Quotes About Devotion

Only love can last.

Family is everything. Family comes first. It's not what I expected it to be, but nothing ever is.

Mothers are the people who love us for no good reason. And those of us who are mothers know it's the most exquisite love of all.

He could still be her knight. But that was it. She would not love someone who had no faith in her.

To devote yourself to someone else's pussy can be a means of devoting yourself to your own.

And what kind of madness is it anyway, to be in love with something constitutionally incapable of loving you back? 37. Are you sure -- one would like to ask -- that it cannot love you back?

I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time when I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world.

two Christian princesses who were pursued by undesirable pagan lovers—lovers who professed to be unable to live without their beloveds' beautiful blue eyes. To rid herself of the unwanted attention, Medana supposedly plucked her eyes out and threw them at her suitor's feet; Triduana was slightly more inventive, and tore hers out with a thorn, then sent them to her suitor on a skewer.

If she was liquid, she would drink her; if she was a gas, she would breathe her; if she was a pill, she would down her'; if she was a dress, she would wear her; a plate, she would lick her clean.

Why would she ever want to behold anything else, when she could be taking in the sight of Susanna's ears, like the pale folds of roses, the winglike sweep of her tiny eyebrows, the dark hair, which clings to her crown as if painted there with a brush? There is nothing more exquisite to her than her child: the world could not possibly contain a more perfect being, anywhere, ever.

She would try anything, she would do anything. She would open her own veins, her own body cavity, and give him her blood, her heart, her organs, if it would do the slightest good.

He breathes in. He breathes out. He turns his head and breathes into the whorls of her ear; he breathes in his strength, his health, his all. You will stay, is what he whispers, and I will go. He sends these words into her: I want you to take my life. It shall be yours. I give it to you.

To walk by his grave every Sunday is both a pain and a pleasure. She wants to lie there so that her body covers it. She wants to dig down with her bare hands. She wants to strike it with a tree branch. She wants to build a structure over it, to shield it from the wind and the rain. Perhaps she would come to live in it, there, with him.

Evening, and morning, and at noon will I pray, and cry aloud: and he shall hear my voice. —Psalm 55:17

Dal … Dal …" Mindlessly, she whispered his name as his kisses deepened and became possessive and deliberate. But slow. Exploring. Teasing. Never quite enough. Kisses that drank desire from her mouth and left her frantic with wanting, wanting, wanting.

I love you Utanapishtim. Ziasudra. And if I die tonight, my only regret will be that we didn't have more time together. And if I die a thousand years from now, my only regret will be exactly the same. I love you, I love you. I love you

Grace," I said, very softly. Say something." Sam," she said, and I crushed her to me.

I hope to bring people to God with my songs.

It is the quality of our work which will please God and not the quantity.

We don't fast to earn something; we fast to make a connection with our supernatural God. We are cleaning out the "pipe" that connects us to the anointing of God.

Je m'étonne/ De ceux qui, connaissant l'amour, aiment encore!

Please take your time. I want you to kill me slowly so I can write my last poem to my wife's heart. They laughed, and took from me only the words dedicated to my wife's heart.

They asked 'do you love her to death?' I said 'speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.

They asked, "do you love her to death?" I said, "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.