Pivovarovalingerie Quotes & Sayings

And if time is not real, then the dividing line that seems to lie between this world and eternity, between suffering and bliss, between good and evil, is also an illusion. — Hermann Hesse

Intuitive responses are responses which originate from joy. — Sylvia Clare

Get fired, no one will call you a quitter. — Vikrmn

Confession is a difficult Discipline for us because we all too often view the believing community as a fellowship of saints before we see it as a fellowship of sinners. We feel that everyone else has advanced so far into holiness that we are isolated and alone in our sin. We cannot bear to reveal our failures and shortcomings to others. We imagine that we are the only ones who have not stepped onto the high road to heaven. Therefore, we hide ourselves from one another and live in veiled lies and hypocrisy.
But if we know that the people of God are first a fellowship of sinners, we are freed to hear the unconditional call of God's love and to confess our needs openly before our brothers and sisters. We know we are not alone in our sin. The fear and pride that cling to us like barnacles cling to others also. We are sinners together. In acts of mutual confession we release the power that heals. Our humanity is no longer denied, but transformed. — Richard J. Foster

With love, accept everything that life has to offer you. Life will be easy, kind, magnificent, and magical to you. — Debasish Mridha

Don't drop him," said Peter's mother to his father. "Don't you dare drop him." She was laughing.
"I will not," said his father. "I could not." For he is Peter Augustus Duchene, and he will always return to me.
Again and again, Peter's father threw him up in the air. Again and again, Peter felt himself suspended in nothingness for a moment, just a moment, and then he was pulled back, returned to the sweetness of the earth and the warmth of his father's waiting arms.
"See?" said his father to his mother. "Do you see how he always comes back to me? — Kate DiCamillo

Stand here by my side and turn, I pray,
On the lake below thy gentle eyes;
The clouds hang over it, heavy and gray,
And dark and silent the water lies;
And out of that frozen mist the snow
In wavering flakes begins to flow;
Flake after flake,
They sink in the dark and silent lake. — William C. Bryant