The crimson thread of God's love that weaves its way throughout the story of His mercy in our life, stands out against the backdrop of the darkness which invades any valley.
When I was in Colditz, that impenetrable fortress, whittling away my life, I wanted to know this." "Looks like you're still there, Shura." "No," he said. "I'm in New York, a fly on the wall, trying to see you without me.
A garden did not need people in order to be alive and natural. The flowers might have died, and the last leaves might be falling, but the space was still redolent with the odors of life. It contained a thousand reassurances that no matter what one pe...
You know how I get angry sometimes? That's because it's the only way I can still feel. And I need to test myself, to make sure I'm really here.
So many thoughts ran through my head. Most of them contained the same, simply three words so often strung together that it was too much a classic cheese or cliche to say it, but they still had meaning, no matter how many times they had been repeated.
It will never belong in a Hallmark card, but I drove a car into a house and killed a man for you. You chained me up for days and I still wanted to come back and talk over our darkly sordid, slightly kinky, and a lot warped relationship. Face it, you'...
I had no hope. Yet expectation lived on in me, the last thing she had left behind. What further consummations, mockeries, torments did I still anticipate? I had no idea as I abided in the unshaken belief that the time of cruel wonders was not yet ove...
Even if you do nothing, say nothing and be nothing, there will still be many who will criticise you. It is much better to be criticised for success than be condemned for failures because success rids you of the many miseries of life.
Maybe what I wanted was stupid. Maybe it wasn't even something I could have. But, still it was mine. I didn't think I could sacrifice my dreams, no matter how much my family meant to me.
This susceptibility to impressions had been his undoing, no doubt. Still at his age he had, like a boy or a girl even, these alternations of mood; good days, bad days, for no reason whatever, happiness from a pretty face, downright misery at the sigh...
We still can't see you!" groaned Alice. "How do we fix that?" asked Melanie. "I don't know...think visible thoughts," said Colleen. "Think visible thoughts?" yelled Melanie. "Actually, that might work. Do it Izzy,
If you use magic outside the school, we are going to get into more trouble than ever. I’m still not allowed to eat sweets after the last trouble we got into. They will lock us up and there will be no sweets and no adventuring ever again.
And?” I crossed my arms over my chest. I almost tapped my foot waiting for him to answer, but caught myself and held my foot still. That would have been weird—way too much like my mother. ~Milayna
And Egypt ? What is Egypt strenght?her resilience ?her ability to absorb poeple and events into the pores of her being? is that true or is it just a consolation ? a shifting of responsibility? and if it is true , how much can she absorb and still rem...
If {Death} comes for you?” he said. “Would you be so sanguine then?” She laughed and the pensiveness was gone. “No indeed. I will curse the stars and go down fighting. But it will still have been a wonderful thing, to cross the mist.
Hard to believe that so nearby, just across the Channel, such atrocities could still occur in their supposedly civilized world, that one could wake up one morning and find oneself bereft of brothers, parents, friends, all with the slice of an ax.
I don't break down," she announced. "Got it?" He got it. He was already pulling back, looking ashamed of himself, but somehow he was still holding her wrist. "I never break down. I'm a lawyer.
I really, really like him. I mean, I like him more than it makes any sense to... Like my heart has already signed the contract and picked up the keys even though my brain is still going 'wait... what?
...I still cannot tap on your walls and discover by the hollow or firm sounds which of your walls are merely decorative, and which ones hold everything up.
...being aware that the sacred quality hidden in the experience of eroticism is something impossible for language to reach (this is also due to the impossibility of experiencing of re-experiencing anything through language), Bataille still expresses ...
In effect, painting is the still memory of [the artist's] human motion, and our individual responses to it depend on who we are, on our character, which underlines the simple truth that no person leaves himself behind in order to look at a painting.
