Quotes About Devotion

I have lost you, Gat, because of how desperately, desperately I fell in love.

Then, half ashamed, hald joyful, she murmured 'O Machine! O Machine' and raised the volume to her lips. Thrice she kissed it, thrice inclined her head, thrice she felt the delirium of acquiescence.

I was yours once till death if you'd cared to keep me

The most dangerous of devotions, in my opinion, is the one endemic to Christianity: I was not born to be of this world. With a second life waiting, suffering can be endured—especially in other people. The natural environment can be used up. Enemies of the faith can be savaged and suicidal martyrdom praised.

Prayer is aligning ourselves with the purposes of God.

Unless you love someone, nothing else makes sense.

Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)

The renewal of the Church will depend on the renewal of our prayer life.

I think you can only be truly mad at someone you really love.— Grace Trevelyan

I hug him tightly. I can't imagine my life without you, Christian. I love you so much it frightens me." Me, too," he breathes. My life would be empty without you. I love you so much.

You wanted hearts and flowers," he murmurs. I blink at him, not quite believing what I'm seeing. You have my heart." And he waves toward the room. And here are the flowers," I whisper, completing his sentence. Christian, it's lovely.

Passion does not blind. No. Passion is sanity, and the woman you love, she is the only person you will ever really understand.

I was determined that in fiction anyway two men should fall in love and remain in it for the ever and ever that fiction allows.

One person with passion is better than forty people merely interested.

You care for me a little bit, I do think," he admitted, "but I can't hang all my life on a little bit. You don't. You hang yours on Anne. You don't worry whether your relation with her is platonic or not, you only know it's big enough to hang a life on.

The second dream is more difficult to convey. Nothing happened. He scarcely saw a face, scarcely heard a voice say, "That is your friend," and then it was over, having filled him with beauty and taught him tenderness. He could die for such a friend, he would allow such a friend to die for him; they would make any sacrifice for each other, and count the world nothing, neither death nor distance nor crossness could part them, because "this is my friend.

When they sat it was nearly always in the same position – Maurice in a chair, and Durham at his feet, leaning against him. In the world of their friends this attracted no notice. Maurice would stroke Durham's hair.

But a lover is dogmatic. To him the world shall be beautiful and pure. When it is not, he ignores it.

An engagement is so potent a thing that sooner or later it reduces all who speak of it to this state of cheerful awe.

Love is the best, and the more she let herself love him, the more chance was there that he would set his soul in order.

Whom does Love concern beyond the beloved and the lover? Yet his impact deluges a hundred shores.

I can give points to a picture, I dare say,' said Maurice, having glanced at the Michelangelo. 'Clive, you're a silly little fool, and since you've brought it up I think you're beautiful, the only beautiful person I've ever seen. I love your voice and everything to do with you, down to your clothes or the room you are sitting in. I adore you.

Clive, és um pateta, e, já que tocaste no assunto, posso dizer-te que te acho muito belo, a única pessoa bela que já vi na vida. Adoro a tua voz e tudo o que tem a ver contigo, até as tuas roupas ou a divisão onde estás sentado. Adoro-te.