Quotes About Surrender

La renuncia no quita. La renuncia da. Da la fuerza inagotable de lo sencillo. El aliento (del camino de campo) hace morar en un largo origen.

One's dignity may be assaulted, vandalized, cruelly mocked, but it an never be taken away unless it is surrendered.

Sometimes love was to be grasped in any form and in any manner it was offered. And sometimes love must be given in the same way.

The only thing you can neither plan nor control, my dearest love, the duke had once told her, is love itself. When you find it, you must yield to it. But only if it is the one and only true passion of your life. Never if it is anything less than that, or life will consume you. But how am I to know? She had asked him. You will know.

Leave love to take its course.

It's less a matter of looking the other way than of closing our eyes to what we can't stop from happening.

When it is recalled that until the Christian era the underworld was never regardded as a hostile area, that all gods were useful and essentially friendly to man despite occasional lapsesl when we see the steady methodical inculcation into humanity of the idea of man's worthlesseness - until redeemed - the necessity of the Devil may become evident as a weapon, a weapon designed and used time and time again in every age to whip men into a surrender to a particular church or church state.

Instead of a river, God often gives us a brook, which may be running today and dried up tomorrow. Why? To teach us not to rest in our blessings, but in the blesser Himself.

Says Andrew Murray: Fasting helps to express, to deepen, and to confirm the resolution that we are ready to sacrifice anything, to sacrifice ourselves to attain what we seek for the kingdom of God.1

They looked at each other. They weren't thinking anymore. The time for that had come and gone. Smashed smiles lay ahead of them. But that would be later. Lay Ter.

Margaret Kochamma's tiny, ordered life relinquished itself to this truly baroque bedlam with the quiet gasp of a warm body entering a chilly sea.

Lose your dreams and you Will lose your mind.

A war that we have won and lost. The very worst sort of war. A war that captures dreams and re-dreams them. A war that has made us adore our conquerors and despise ourselves.

Our freedoms were not granted to us by any governments. They were wrested from them by us. And once we surrender them, the battle to retrieve them is called a revolution.

Olhos nublados fixaram olhos nublados e uma mulher luminosa abriu-se para um homem luminoso. Ela era ampla e profunda como um rio na cheia. Ele singrou suas águas. Ela sentia os movimentos dele mais e mais fundos dentro dela. Frenéticos. Furiosos. Pedindo para entrar mais fundo, Mais fundo. Limitados apenas pela forma dela. Pela forma dele. E quando foi detido, quando já tinha tocado o mais fundo dela, com um suspiro soluçado, trêmulo, ele se afogou.

There was no tour guide on hand to tell her that in Kashmir nightmares were promiscuous. That they were unfaithful to their owners, they cartwheeled wantonly into other people's dreams, they acknowledged no precincts, they were the greatest ambush artists of all. No fortification, no fence-building could keep them in check. In Kashmir the only thing to do with nightmares was to embrace them like old friends and manage them like old enemies.

And in a war that you cannot win, you don't want a general who fights to the point of total annihilation. You don't want Custer. You want Robert E. Lee, someone who knows how to fight for territory that can be won and how to surrender it when it can't, someone who understands that the damage is greatest if all you do is battle to the bitter end.

you live longer only when you stop trying to live longer.

Goodman insisted there was nothing to be done.

Always in the middle of our bloodiest battles you lay down your arms like flowering mines to conqueror me home.

As the light wanes I see what I thought I was anxious to surrender I am only willing to lend

And I knew when I entered her I was high wind in her forests hollow fingers whispering sound honey flowed from the split cup impaled on a lance of tongues on the tips of her breasts on her navel and my breath howling into her entrances through lungs of pain.

But fear and anxiety are not the same at all. One is an appropriate response to a real situation which I can accept and learn to work through just as I work through semi-blindness. But the other, anxiety, is an immobilizing yield to things that go bump in the night, a surrender to namelessness, formlessness, voicelessness, and silence.

But unfortunately, I am a man, and there is nothing for me to do but, like a Roman, fold my arms across my breast and hold my breath till I die. DOCTOR.