Quotes About Devotion

God, why does a mortal man have children? It is senseless to love anything this much.

She would die of him or be cured.

But other people fast or walk long pilgrimages to honor the spirit of what they believe makes our world whole and lovely. If we gardeners can, in the same spirit, put our heels to the shovel, kneel before a trench holding tender roots, and then wait three years for an edible incarnation of the spring equinox, who's to make the call between ridiculous and reverent?

But from here on in I'm your Ma, and that means I love you the most. Forever

Moths must fly to his flame and perish gladly.

that thing of being loved automatically, Jesus on your side.

Jesus was a more reliable backer, evidently, less likely to drink himself unconscious or get liver cancer. No wonder people chose Him as their number-one friend.

It's football. Take that out of high school, it's church with no Jesus. Who would even go?

For my part, I merely watched young, deprived female bosoms panting before my handsome husband, soldier of the Lord. (I longed to shout: Go ahead and try him, girls, I am too tired!)

Remy, my third husband, was very devoted. He was an older man. My life has been 101 Calamities with at least half of them in the marriage department, but finally I got lucky in love, with Remy Fairley. He at least had the decency to die and leave me the Equatorial... the nicest hotel for business men

To my first love, my only love." "To my greatest love," he answered, clinking his flute to hers, happiness flooding

She was sitting at a table in a cafe and he had just left. What she has understood, with absolute certainty, was that to live without him would be, forever, her fundamental occupation and that from that moment on things would always have a shadow for her, an extra shadow, even in the dark, and maybe especially in the dark. She wondered if that might work as an explanation of what it means to be mad about someone.

Tatsu was true samurai, and would continue serving the same master no matter how many times that master ignored or even abused him. Devoted service was the highest end he knew. It

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light; I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

His gal had thrown down, and he was going to follow her wherever that led.

there are qualities of devotion, and celebration, and meditation, qualities that are necessary concomitants to a life worth living. Ginza-yu

It's a strange thing, having a child," he said. "It completely alters your most fundamental priorities. When my eldest daughter was born, I realized I would do anything—anything—to protect her. If I had to set myself on fire to save her from something, I would do it with the utmost relief and gratitude. It's quite a thing, quite a privilege, to care about someone so much that the measure of the worth of your own life is changed by it.

But, like all indulgences that are valued not just for their product but for their process, the sento will never entirely disappear. For in the unhurried rituals of scrubbing and soaking, and in the perspective of profound relaxation that can only be derived from immersion in water the meek might describe as scalding, there are qualities of devotion, and celebration, and meditation, qualities that are necessary concomitants to a life worth living.

if I was truly committed to God, I also had to be fully committed to the truth.

Religion was all about the proper practices:

He bought her six dresses, and I brought her god-damned cat back from the dead, so who loves her more?!

Aye. Would'ee speak a word of prayer first, Roland? To whatever God thee holds?" "I hold to no God," Roland said. "I hold to the Tower, and won't pray to that.

It was a cliché, but for all-weather company, you couldn't do better than a dog. Couldn't do better than a dog, period. Dogs didn't know any better; they just made the best of it.

Annie Wilkes was the perfect audience, a woman who loved stories without having the slightest interest in the mechanics of making them. She was the embodiment of that Victorian archetype, Constant Reader.