Cascadas Para Quotes & Sayings

Mental prayer is, as I see it, simply a friendly intercourse and frequent solitary conversation with Him who, as we know, loves us. — Teresa Of Avila

Because I love you." I refuse to allow fear into my voice. "Because I love you, nobody else will ever touch me. Even though you are constantly touched. — Mary Elizabeth

The people I work with, the people I photograph, become a kind of family for me. — Joyce Tenneson

He wanted to please me, and he'd do anything in that effort. — Mia Sheridan Archer's Voice

In common with many others in the varied branches of our profession, my academic education is subnormal. — Loretta Young

Yells of joy, thousands in chorus. It sounded almost like they were cheering her on. — Brandon Sanderson

Sometimes rebuffing him was a difficult, but this evening Margo whispered something about the prohibition on sex during the Yom Kippur holiday--as if they were a family of rabbis!--and he gave in and turned on his side. Rejected and repelled, he would fall into his nighttime sleep; in just a few moments she would hear that sound she hated, the heavy breathing that would rise to his nostrils and turn into a saw-like din, and Margo would wonder whether to shake him or let him be. If she awaken him, there was a chance he might start probing all over again; if she let him snore, he would disrupt her thinking, and she would not be able to give herself over to the brilliant idea she had come up with while staring in the mirror. — Anat Talshir

Don't work bit by bit, but paint everything at once by placing tones everywhere. - CAMILLE PISSARRO — Stephanie Cowell

Art, not less eloquently than literature, teaches her children to venerate the single eye. Remember Matsys. His representations of miser-life are breathing. A forfeited bond twinkles in the hard smile. But follow him to an altar-piece. His Apostle has caught a stray tint from his usurer. Features of exquisite beauty are seen and loved; but the old nature of avarice frets under the glow of devotion. Pathos staggers on the edge of farce. — Robert Aris Willmott