Quotes About Revelation

me pregunté si el perdón se manifestaría de esa manera, sin la fanfarria de la revelación, si simplemente el dolor recogería sus cosas, haría las maletas y se esfumaría sin decir nada en mitad de la noche.

Here is another cliché my creative writing teacher would have scoffed at: like father, like son. But it was true, wasn't it? As it turned out, Baba and I were more alike than I'd ever known. We had both betrayed the people who would have given their lives for us.

downpour lashing at her face is becoming heavier and more steady, rippling windows, smearing headlights. Pari has no memory of ever meeting the man, her grandfather, Maman's father, has seen only the one photograph of him reading at his desk, but she doubts that he was the mustache-twirling villain Maman has made him out to be. Pari thinks she sees through this story. She has her own ideas. In her version, he is a man rightfully worried over the well-being of

Kata orang, mata adalah jendela jiwa.

Les yeux sont le miroir de l'âme affirme-t-on. Jamais ce dicton n'a été plus vrai que dans le cas d'Ali, car elle ne pouvait se dévoiler qu'à travers eux.

All my life, I'd been around men. That night, I discovered the tenderness of a woman

People say that eyes are windows to the soul. Never was that more true than with Ali, who could only reveal himself through his eyes. I

me brinda cierto consuelo la idea de un patrón, de un esbozo de mi vida que va cobrando forma, como una fotografía en un cuarto oscuro, una historia que se va desvelando poco a poco y viene a confirmar todo lo bueno que siempre he deseado ver en mí mismo. Ese relato me sostiene.

I envied her. Her secret was out. Spoken. Dealt with.

Spune-i secretul t?u vântului, dar nu te-ntoarce împotriva lui fiindc? le-a spus copacilor.

It was you Nabi, she said in my ear. It was always you. Didn't you know?

But tonight was the night. Chloe and Jake were finally going to tell their parents. Tomorrow, I could be planning my boyfriend's funeral.

Robert Frost said, "No surprise for the writer, no surprise for the reader.

Today I found a twenty in the red-lined pocket of my wool coat. There's no twenty-dollar bill in the red lining of my uterus.

That there were other worlds, invisible, unknown, beyond imagination even, was a revelation to him.

When he reached the desk he handed Caroline a photograph in a dark blue cardboard frame. It was a portrait, black and white, faintly tinted. The woman looking out wore a pale peach sweater. Her hair was gently waved, her eyes a deep shade of blue. Rupert Dean's wife, Emelda, dead now for twenty years. She was te love of my life, he announced to Caroline, his voice so loud that people looked up.

It's a kind of power, isn't it, knowing a secret? But lately I don't like it so much, knowing this. It's not really mine to know, is it?

It was like standing on a threshold, a door in the world that would open into a place you'd never expected to be, a place from which you couldn't return. Welcome or unwelcome, knowledge was something you could never undo.

Double damn. I was a harlot. I was a freaking vampire hussy.

We could've done this anywhere, but I wanted you to see me, to see this, he said, gesturing at the room. I wanted you to know where I come from, what I am under the choices I make.

Why aren't you afraid of me? I've seen my death, and you're not it.

Rache," he said, trying to get into my line of sight. "What more do you need? God to send a telegram? (Jenks)

And L-M-N-O-P is not one letter, but five. It took me forever to figure that out.

I expected it would be the same for me, and I wouldn't show up as a wolf in black tights and a lacy pair of underwear —as amusing as that would be. No way was I going to show them I was a nasty pasty color with freckles.