St Dorothy Quotes & Sayings

My dear man,' said Lymond, 'he was keeping the numbers down. If we hadn't taken precautions the whole of the noble Order of St John would be disporting itself at St Mary's under the delusion that it was earning merit by converting us to the Cross. As it is, another half dozen are due any day. Alec, now you've kept us right, I'd be grateful if you would see if the head of the column knows what the hell it's doing without you. Jerott, it won't help us in an ambush if the rearguard is agonizing silently over Joleta's jeopardized soul. Forget the brat. Remember, we're common, coarse fighting-men, not a heavenly host in our shifts. — Dorothy Dunnett

The guiding mantra for connecting is this: it's just a conversation. — David Sturt

Once a priest told us that no one gets up in the pulpit without promulgating a heresy. He was joking, of course, but what I suppose he meant was the truth was so pure, so holy, that it was hard to emphasize one aspect of the truth without underestimating another, that we did not see things as a whole, but through a glass darkly, as St. Paul said. — Dorothy Day

Gabriel,' said Jerott firmly, 'is now at Birgu, Malta, engaged in a life-and-death struggle for the Grand Mastership of the Order of St John. He is unlikely to spend a large part of his time arranging esoteric disasters for his adversaries. He is far more likely to arrange to kill them stone dead.'

'All right. You go and get killed stone dead on that side of the garden, and I'll stick to this,' said Lymond. — Dorothy Dunnett

Everything in my life boils down to my mother. A tradition, which a lot of people do not know of, is that while I'd give my father the money I earned, anything that was special to me - like an award or an album - would be given to my mother. — Sonu Nigam

To make a deliberate falsification for personal gain is the last, worst depth to which either scholar or artist can descend in work or life.
(Letter to Muriel St. Clare Byrne, 8 September 1935) — Dorothy L. Sayers

We are all called to be saints, St. Paul says, and we might as well get over our bourgeois fear of the name. We might also get used to recognizing the fact that there is some of the saint in all of us. — Dorothy Day

You want money... Okay... Now few dollars... then few... then few... and poof everything is gone. That's call failure! — Deyth Banger

Steven stared at the detective's gun and realized there was no escape. He had an emotional meltdown, letting his true feelings spill out of him. — Amelia Morgan

Mom's new husband was eleven years older than Mom. He had been Mom's boss at the Buick dealership where she'd worked until they were married, and you could see that he was still Mom's boss - the way he spoke to her, not exactly giving orders, never forgetting to say Please but in a tone of voice that meant there was no negotiating. Of — Joyce Carol Oates

I don't bed with children.'

'Rumour says,' said Catherine d'Albon, 'that you did. Or are the Knights of St John all mistaken?'

'You know too much,' said Francis Crawford slowly. 'Shall I amend it? I don't bed with young girls who are virgins, unless they ask me, and unless I am married to them. — Dorothy Dunnett

The opposite of a problem would likely be the correct solution. — Joey Lawsin

Three highballs, and I think I'm St. Francis of Assisi. — Dorothy Parker

You're going to declare a rest period?' asked Jerott. Leisure, with Gabriel there, seemed too good to be true.

'Rumour being what it is, I imagine it will have declared itself by now,' Lymond said. 'Yes. We shall take three days from our labours to relax. Provided Sir Graham understands that by midday tomorrow St Mary's will be empty and all the men at arms and half the officers whoring in Peebles.' In the half-dark you could guess at Gabriel's smile.

'Do you think I don't know human nature?' he said. 'They are bound by no vows. But as they learn to respect you, they will do as you do.'

'That's what we're all afraid of,' said Jerott; and there was a ripple of laughter and a flash of amusement, he saw, from Lymond himself. — Dorothy Dunnett

Everything I've read about Christians in prison for their non-violent witness to Christ rings true. Whether it's St. Paul, St. Edmund Campion, Dorothy Day or Dr. King, the experience remains the same: God comes close to those in prison. God's spirit is unleashed on the person who suffers imprisonment in a spirit of obedient love. God is a God of prisoners, a God of the poor, a God of the oppressed
but most of all, as the life of Jesus testifies, a God of nonviolent resisters. God is a God of nonviolence and peace. — John Dear

I know I'm supposed to be a good girl. I know I'm supposed to be happy doing needlework samplers and baking potatoes in coal and whatnot.
But Lord, I love running from the law. — Saundra Mitchell

And at thirty-eight a brilliant exponent of arms and a knight of the great fighting and religious Order of St John, the Chevalier de Villegagnon had absolutely no use for common sense himself, but respected it in the laity. — Dorothy Dunnett

We were all imitative. We all wandered in after Miss Edna St. Vincent Millay. We were all being dashing and gallant, declaring we weren't virgins, whether we were or not. — Dorothy Parker

Now that we have the pissing contest out of the way, we need information. [Rayna] — M.R. Merrick

It is idle to complain that a society is infringing a moral code intended to make people behave like St. Francis of Assisi if the society retorts that it does not wish to behave like St. Francis, and considers it more natural and right to behave like the Emperor Caligula. When there is a genuine conflict of opinion, it is necessary to go behind the moral code and appeal to the natural law - to prove, that is, at the bar of experience, that St. Francis does in fact enjoy a freer truth to essential human nature than Caligula, and that a society of Caligulas is more likely to end in catastrophe than a society of Franciscans. — Dorothy L. Sayers

A true leader cannot be dependent on companionship for his or her security, but must learn to trust in God alone. — Eric Ludy

All of our children are prey. How do we raise them not to prey upon themselves and each other? And this is why we cannot be silent, because our silences will come to testify against us out of the mouths of our children. — Audre Lorde

The banks of the Thirty-Foot held, but the swollen Wale, receiving the full force of the Upper Waters and the spring tide, gave at every point. Before the cars reached St. Paul, the flood was rising and pursuing them. Wimsey's car
the last to start
was submerged to the axles. They fled through the dusk, and behind and on their left, the great silver sheet of water spread and spread. — Dorothy L. Sayers

Writing is how I process the cacophony of each day. Prayer is how God makes sense out of my scribbles. — Donna Pyle

But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure. — Kahlil Gibran

I find time to write the way kids find time to ride their bikes. — Masiela Lusha

And what do the Theban hoplites see in this extended rending of the sky, this white-bright glory of Enlil's lightning? The future, but not theirs: paired cavalry fighters; formed ranks of armored death; grim men on their tall horses with lightning limning weapons tailored to the task; men spoiling for a fight if the gods allowed - the Sacred Band of Stepsons, out from shadows and the dark. — Janet Morris

Context is everything. - Prof Nick Fennimore — A.D. Garrett

When Philippa had first demanded his help in eluding Kate and travelling to St Mary's, he had indignantly refused. He was there now because he had discovered, to his astonishment, that she was desperate, and perfectly capable of going without him. Why she had got it into her young head she must see this man Crawford, Cheese-wame didn't know. But after pointing out bitterly that (a) he would lose his job; (b) the rogues in the Debatable would kill them, (c) that she would catch her death of cold and (d) that Kate would never speak to either of them again, he went, his belt filled with knives and her belongings as well as his own in the two saddlebags behind his powerful thighs, while Philippa rode sedately beside him on her smaller horse, green with excitement, with her father's pistol tied to her waist like a ship's log and banging against her thin knees. — Dorothy Dunnett