Quotes About Revelation

The often surprising results of that hunt—that's what I call Big Magic.

It was like one of those dreams where you discover a previously unknown room in your house and you have that expansive feeling that your life has more possibility to it than you thought it did.

Once you introduce truth into a room, the room may never be the same again.

Boris Pasternak described this phenomenon beautifully, when he wrote, "No genuine book has a first page. Like the rustling of the forest, it is begotten God knows where, and it grows and it rolls, arousing the dense wilds of the forest until suddenly . . . it begins to speak with all the treetops at once.

And yet Boehme said that God had pressed Himself into the world, and had left marks there for us to discover.

Of course God already knows what I need. The question is - do I know?

The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them.

Good." He straddled her, caging her with his body. "Were it up to me, all of London would know what we do here. -Griffin to Hero.

Good Lord, His Grace the Ass hiding in the bushes," Apollo muttered. "Whatever are you doing here?" "Ah, Kilbourne, you've regained your voice," Wakefield drawled. "Pity, but I presume my wife is thrilled. And you are?" He looked pointedly at Montgomery.

He was covered, of course, but she knew what lay beneath the sheets- she'd seen him entirely nude at the Lords' revels. She had the image burned into her memory: a proud, thick penis, heavy sac, and curling midnight hair. If the coverlet slipped just a little bit downward, she would see the upper edge of that nest of black hair. The thought made her press her thighs together under her dress. Did he know how his body affected her?

As if she'd merely sleepwalked through everything else in her life prior to his arrival.

He remembered Mrs. Dews' light brown eyes last night. The way they'd closed in bliss when he'd fed her the plum tart… Her emotion was foreign, wild and exciting, and entirely fascinating--and she tried so very hard to hide it. Why? He wanted to spend time with the source of such powerful emotion. Wanted to experiment, poke and prod, see what else made her cheeks flush her breath come fast.

Never before had I known the sudden quiver of understanding that travels from word to brain to heart, the way a new language can move, coil, swim into life under the eyes, the almost savage leap of comprehension, the instantaneous, joyful release of meaning, the way the words shed their printed bodies in a flash of heat and light. Since then I have known this moment

I didn't know how cold I was," she admitted after a time. "You mean that interesting shade of blue isn't lipstick?

truthfully, this is the fabric of all my fantasies: love shown not by a kiss or a wild look or a careful hand but by a willingness for research. i don't dream of someone who understands me immediately, who seems to have known me my entire life, who says, i know me too. i want someone keen to learn my own strange organization, amazed at what's revealed; someone who asks, and then what, and then what?

I didn't know what it was I was feeling. Then I realized it was seeing someone and knowing immediately that you love him.

He read it over twenty times and though the darkness that sang on held steady about him, the unhurried words fell bright through his mind, going down golden through deep water, and when one passed another came, ceaselessly, shining.

One went on and on, never dreaming of the sudden dreadful day when the coverings were going to be dropped and one would see it was death after all, that it had been death all the time, death pretending, death waiting

When she thinks a book is very good, what she says to herself is: yes, that's how things are. I hadn't thought of it before, but that's how things are.

I studied you until I knew you, or at least, the public parts of you: your learning, your passion, the way your voice slows down when you answer a question. I studied your hands, and wondered how they'd touch me; your hair, and how it would smell. I wondered about that and about the rest of you I could not see. I wanted to know you. And I wanted you to know me. I wanted you to see me.

You come from the country?" "You know that." "No," said Theron. "I thought you'd sprung full-grown from the University clock tower.

Today I have gathered together my nearest and dearest, my sixteen nieces and nephews (Sit down, Grace Windsor Wexler!) to view the body of your Uncle Sam for the last time. Tomorrow its ashes will be scattered to the four winds. I, Samuel W. Westing, hereby swear that I did not die of natural causes. My life was taken from me–by one of you!

She looked from his face into the face of the dead man. She knew he was dead. She also knew that the dead speak, often in thunder.

Chroniclers can edit names out as easily as visionaries can noise them abroad.