where you are, you must first develop dislike for the initial dull corner you once endured. You can’t change what you are comfortable with.

Marcie: I know you’re still wounded. Danny, you have to let it go. That is what this mind game is all about, discovering who we are.       Humans lie to themselves all the time. There should be no disgrace in being human, that is what I believe.

[bookcover:Lessons Learned|13578440] Another shot, and for some reason, I’m the only one who can’t move. Who can’t scream. Who can’t do anything but watch as the young man’s body slumps over his tray. Finally, I find my voice and scream his name.

Blessed be His name that He has arranged that one Person of the Sacred Trinity should undertake this office of Comforter, for no man could ever perform its duties. We might as well hope to be the Savior as to be the Comforter of the heartbroken!

Blessed be the inventor of photography! I set him above even the inventor of chloroform! It has given more positive pleasure to po or suffering humanity than anything else that has "cast up" in my time or is like to--this art by which even the "poor" can possess themselves of tolerable likenesses of their absent dear ones. And mustn't it be acting favourably on the morality of the country?

Break out to go out ___________________ The birds dare to break the egg shell It does so in order to get out of that Hell When it finally succeeds, it’ll then fly To its comfort zone it’ll say bye Are you being confined in a small space How long will you remain at that place? Before you can explore more territories, Break away from the former glories. Yesterday’s excellence is today’s average You must strive to be better age after age Never accept the available mediocrity As the only preferable opportunity Decide to grow from below to hero And make it a point to vacate level zero Reach out and arise with power God’s blessings on you, will shower Agree to grow, never attempt to be slow Be not afraid. Never doubt. You’ll flow The grace of God will be your guide Taking you along, side by side.

...But as for Gabriel Sullivan." Ren reach out his six-fingered hand toward me. I clasped it. Warmth flooded me. But something else. Certainty. Trust. Compassion. Courage. He pulled his hand back, smiled. "That is all I can tell you.

Breathe deeply and remember to love.

Bullying has its root cause in the need for adoration. If adoration is not fulfilled, the bully seeks to control a group through deceit and punishment of the individual who is perceived as being Non-Conforming. Adoration is a form of comfort. Take away the comfort, you dis-empower the bully.

But even the longest day wears to sunset.

But looking at you was nothing like looking at those pictures. When I first saw,” he said, looking down at her chest, then up again to meet her eyes, “it hurt, almost a physical pain. Since you finished chemo, you've gotten so strong again. Sometimes I almost forget what you've been through. But seeing your scars, they reminded me of your hurt. How you've been cut apart. What you gave up.” It was important, not keeping herself back from him, putting parts of herself off limits. But it stung when he sank down to brush his lips over the two biggest scars. “But your scars are beautiful. I mean, I look at them, and I want to kiss, I want to touch, I feel this tenderness for them. You know how when you love someone, when you've been with them a long time and you know all the little lines and curves and planes of their body, how you look at little parts of them—the corner of their mouth, the back of their hand, the little crease where their earlobe meets their jaw—and you can feel like you're in love with that little piece of them? Maybe soon, I'll look at your scars like that. But right now, it's this feeling I've never had for a part of someone's body, before, because they promise me you're well. That you get to live. That we get to have a long life together.” Her love for him was swelling up in her chest, the way it did sometimes, an ache she wanted to hold on to.

But once you accept the fact that you have always been alone, and will always be, then your perspective can begin to change. You can become aware of the small kindnesses, the little comforts. Be grateful for them.

But she wouldn't pray, she took what comfort and credit she could for not praying; it wasn't that one disbelieved in prayer; one never lost all one's belief in magic. It was that she preferred to plan, it was fairer, it wasn't loading the dice.

But they get some comfort out of the made up stories. And if that helps them get along maybe I should not poke fun.

But thou art with us, with us in the past, The present, with us in the times to come. There is no grief, no sorrow, no despair, No languor, no dejection, no dismay, No absence scarcely can there be, for those Who love as we do. Speed thee well!

But the nightmare was a strange comfort to me; in it, I found a sense of escape, and were it possible to go live in that nightmare, I would have, bizzare though that may sound.

But we have, if not our understanding, our own experience, and it feels to me sealed, inviolable, ours. We have a last, deep week together, because Wally is not on morphine yet, because he has just enough awareness, just enough ability to communicate with me. I’m with him almost all day and night- little breaks, for swimming, for walking the dogs. Outside it snows and snows, deeper and deeper; we seem to live in a circle of lamplight. I rub his feet, make him hot cider. All week I feel like we’re taking one another in, looking and looking. I tell him I love him and he says I love you, babe, and then when it’s too hard for him to speak he smiles back at me with the little crooked smile he can manage now, and I know what it means. I play music for him, the most encompassing and quiet I can find: Couperin, Vivaldi, the British soprano Lesley Garret singing arias he loved, especially the duet from Lakme: music of freedom, diving, floating. How can this be written? Shouldn’t these sentences simply be smithereened apart, broken in a hurricane? All that afternoon he looks out at us though a little space in his eyes, but I know he sees and registers: I know that he’s loving us, actively; if I know nothing else about this man, after nearly thirteen years, I know that. I bring all the animals, and then I sit there myself, all afternoon, the lamps on. The afternoon’s so quiet and deep it seems almost to ring, like chimes, a cold, struck bell. I sit into the evening, when he closes his eyes. There is an inaudible roaring, a rush beneath the surface of things, beneath the surface of Wally, who has now almost no surface- as if I could see into him, into the great hurrying current, that energy, that forward motion which is life going on. I was never this close to anyone in my life. His living’s so deep and absolute that it pulls me close to that interior current, so far inside his life. And my own. I know I am going to be more afraid than I have ever been, but right now I am not afraid. I am face to face with the deepest movement in the world, the point of my love’s deepest reality- where he is most himself, even if that self empties out into no one, swift river hurrying into the tumble of rivers, out of individuality, into the great rushing whirlwind of currents. All the love in the world goes with you.

Catherine had never wanted comfort more, and [Henry] looked as if he was aware of it.

By stepping outside your comfort zone to do something peculiar, you confirm that you can do more than you've done. Move out!

Change comes with sacrifice... When you want to make a change you must be prepared to make a sacrifice of escaping the comfort zone!

Change is uncomfortable, but it’s helpful!

Childish certainty that nothing could get him while under the covers wasn't much comfort, but it was a start.

Christ embraced me with all my sin and guilt that I may embrace him in all his righteousness.