Being Retreated Quotes & Sayings

Do not use worldly methods or apply human force to prevent sin — Sunday Adelaja

You know, what Einstein has just said isn't so stupid. — Wolfgang Pauli

I wanted to be a police officer for a long time so I could be just like my dad! — Doreen Cronin

The truth is, the one you love isn't a wizard. Just a regular person who can't read your mind at all. — Arini Putri

In short, the greatest gift of relationship proves to be that as the result of encountering each other, we are obliged to grow larger than we had planned. — James Hollis

How does this even happen? How can someone you love be there one second and then gone the next? — Ilona Andrews

If Shirley were not an indolent, a reckless, an ignorant being, she would take a pen at such moments, or at least while the recollection of such moments was yet fresh on her spirit. She would seize, she would fix the apparition, tell the vision revealed. Had she a little more of the organ of acquisitiveness in her head, a little more of the love of property in her nature, she would take a good-sized sheet of paper and write plainly out, in her own queer but clear and legible hand, the story that has been narrated, the song that has been sung to her, and thus possess what she was enabled to create. But indolent she is, reckless she is, and most ignorant; for she does not know her dreams are rare, her feelings peculiar. She does not know, has never known, and will die without knowing, the full value of that spring whose bright fresh bubbling in her heart keeps it green. — Charlotte Bronte

The imagined memories had to have as much weight as the real, or we had to at least pretend they did to such a degree that they just very well might have. And so I never questioned Angela about that particular story, or about all the troubling things that it pointed to, content to believe that at least in this version things worked for her better than they did in the one I never heard. — Dinaw Mengestu

Love of truth will bless the lover all his days; yet when he brings her home, his fair-faced bride, she comes empty-handed to his door, herself her only dower. — Theodore Parker

In the spring, during the Festival of Flora, when Rome was crowded with visitors from all over Italy, Clodius's mob found itself for once outnumbered by ordinary citizens who despised their bullying tactics. Clodius himself was actually jeered at the theatre. Unused to anything other than adulation from the people, according to Atticus he looked around him in astonishment at the slow handclapping, taunts, whistles and obscene gestures, and realised - almost too late - that he was in danger of being lynched. He retreated hastily, and that was the beginning of the end of his domination, for the Senate now recognised how he could be beaten: by appealing over the heads of the — Robert Harris

Humility is nothing but truth, and pride is nothing but lying. — St. Vincent De Paul

Before there was Cocaine or vodka or sex or any of that, there was fantasy. There was escape. That was my first addiction. I remember being a little kid and imagining everything different, myself different. How did I get the idea in my head at age eight that everything was better somewhere else? Why would a child have a hole inside that can't get full no matter what she does? The real world could never make me happy, so I retreated to the world inside my head. And as I grew, as the real world proved itself more and more painful, the fantasy world expanded. — Amy Reed

Her mind was like her room, in which lights advanced and retreated, came pirouetting and stepping delicately, spread their tails, pecked their way; and then her whole being was suffused, like the room again, with a cloud of some profound knowledge, some unspoken regret, and then she was full of locked drawers, stuffed with letters, like her cabinets. — Virginia Woolf

I would sit on the beach, as waves crashed and retreated over the sparkling sand like lost dreams. All those oblivious molecules, joining together, creating something of improbable wonder.

Often such sights were blurred by tears. I felt the beautiful melancholy of being human, captured perfectly in the setting of the sun. Because, as with a sunset, to be human was to be in between things - a day, bursting with desperate color as it headed irreversibly toward night. — Matt Haig

When I was eleven I stopped dreaming the dreams that didn't come true, I stopped talking to people who didn't listen, I lost hope and I retreated. I assumed that the root of the problem was that I was too strange for the real world. That being the case, I created a charming and dynamic personality to make the necessary forays into the Outside, and I kept my strangeness for myself; my own peculiar jewels under lock and key. — Rosanne Cash

The moments like these, the passing doubts, were the temptations that caught you if you were not careful. — Norman Mailer

She'd had sex with a demon. Tayla swallowed bile and tried to keep her stomach from heaving. She needed to shower. And douche. — Larissa Ione

It was floating. Waiting.
It had no sense of how long It had been in this state. Its awareness had retreated into a tiny core at the center of Its being, away from the searing torment of separation, Its very essence ripped apart. Never had It known such sensation. So It had retreated, further and deeper, wrapping Itself in a cocoon of Light; waiting only for a call, for an opening, that It might be reunited with Its Beloved. Waiting until ...
Something stirred within. Suddenly, there is a reaching, a pulling. Its awareness opens and It is caught in a field of gravity. It plunges down, irresistibly down toward the blue planet, unable to control or navigate. — J. Valor

I'd rather have drugs and liquor and divine visions than this empty barren fatalism on a mountaintop," he wrote toward the end of his stint. These words are especially poignant when you consider that two years earlier he'd written to Allen Ginsberg: "I have crossed the ocean of suffering and found the path at last." For Kerouac, the path of Buddhism proved too difficult, too alien to his temperament, and he eventually retreated into the mystical French Catholicism he'd known as a boy. Its fascination with the martyrdom of the Crucifixion jibed with his sense of himself as a doomed prophet destined for self-annihilation. The essential Buddhist ethic - do no violence to any living being - was a principle that tragically eluded him in his treatment of himself. — Philip Connors

We can stop picking on ourselves for picking on ourselvesWe can cherish ourselves and our lives. We can nuture ourselves and love ourselves. We can accept our wonderful selves, with all our faults, foibles, strong points, weak points, feelings, thoughts, and everything else. It's the best thing we've got going for us. It's who we are, and who we were meant to be. And it's not a mistake. We are the greatest thing that will ever happen to us. Believe it. It makes life much easier. — Melody Beattie