Soul S Gate Quotes & Sayings

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul. — William Ernest Henley

This is the ultimate end of man, to find the One which is in him; which is his truth, which is his soul; the key with which he opens the gate of the spiritual life, the heavenly kingdom. — Rabindranath Tagore

Mary properly bore the name of Virgin, and possessed to the full all the attributes of purity. She was a virgin in both body and soul, and kept all the powers of her soul and her bodily senses far above any defilement. This she did authoritatively, steadfastly, decisively and altogether inviolably at all times, as a closed gate preserves the treasure within, and a sealed book keeps hidden from sight what is written inside. The Scriptures say of her, 'This is the sealed book' (cf. Rev. 5:1-6:1; Dan. 12:4) and 'this gate shall be shut, and no man shall enter by it' (Ezek. 44:2). — Gregory Palamas

Every phenomenon on earth is symbolic, and each symbol is an open gate through which the soul, if it is ready, can enter into the inner part of the world, where you and I and day and night are all one. — Hermann Hesse

The Soul selects her own Society
Then - shuts the Door
To her divine Majority
Present no more
Unmoved - she notes the Chariots - pausing
At her low Gate
Unmoved - an Emperor be kneeling
Upon her Mat
I've known her - from an ample nation
Choose One
Then - close the Valves of her attention
Like Stone - — Emily Dickinson

Who wants to go down the creepy, smelly staircase into God only knows what?" Brandon said.
"I'm going," Dana said.
"I'm with you." Reece stared at Brandon.
"Why not?" Brandon shrugged. "It's not like we have the chance of bumping into anything, say, demonic. Right? — James L. Rubart

They left the city by the Dung Gate and entered the Valley of Death. The sun was so fierce that it seemed as though the day reflected their rage. Either that or the heavens were casting fierce judgment upon their actions. If the latter, Ezra no longer cared. He felt the still, small voice call to him from somewhere deep inside, as though that tiny part of him, the compassionate corner of his soul, had not been entirely stifled. But all around him roared the voice of rage, of vengeance. Ezra was so enthralled by the crowd's presence and power that he could acknowledge the small voice and yet not care what it said. — Janette Oke

See, this divine lover is at the gate. He does not merely knock, but He remains there knocking. He calls to the soul. — Francis De Sales

Once, hurrying through a busy airport to get to my gate on time for a connecting flight, I came upon a lady in a wheelchair. Amidst the chaos of the hundreds of people rushing around us, my eyes met hers. The sweetest smile appeared on her face. I smiled back, but I knew she would never fully realize how that small gesture had filled my soul. I believe that God is in our everyday. Many moments occur in our lives which reveal his face, his touch, his voice. Look for him today. He will be found. — Kathy Troccoli

Gate
Do not wait. Until too late. To see a loved ones' soul. Open the gate. Do not wait. To see a loved ones' soul. — Paul Gallagher

A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead. — James Joyce

To know how to read is to light a lamp in the mind, to release the soul from prison, to open a gate to the universe. from Pavilion of Women page 292 — Pearl S. Buck

Its not what we leave behind in this world, its about who we leave behind. A person soul will be the only thing that shall pass through the gate of heaven. — Ray Price

The Swamp of Despond is that place set before the narrow gate where true and false pilgrims alike are assaulted by their own internal corruption and pollution. The dirt and scum that has attached itself to our hearts and minds is agitated and revealed by both the workings of a guilty conscience and the devouring avarice of the enemy of our souls.The — John Bunyan

It's your destiny to be here, Dana."
"Oh really. How nice. Is it Brandon's destiny to be here too?"
"Yep. — James L. Rubart

Auguries of Innocence
..A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell thro' all its regions.
A dog starv'd at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipt and arm'd for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul. — William Blake

Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night. — William Shakespeare

A nation can survive its fools, and even the ambitious. But it cannot survive treason from within. An enemy at the gates is less formidable, for he is known and carries his banner openly. But the traitor moves amongst those within the gate freely, his sly whispers rustling through all the alleys, heard in the very halls of government itself. For the traitor appears not a traitor; he speaks in accents familiar to his victims, and he wears their face and their arguments, he appeals to the baseness that lies deep in the hearts of all men. He rots the soul of a nation, he works secretly and unknown in the night to undermine the pillars of the city, he infects the body politic so that it can no longer resist. A murderer is less to fear. — Marcus Tullius Cicero

Self-seeking is the gate by which a soul departs from peace; and total abandonment to the will of God, that by which it returns. — Jeanne Marie Bouvier De La Motte Guyon

Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God, My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee. — William Shakespeare

A full and powerful soul not only copes with painful even terrible losses, deprivations, robberies, insults; it emerges from such hells with a greater fullness and powerfulness, and most essential of all with a new increase in the bliss-Fulness of love.

I believe that he who has divined something of the most basic conditions for his growth in love will understand what Dante meant when he wrote over the gate of his inferno: 'I, too, was created by eternal love. — Friedrich Nietzsche

Brandon reached down and yanked up a handful of grass and roots, the sides of the blades cutting into his hand like a razor. What happened to the grass, Dana? Why isn't it green anymore? — James L. Rubart

Where else is the gate of life if not in the eyes of your soul? — Sorin Cerin

At some point in each person's life, the way is illuminated by a divine light, perceivable not by the senses but by the soul. He is given the end of a golden string and is given to understand that it leads to Heaven's gate. But whether he holds fast and follows it or whether, after a while, he again wanders off on his own-or, what is the same thing, carelessly lets if all from his grasp-is up to him. God's 'equal opportunity policy' of matriculating souls into Heaven is not intended to enforce equality of results (unlike some of our earthly versions) but only to provide true and perfect equality of opportunity. There is no such thing as the salvation of all, as the universalists would have it, or the salvation of only the 'elect', as the Calvinist pre-determinists would have it. There is only the salvation of those who elect it. — Steven W. Mosher

Where do nations begin? In airport lounges, of course. You see them arriving, soul by soul, in pre-activation mode. They step into no man's land, with only their passports to hold onto, and follow the signs to the departure gate. There, among the impersonal plastic chairs and despite themselves, they coalesce into the murky Rorschach stain of nationhood. — Kapka Kassabova

One day, a woman found herself standing at Heaven's gate. The angels' only question to her was, "Zusai, why weren't you Zusai?" Within that simple question lies the heart of all our soul work. If you are David, why aren't you fully David? If you are Susan, why aren't you completely Susan? We are here on Earth to become who we are meant to be. — Angeles Arrien

A King Inside Who Listens

There are many people with their eyes open
whose hearts are shut. What do they see?
Matter.

But someone whose love is alert,
even if the eyes go to sleep,
he or she will be waking up thousands of others.

If you are not one of those light-filled lovers,
restrain your desire-body's intensity.
Put limits on how much you eat
and how long you lie down.

But if you are awake here in the chest,
sleep long and soundly.

Your spirit will be out roaming and working,
even on the seventh level.

Muhammad says, I close my eyes and rest in sleep,
but my love never needs rest.

The guard at the gate drowses.
The king stays awake.

You have a king inside who listens
for what delights the soul.

That king's wakefulness
cannot be described in a poem. — Jalaluddin Rumi

I want you to lock an image of these falls into your mind. I want you to consider it every time you press into the Spirit.'
Reece stooped and picked up a leaf lying on the platform, held it up, and pointed to a drop of dew that hung from the end. 'This is the amount of water most people who follow Jesus tap into. But that'
Reece pointed at the falls
'is the kind of power available when we fully tap into the Spirit. — James L. Rubart

The years passed. Untouched by age, he lived and did as his creator had suggested. Victim after victim, drink after drink, he tried to stop his hunger; however, it did not last for long. The tingling ache of emptiness crawled up from his gut until he could no longer stand it, and soon he would be out on the hunt all over again. He had never felt guilt for his murders. The power inside him reassured that he was above such emotions. Besides, he was the gate that opened their soul to his creator. He fed not only himself, but it. — Jettie Necole

Tonight let's slay some dragons. — James L. Rubart

I left her there crying as I walked toward the gate. A piece of my soul had died when Dimitri had fallen. Turning my back on her now, I felt another piece die as well. Soon there wouldn't be anything left inside me. — Richelle Mead

Across his forehead was stamped the word WORTHLESS. How ironic. Exactly what someone might find stamped on his own forehead if they could see it. Physician, heal thyself. — James L. Rubart

Beyond its practical aspects, gardening - be it of the soil or soul - can lead us on a philosophical and spiritual exploration that is nothing less than a journey into the depths of our own sacredness and the sacredness of all beings. After all, there must be something more mystical beyond the garden gate, something that satisfies the soul's attraction to beauty, peace, solace, and celebration. — Christopher McDowell

As Pliable and Christian find themselves walking together toward the narrow gate, we see the stark contrast between the two pilgrims. One is burdened; the other is not. One is clutching a book that is a light to his path. The other is guideless. One is on the journey in pursuit of deliverance from besetting sins and rest for his soul. The other is on the journey in order to obtain future delights that temporarily dazzle his mind. One is slow and plodding because of his great weight and a sense of his own unrighteousness; the other is light-footed and impatient to obtain all the benefits of Heaven. One is in motion because his soul has been stirred up to both fear and hope; the other is dead to any spiritual fears,
longings, or aspirations. One is seeking God; the other is seeking self-satisfaction. One is a true pilgrim; the other is false and fading.
15. — John Bunyan

The irrevocable Hand That opes the year's fair gate, doth ope and shut The portals of our earthly destinies ; We walk through blindfold, and the noiseless doors Close after us, for ever. Pause, my soul , On these strange words for ever whose large sound Breaks flood-like, drowning all the petty noise Our human moans make on the shores of Time . O Thou that openest, and no man shuts; That shut'st, and no man opens Thee we wait! — Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

Like all poetical natures he loved ignorant people. He knew that in the soul of one who is ignorant there is always room for a great idea. But he could not stand stupid people, especially those who are made stupid by education: people who are full of opinions not one of which they even understand, a peculiarly modern type, summed up by Christ when he describes it as the type of one who has the key of knowledge, cannot use it himself, and does not allow other people to use it, though it may be made to open the gate of God's Kingdom. — Oscar Wilde

Every soul confined in a prison of sin, guilt, or perversion has a key to the gate. The key is labeled "repentance." If you know how to use this key, the adversary cannot hold you. — Boyd K. Packer

We will die soon; and still our "hope is from him." May we not expect that when we face illness He will send angels to carry us to His bosom? We believe that when the pulse is faint and the heart is weak, some angelic messenger shall stand and look with loving eyes upon us and whisper, "Come away!" As we approach the heavenly gate, we expect to hear the welcome invitation, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world."1 We are expecting harps of gold and crowns of glory; we are hoping soon to be among the company of shining ones before the throne; we are looking forward and longing for the time when we shall be like our glorious Lord - for "We shall see him as he is."2 Then if these are your hopes, O my soul, live for God; live with the desire and resolve to glorify Him from whose grace in your election, redemption, and calling you safely "hope" for the coming glory. — Anonymous

Let the enemy rage at the gate; let him knock, pound, scream, howl; let him do his worst. We know for certain that he cannot enter our soul except by the door of our consent. — Saint Francis De Sales

Let your door stand open to receive Him, unlock your soul to Him, offer Him a welcome in your mind, and then you will see the riches of simplicity, the treasures of peace, the joy of grace. Throw wide the gate of your heart, stand before the sun of the everlasting light ... — Ambrose

Brandon tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Unbelievable. He had his name. God had given it. Just like Reece said he would. — James L. Rubart

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll. I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. Contrary — Ben Sasse

Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. — Mark Twain

An ancient gate, sealed by the powers of Light and Darkness, barred the way to the Pillars beyond. To depart this place and continue my journey, I would have to find the means to open it. — Amy Hennig

Max is short for General Maximus Decimus Meridius. — James L. Rubart

Thus it transpired that even Berlin could be mysterious. Within the linden's bloom the streetlight winks. A dark and honeyed hush envelops us. Across the curb one's passing shadow slinks: across a stump a sable ripples thus. The night sky melts to peach beyond that gate. There water gleams, there Venice vaguely shows. Look at that street
it runs to China straight, and yonder star above the Volga glows! Oh, swear to me to put in dreams your trust, and to believe in fantasy alone, and never let your soul in prison rust, nor stretch your arm and say: a wall of stone. — Vladimir Nabokov

My cell buzzed midstorm with a text from Soul that said, We are here. See lights in house. No answer at door. NO DOOR. Please advise. Are wet.
I chuckled and texted back, Side gate. Enter through window. To the guys, I said, "Soul's back and she must be human because she can text. And she's not alone, and she's wet. Oh. And she noted that we have no front door."
"She's clearly got mad powers of observation even when she's a dragon," Alex said. — Faith Hunter

She leaned in and hugged me. "I know. Thanks. I love you, too. And for the record, Cheyenne and Landon are soul mates and if they don't end up together, I want you to find a poltergeist to haunt the Easton Heights writers."
She pulled back, smiling at me, then reaching out to ruffle Lend's hair. "Take care of each other, you two obnoxious kids."
Then, throwing her shoulders back and staring straight forward, she walked through the gate. I watched, dreading seeing her turn into dust or something, but gasped in relief and joy as her ruined, unnaturally preserved body blossomed into something new, something strong and proud and undeniably alive.
She turned back, just once, and although she was nearly unrecognizable, I could see our Arianna in her smile that managed to maintain its trademark ironic twist.
"I'm going to miss her," I said.
"What?" Lend shouted.
"I said, I'm going to miss her!"
"I can't hear you! I'm going to miss her! — Kiersten White

Every soul confined to a concentration camp of sin and guilt has a key to the gate. The adversary cannot hold them if they know how to use it. The key is labeled Repentance. — Boyd K. Packer

Better to sink with tempests raging o'er
Masts all dismantled and hull gaping wide
Than rest and rot on some unclouded shore
The idle plaything of the listless tide.

Better the grime of battle on the brow,
With grim defeat to crush thy dying hand
Than through long years of peace to tyrant bow
Or dwell captive in a strangers land.

Better the castle with beleaguered gate,
By battle's lightning shivered in a day
Than peaceful walls in pomp of sullen state,
Through centuries sinking to a dull decay.

Better resolve to win thy heart's desire,
And striving bravely, die in the endeavor
Than have the embers of some smothered fire
Lie smouldering in thy saddened soul forever. — Sam Davis

No matter, they weren't going anywhere. Never again. Two skeletons buried beneath a dead city. No more fitting a barrow for a warrior of the Apocalypse and a Malazan soldier. That seemed just, poetic even. He would not complain, and when he stood at this sergeant's side at Hood's Gate, he would be proud for the company.So much had changed inside him. He was no believer in causes, not any more. Certainty was an illusion, a lie. Fanaticism was poison in the soul, and the first victim in its inexorable, ever-growing list was compassion. Who could speak of freedom, when one's own soul was bound in chains? — Steven Erikson

Death and his scythe do not come. No sweeping black capes or ethereal escapes. There's no pearly gate, no prisms of colors as his soul slips away. The stillness is cold steel. The silence is empty with no memory to mend it. — Laura Kreitzer

Under a waxing moon--when dead moon awakens--Goddess becomes maiden swelling with light. This is the time of the Mystic East Gate...a time when the magick of Goddess revives. This is the time for new beginnings, new friendships, new powers...a time when a shattered soul may be reborn. — Teresa Joyce Jackson