Quotes About Flesh

God's best is for the believer to take His Word that says he is healed, put that Word in his heart, confess it with his lips, and allow it to be medicine to his flesh.

This God who, as the psalmist said, built His tabernacles in the sun, now establishes Himself in the very core of the flesh and the blood.

God created our souls to be satisfied only with the divine everlastingness of the Word made flesh.

If Jesus is the Son of God in human flesh, He's one of a kind of the 13 billions of people who have ever lived.

God himself took this human flesh upon him.

Christ was either the grandest, guiltiest of impostors, by a marvelous and most subtle refinement of wickedness, or He was God manifest in the flesh.

Our need is so desperate an idea, a thing, a law can't help us. It took one thing, the gift of gifts, God in the flesh, to rescue us.

The dust to which this flesh shall return, it is the ancient dreaming dust of God.

You strive to have a good heart. But what is a heart? Just a chunk of flesh that a dog can eat.

All good things Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps soul!

Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow.

Present joys are more to flesh and blood Than a dull prospect of a distant good.

In health the flesh is graced, the holy enters the world.

That is why the center of our faith isn't just a book, but a history of Salvation, and above all, it's about a person: Jesus Christ, the Word of God made flesh.

The body is the soul's poor house or home, whose ribs the laths are and whose flesh the loam.

I can smell burning flesh... and I hope to God it's human.

Poverty calls us to sow hope.... Poverty is the flesh of the poor Jesus, in that child who is hungry, in the one who is sick, in those unjust social structures.

The mystery of the humanity of Christ, that he sunk himself into our flesh, is beyond all human understanding.

Our flesh is a gift of laughter.

Beauty is equal parts flesh and imagination: we imbue it with our dreams, saturate it with our longings.

There seems to be no unexpressed self in animals, as if they are as fully themselves in flesh as possible, with no lag of consciousness to fill up, while we keep trying to grow into something else.

As the blood poured from his tattered heart into the open air and his brain suffocated, all those incomplete thoughts of Wittgenstein decayed with the dying neurons. Neural connections in the gray matter storing memories and ideas in their ordered configurations fired across the gaps, last gaps of mental life. Thoughts on Truth and Will were erased as flesh sloshed soft and limp against alabaster, no more than rotting human fruit.

i will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery with chasteness of sea-girls Will i complete the mystery of my flesh I will rise After a thousand years lipping flowers And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

never boast your dead beauties, mine being unto me sweeter (of whose shy delicious glance things which never more shall be, perfect things of faerie, are intense inhabitants; in whose warm superlative body do distinctly live all sweet cities passed away— in her flesh at break of day are the smells of Nineveh, in her eyes when day is gone are the cries of Babylon.)