Quotes About Ritual

Habit is everything, even in love.

When you learn to love your physical body, every activity can become a ritual of gratitude where you fully express the joy to be alive!

I'm Catholic and Mum taught me the comfort that you can get from going to church. But I'm an a la carte Catholic. I love all the pomp and ceremony of it.

I love the hour in makeup. It gives you time to think and have a cup of coffee. It's my favorite part of the day.

Roger picks up a sachet of sugar and shakes it as if it's in need of discipline: wap-wap-wap-wap.

Different from Zuleika, he cared for his wardrobe and his toilet-table not as a means to making others admire him the more, but merely as a means through which he could intensify, a ritual in which to express and realise, his own idolatry.

Mr. President," said The MacQuern, "I present Mr. Trent-Garby, of Christ Church." "The Junta is honoured," said the Duke, bowing. Such was the ritual of the club.

The right heart with the wrong ritual is better than the wrong heart with the right ritual. Some

The Lord's Supper is a gift to you. The Lord's Supper is a sacrament,4 not a sacrifice.5

There is a mystical rite under the material act of cleaning and tidying, for what is done with love is always more than itself and partakes of the celestial orders

Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleeve to peer into my eyes while I within deny their threats and answer them with lies. Mushlike memories perform a ritual on my lips I lie in stolid hopelessness and they lay my soul in strips.

Then Revered Thomas would being. Blessed Father, we thank you this morning... and on and on and on. I'd stop listening after a while until Bailey kicked me and then I cracked my lids to see what had promised to be a meal that would make any Sunday proud. But as the Reverend droned on and on and on to a God who I though must be bored to hear the same things over and over again, I saw that the ham grease had turned white on the tomatoes.

When religious ritual is not perfumed By the incense of burning flesh

Have a slice of orange—traditionally

Grief is paradoxical: you know you must let go, and yet letting go cannot happen all at once. The literature of mourning enacts that dilemma; its solace lies in the ritual of remembering the dead and then saying, There is no solace, and also, This has been going on a long time.

A funeral was a thing they understood; dissent was something they did not.

I gotta ask you...why do you always circle before you lie down? I said. As opposed to what? Johnny Depp asked, astonished by the question. You mean not circle? How would I tamp down the leaves and twigs and get comfortable? What leaves and twigs? I said. This bed is twig-free. Hmm. I see your point, said Johnny Depp, pausing for a second before he resumed circling. But did it occur to you maybe that's because I circle first?

Drear ritual turned its wheel. The ferment of the heart, within these walls, was mocked by every length of sleeping shadow. The passions, no greater than candle flames, flickered in Time's yawn, for Gormenghast, huge and adumbrate, out-crumbles all.

Rottcodd was unmarried. An aloofness and even a nervousness was apparent on first acquaintance and the ladies held a peculiar horror for him. His, then, was an ideal existence, living alone day and night in a long loft. Yet occasionally, for one reason or another, a servant or a member of the household would make an unexpected appearance and startle him with some question appertaining to ritual, and then the dust would settle once more in the hall and on the soul of Mr. Rottcodd.

The mutual practice of giving and receiving is an everyday ritual when we know true love.

Giving is the way we also learn how to receive. The mutual practice of giving and receiving is an everyday ritual when we know true love. A generous heart is always open, always ready to receive our going and coming. In the midst of such love we need never fear abandonment. This is the most precious gift true love offers -- the experience of knowing we always belong.

Shaving is a way to start the workday by ritually not cutting your throat when you've the chance.

Just the usual formality before the chaos begins. Like playing the National Anthem before a Cubs game.

You do know what happens at Easter!" Ceolnoth demanded sternly. "Of course I know," I said, "we make babies." "That is the most ridiculous..." Ceolberht began to protest, then went silent when his brother glared at him. "It's my favourite feast," I continued happily. "Easter is baby-making day!