Quotes About Parish

Parishes must be the safest places for a child to be.

I once saw my mother playing Mary Magdalene in a parish event. But she had to put the role aside in order to go and front the choir who were singing at the same occasion. She left the stage halfway through the Crucifixion.

My brothers went to the parish school, one of the best in the county.

I remember in one parish a terrible row over the ideal size of mince pies, and in another two great ladies dashing trays of pancakes to the vicarage floor in a controversy over whether to roll or to fold. But the real arena for food combat is television.

The pastor of a parish will typically have no education in the chant or in music, and he will hire the first music director who walks through the door.

Every art is a church without communicants, presided over by a parish of the respectable. An artist is born kneeling; he fights to stand. A critic, by nature of the judgment seat, is born sitting.

A small parish is a fragile ecology.

As worthless as guilt was known to be, he couldn't help feeling it, seeing his wife work herself to exhaustion for a parish tea that would last only two hours.

I regret the immaturity with which I approached the problems and tasks of the ministry but I do not regret the years devoted to the parish.

Et la guilde de la paroisse acceptera de payer la petite tour courtaude dont accouchera Elfric ?

el alma de su madre, que por no tener ni un real viajaba con lo puesto al más allá. Aun así, había que estar agradecidos al párroco,

see a little village a mile ahead of us with a venerable church on a mound in the middle of it gravely presiding over the surrounding wide parish of corn.

Then perhaps you should consider that Samuel's presence might very well be a perfect opportunity to put into practice some of the principles to which this school, and this parish, give lip service—to love one another and to display compassion to those who are different.

Once in my childhood I had been eager to learn Irish; I thought to get leave to take lessons from an old Scripture-reader who spent a part of his time in the parish of Killinane, teaching such scholars as he could find to read their own language in the hope that they might turn to the only book then being printed in Irish, the Bible.

You were part of a parish life. It was a great community to grow up in. I just was impressed by our parish priests. After a while, I began to think maybe I could do that.

When they reached Fairhaven, Jubal rushed out to collect her. "I knew you shouldn't have gone to that ole trial, Miss Emma," fussed Jubal. "I tried to tell Mr. Steven that. You's makin' a baby, you can't go gallivantin' all over the parish—" Emma might have smiled if her husband hadn't been accused of a murder he didn't commit. As it was, she just let Jubal prattle. She

Jane Francklyne, born in 1565, had lived for less than a month. She left very little behind. She was buried in the Ecton churchyard, but her father would hardly have paid a carver to engrave so small a stone. If not for the parish register, there would be no record that this Jane Francklyne had ever lived at all. History is what is written and can be found; what isn't saved is lost, sunken and rotted, eaten by the earth.

I look upon the whole world as my parish.

Sunday afternoons at a parish center - or a community center - is familiar territory for me.

She never saw it again. Day and night the river flows down into England, day after day the sun retreats into the Welsh mountains, and the tower chimes: 'See the Conquering Hero.' But the Wilcoxes have no part in the place, nor in any place. It is not their names that recur in the parish register. It is not their ghosts that sigh among the alders at evening. They have swept into the valley and swept out of it, leaving a little dust and a little money behind.

Father Jude frowned into the blond sky. He was well thought of in his parish, calm and good. Things had been going smoothly down in Argus. He'd had a comfortable routine figured out. And now, what an unwelcome complication, in spite of the huge honor, to be afflicted with so many new problems, uncertainties, even doubts. And how terrifying, this feeling of loving someone. Thrilling. Awful.

Nisbet recognized that communities that serve important social functions in our lives, such as families and parishes and social clubs, give structure to our day-to-day living, and thus contribute to our identity. But when the functions of these communities fade or are replaced, such as by the government, their strength as identity-forming institutions fades as well.

Should he make a note? He felt for the smooth shape of his pen in his pocket. 'Theme for a novel: The contrary pull ... " No. If this notion were real, he needn't make a note. A notion on which a note had to be made would be stillborn anyway, his notebook was a parish register of such, born and dead on the same page. Let it live if it can. ("Novelty")

John Newton, the repentant former slaver, preached the gospel in his parish of Olney; created the Eclectic Society, whose members asked questions like "What is the best way of propagating the Gospel in the East Indies?"; and penned the famous lyrics of "Amazing Grace": "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.