Knekelhuis Bandcamp Quotes & Sayings

First you term me pretty ... and then dub me terrifying in the next breath," he said. "I do not know what to make of it."
"Make of it that you are ... pretty terrifying, Sir Broderick Dougray," Monet said, smiling at the warmth of his breath in her hair. — Marcia Lynn McClure

Let us put ourselves into His hands, and not be startled though He leads us by a strange way, a mirabilis via, as the Church speaks. Let us be sure He will lead us right, that He will bring us to that which is, not indeed what we think best, nor what is best for another, but what is best for us. — John Henry Newman

Suffering begins to dissolve when we can question the belief or the hope that there's anywhere to hide. — Pema Chodron

Now go and brag of thy present happiness, whosoever thou art, brag of thy temperature, of thy good parts, insult, triumph, and boast; thou seest in what a brittle state thou art, how soon thou mayst be dejected, how many several ways, by bad diet, bad air, a small loss, a little sorrow or discontent, an ague, &c.; how many sudden accidents may procure thy ruin, what a small tenure of happiness thou hast in this life, how weak and silly a creature thou art. — Robert Burton

I hate those endless descriptions of a heroine's physical attributes ... it really bothers me how in books it seems like the only two choices are perfection or self-hatred. As if readers will only like a character who's ideal
or completely shattered. — E. Lockhart

Each soul or entity will and does return, or cycle, as does nature in its manifestations about man; thus leaving, making or presenting-as it were-those infallible, indelible truths that it -Life-is continuous. — Edgar Cayce

Call it fate--call it talent. I had a knack for getting in the nastiest messes. — Carrie Clevenger

Beauty is at once a royal path to God and an impediment to reaching God if it is taken as a god in itself. — Seyyed Hossein Nasr

Try not thinking of peeling an orange. Try not imagining the juice running down your fingers, the soft inner part of the peel. The smell. Try and you can't. The brain doesn't process negatives. — Douglas Coupland

(he) reminded me by his presence, by his natural and plain manner of being good, that there still existed a just world outside our own, something and someone still pure and whole, not corrupt, not savage, extraneous to hatred and terror; something difficult to define, a remote possibility of good, but for which it was worth surviving. — Primo Levi

If you can't beat them and don't care to join them, Then " FU*K THEM". — Katraina L Flowers

I have a confession," he said softly.
"Oh no," I sighed. "It's not about the gloves is it?"
"No," he grinned, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. "I've seriously been crushing on you for about three years."
"Really?" I was genuinely surprised. His asking me out a few times never equated to a crush to me. I knew he probably liked me a little, but I didn't think he had a crush on me.
"Okay, maybe more than crushing. I'm pretty sure I've had some pretty strong feelings for you for a long time. — L.D. Davis

The benefits of a philosophy of neo-religious pessimism are nowhere more apparent than in relation to marriage, one of modern society's most grief-stricken arrangements, which has been rendered unnecessarily hellish by the astonishing secular supposition that it should be entered into principally for the sake of happiness. Christianity and Judaism present marriage not as a union inspired and governed by subjective enthusiasm but rather, and more modestly, as a mechanism by which individuals can assume an adult position in society and thence, with the help of a close friend, undertake to nurture and educate the next generation under divine guidance. These limited expectations tend to forestall the suspicion, so familiar to secular partners, that there might have been more intense, angelic or less fraught alternatives available elsewhere. Within the religious ideal, friction, disputes and boredom are signs not of error, but of life proceeding according to plan. — Alain De Botton

He saw the black water and the declining sun and the swan dipping down, its white wings flashing, and slowing and slowing till silver ripples carried it home. It was a scene which seemed the heart of this land. The lowing sun and the one star waking, white wings on a black water, and the smell of rain, and the long lane fading where a voice comes in the falling night.
Ireland, said Scrotes.
Yes, this is Ireland.
— Jamie O'Neill