Quotes About Saints

His purpose was not just to make us safe but to make us saints.

Many saints were made out of passionate sinners—the angry, the hating, the lustful, the cynical; but none were ever made out of the slothful.

When we use the prayers of the Church, we use the greatest prayers ever written, the words and sentiments of great saints and hymn writers and liturgists. We do this rightly, because God deserves the best, and these prayers are the best. They were composed by other people, but we make them our own when we pray them, like a lover reciting a sonnet by Shakespeare to his beloved. It is Shakespeare's gift: Shakespeare gave it to him, and now he gives it to his beloved.

Even saints do not smile sweetly when God throws them into mud puddles. Only pigs do that.

nothing else can ever cure our sick world except saints, and saints are never made except by prayer.

The world thinks men are good and saints are better. Pascal knows men are sinners and saints are miracles.

God's Spirit is most powerfully at work in us during emotional troughs, the "dry" times, not the "high" times. All the saints teach that. When the aid of feelings is removed, we can move forward only by heroic effort of our will. This

The most real human persons are saints. They are what we are all designed to be.

For Socrates, there are only two kinds of people: the wise, who know they are fools; and fools, who think they are wise. Similarly, for Christ and all the prophets, there are only two kinds of people: saints, who know they are sinners; and sinners, who think they are saints.

These windows were dedicated to the patron saints of the guilds and often showed the donors at work: furriers displaying a fur robe, money-changers testing their coin, butchers killing oxen. Even the common laborers, who somehow managed to pool their meager resources, donated a window, which was dedicated to Adam, "who first dug the earth by the sweat of his brow."5

For those of us fascinated with the spiritual quest, the deepening of our journeys begins the moment we begin to ask what is sacred to us: architecture, history, music, books, nature, food, religious heritage, family history, the lives of saints, scholars, heroes, artists?

The idea of Saint Paul whirling around in the giant teacups wile composing First Corinthians, as Paris TV films him with a telephoto lens—that just can't be. Saint Paul would never go near Disneyland. Only children, tourists, and visiting Soviet high officials ever go to Disneyland. Saints do not.

When we were alive, they told us that when we died we'd go to heaven. And they said that heaven was a place of joy and glory and we would spend eternity in the company of saints and angels praising the Almighty, in a state of bliss. That's what they said. And that's what led some of us to give our lives, and others to spend years in solitary prayer, while all the joy of life was going to waste around us, and we never knew.

?i sfinÈ›ii sau înÈ›elepÈ›ii de odinioar?, È™i cercet?torii de azi ai fenomenelor metapsihice, toÈ›i cei care au meditat asupra sufletului È™i-au manifestat în general respectul pentru cel al fiinÈ›ei umane È™i au desconsiderat celelalte animale È™i plantele. De mii de ani înaint?m orbeÈ™te doar în direcÈ›ia c?ut?rii diferenÈ›elor de tot felul dintre om È™i lumea natural?.

One of the peculiar traits of Egyptian culture and belief is, surprisingly enough, an obsession with the idea of eternal progression,147 another nomad heritage. The saints, das wandernde Gottesvolk, have always been drawn to distant horizons and spurned "this present world" as altogether too confining.148 The passage from world to world and from horizon to horizon was dramatized in the ordinances of the temple, which itself represented a horizon.

When I enter that beautiful city, And the saints all around me appear, I hope that someone will tell me: it was you who invited me here.

This unholy masquerade when reality does fade, the imprint of the God on our mortal-stained facade. Saints and spirits strip the earth of the straining hope of birth. "Kill the hope with grasping grave," cries the earthly mortal slave.

Daniel? Daniel...of what use are the bones of saints? Of what great interest to me are their dusted stories of day?" I stand at a dreadful distance. He speaks, "Silent stones of granite hue; enveloped now in sacred dew. Speak somber words of restless hope... of resurrection." I hear the hushings of the wind in a rhythmic silence, and turn to see a friar's lantern on a distant ridge.

I am very proud of The Saints and I'm very glad that I've been associated with them all these years, but the next record is the best record... has to be the philosophy for any band that remains even halfway decent or vibrant, and that is kind of where my head's at.

The spell is broke; the charm is flown! Thus is it with life's fitful fever: We madly smile when we should groan: Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought Recalls the woes of Nature's charter; And he that acts as wise men ought, But lives, as saints have died, a martyr.

Harry waxes poetic about magic. He'll go on and on about how it comes from your feelings, and how it's a deep statement about the nature of your soul, and then he'll whip out some kind of half-divine, half-insane philosophy he's cobbled together from the words of saints and comic books about the importance of handling power responsibly.

Vendo sogni, piccoli comfort, tentazioni dolci e innocue per far scendere una schiera di santi che precipitano uno dopo l'altro tra le nocciole e i torroncini...

There's a reason why saints are martyred. Nobody can stand them.

Don't worship saints or sinners, for both demand your soul, and each man's soul should be his own.