I wonder why peopke are so afraid of love. Of different kinds of love. I just don't get it. Why aren't we afraid of racism" Of war? But love? It just doesn't make sense.
Sovereignty is not to be considered as an attribute of God-in the sense of being a quality which exists in God (such as omnipotence and omniscience)-rather it is the result of His attributes.
She did not want to say it, because it made no practical sense, but in the end she went to Japan for the delicate sake cups, resting in her hand like a blossom; she went to Japan for loveliness.
Belief isn't supposed to make sense, at least not all the time. In that, it finds its power. It gets to creep up on you and carry you forward. Until you can carry yourself again.
Church, in the New Testament sense of the word, is not a meeting we attend, but a group of which we are a part, and a group we serve within.
Sometimes, the things They say, the laws They make, the way the world spins doesn't make any sense at all... Which is exactly why you have to ask "Why?" and keep on asking until you get the TRUTH...
I had a feeling that Pandora's box contained the mysteries of woman's sensuality, so different from a man's and for which man's language was so inadequate. The language of sex had yet to be invented. The language of the senses was yet to be explored.
There's so much humanity in a love of trees, so much nostalgia for our first sense of wonder, so much power in just feeling our own insignificance when we are surrounded by nature.
Energy doesn't lie. Keep sensing it, trusting it, letting it liberate you.
Power people wear power like a coat of arms. If can't sense them on the spot you don't know what power is.
The Irish way of telling a story is a complex and elaborate one, complete with wild exaggerations, a certain delight in improbable fantasy, and a heightened sense of drama.
We are all human, and our senses are quicker to prompt us than our reason. Every man gives off a scent, and that scent tells you how to act before your head does.
Sometimes fear and confusion can blunt your perceptions. You become so driven to make sense of things, to identify the dangers lurking around the next corner, that you neglect to see the wonders all around you.
Man approaches God most nearly when he is in one sense least like God. For what can be more unlike than fullness and need, sovereignty and humility, righteousness and penitence, limitless power and a cry for help?
Cath shook her head. "Now is all you get," she spat out, wishing she could make more sense. Wishing for more words, or better ones. "Now is all you ever get.
What’s it like, for you to sense me?” she asked. Her eyes were wide now, emerald green in the lamplight and peering into Héyowan. He blushed, taken off guard. ‘Like I’m not alone,’ he almost said.
How can you make sense of a place if it won't hold still to be counted and even its colors aren't fast? Their job was to imagine, never to know. The truth, as generations of directors had reminded their charges, would only get in the way.
Besides our eyes, skin and the other senses through which we receive the shadows of the exterior reality, we have a 'mental eye' (intelligence) with which we can perceive reality as it is.
There is no justice in love, no proportion in it, and there need not be, because in any specific instance it is only a glimpse or parable of an embracing, incomprehensible reality. It makes no sense at all because it is the eternal breaking in on the...
Are all of us the same, I wonder, navigating our lives by interpreting the silences between words spoken, analysing the returning echoes of our memory in order to chart the terrain, in order to make sense of the world around us?
If a novelist were so uncouth and possessed of so little moral sense that he should write of illicit love, his book would be barred from the public libraries and he woukd be ostracized by society.
