Quotes About Saint

Lucien vit le Palais dans toute sa beauté primitive. La colonnade fut svelte, jeune, fraîche. La demeure de saint Louis reparut telle qu'elle fut, il en admirait les proportions babyloniennes et les fantaisies orientales. Il accepta cette vue sublime comme un poétique adieu de la création civilisée.

A saint is anyone beloved by God and who knows it.

One of the great Sufis said: 'A saint is a saint unless he knows that he is one.

Uno de los grandes Sufis dijo: "Un santo es un santo a menos que sepa que lo es".

My mom was a saint. She taught me to be terminally nice.

Sun-boy was acting out religion before the age of space. He chorused hymns, he lifted his eyes and his hands and his piece of the congohelium to the sun; he played the rattle of whirling dervishes, the temple bells of the Man on the Two Pieces of Wood and the other temple bells of that saint who had escaped time simply by seeing it and stepping out of it. Buddha, was that his name?

Telling an introvert to go to a party is like telling a saint to go to Hell.

The raid had been about me. The trustees of Blok wanted me back. Veego and LaBerge wanted me back. Saint Dane wanted me back. I was a popular guy.

Listen, my little watering pot, it was in my cousin's nature to do something rash at any given moment. It always would have been. The reckless streak in the Ravenel family has persevered for centuries. Theo could have married a saint, and he would have lost his temper regardless." "I'm certainly not a saint," she said woefully, ducking her head. Amusement rustled through his voice. "I knew that within the first minute of meeting you.

There are Mornings" Even now, when the plot calls for me to turn to stone, the sun intervenes. Some mornings in summer, I step outside and the sky opens and pours itself into me as if I were a saint about to die. But the plot calls for me to live, be ordinary, say nothing to anyone. Inside the house, the mirrors burn when I pass.

The perfect mystic is not an ecstatic devotee lost in contemplation of Oneness, nor a saintly recluse shunning all commerce with mankind, but "the true saint" goes in and out amongst the people and eats and sleeps with them and buys and sells in the market and marries and takes part in social intercourse, and never forgets God for a single moment. – Abu Said ibn Abi al-Khair

One of the attributes of the saint is that he has no fear, for fear is anticipating some disagreeable event that might come or expecting that something beloved might pass away in the future. The saint is concerned only with the present moment. He has no future to fear.

But I do like the church. I like the smell of polished wood and incense. I like the colored window glass and the statue of Saint Francis. Reynaud says Saint Francis is the patron saint of animals, who left his life to live in the woods. I'd like to do that. I'd build myself a house in a tree, and live on nuts and strawberries. Maman and I never go to church. Once, that might have caused trouble. But Reynaud says we don't have to go. Reynaud says God sees us, and cares for us, wherever we are.

Skepticism? Yes, but a saint is a skeptic once in twenty-four hours.

A saint likes to be told what he is, but a sinner is a bit touchy.

Advance our standards, set upon our foes; Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!

A pig resembles a saint in that he is more honored after death than during his lifetime.

Insane, he says simply. Hopeless. The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son his a devil and should not.

And it seems to me that there is nothing more likely to cure a woman of lust than marriage. Now I understand what the saint meant when he said that it was better to marry than to burn. In my experience, if you marry, you certainly won't burn.

The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.

All the people speak of a hero like a ghost or a sleeping saint, or a pretender. It would almost make you believe that there is an heir of York hidden out in the hills, a king waiting for the call to battle, sleeping like the true Arthur of England, ready to rise. People love to dream, so how should anyone contradict them?

Saint Claire, the patron saint of the kick-me sign.

Perhaps one day I'd be made a saint—the patron saint of fools and lovers, if those terms were not exactly the same.

Sonrió, y fue totalmente Shane – afilado pero extrañamente dulce. - Claire, acabo de salir de la cárcel. ¿Realmente crees que trato de ser un santo o algo?