Quotes About Revelation

For one second I stared at her like all the others as something that had dropped out of nowhere: She was no longer a number, she was simply a person; she existed as nothing more than the metaphysical substance of the insult committed against OneState. But then some one of her movements-turning, she twisted her hips to the left-and all at once I knew: I know her, I know that body resilient as a ship-my eyes, my lips, my hands know it-in one moment I was absolutely sure of it.

Dicen que hay unas flores que sólo se abren y florecen cada cien años. Y ¿por qué no han de haber otras que florezcan una vez cada mil e incluso cada diez mil años? Quizá no lo hayamos sabido por la simple razón de que este «una vez cada mil años» acontece precisamente hoy.

Who knows who you really are? A person is like a novel: Up to the very last page you don't know how it's going to end. Otherwise, there'd be no point in reading....

Gün ?????. Anlatt?klar?m?n, düÅŸündüklerimin hiçbiri yitip gitmedi; sadece gün ?????yla örtüldü. T?pk? nesnelerin geceleri yitip gitmemesi, sadece karanl?kla örtülmesi gibi...

She was looking down at something; her eyes were lowered, like blinds. I thought suddenly of how you walk along the avenue around 22:00 hours, and among the brightly lit cages there are some dark ones, with the blinds lowered...What was going on there in her head, behind her blinds? ... Then she raised the blinds, looked up...

They say there are flowers that bloom only once in a hundred years. Why not suppose the existence of flowers that bloom only once a thousand years? We may have known nothing about them until now only because today is the "once in a thousand years"?

Yesterday was to me like the paper through which chemists filter their solutions: all suspended particles, all that is superfluous remains on this paper. And this morning I went downstairs freshly distilled, transparent.

Is truth always positive? Of course. Once the truth comes out, you know, it's all right. We're scared that if the truth comes out that it's not all right. It's the other way around.

The fact is that man's mind is limited, and his understanding only partial. The biblical narrative makes this point unequivocally with respect to Moses, in reporting that he could not see God's face, but only his back.59 And it was no less true of the other prophets of Israel, who saw things in different ways because each of them was limited in his understanding, and to his own point of vantage.60

The Lord in founding this work did not ask the opinion of the world as to what they thought of this, that, or the other.

I'm trying to get far away from [picturing God as] Gandalf or Santa Claus.

The arrival of the unforeseen reveals the depths of one's heart.

The process in which a writer is compelled to counterfeit his true feelings is exactly the opposite of that which the man of society is compelled to counterfeit his. The artist disguises in order to reveal; the man of society disguises in order to conceal

A dead body reminds me a bit of a bottle of whisky. If you drop the bottle and it cracks, what's inside pours out. It's only natural.

I hope that I am making myself understood. The Golden Temple once more appeared before me. Or rather, I should say that the breast was transformed into the Golden Temple.

The skinned neck, draped gracefully on the floor, seemed to be wearing a cat mask. The cat was only an exterior, life had posed as a cat.

Quando tentano di esprimere la verità, le parole balbettano sempre in questo modo. Mi pare quasi di vederle annaspare. Non per vergogna, né per paura, ma perché è inevitabile che la nuda verità provochi un simile balbettare, espressione di una sua certa rozza natura.

People tend to be most terrified by the inexplicable. Fear seems to fade when a possible solution arises.

echoing John the Baptist's cry: 'the kingdom of heaven is near' (Matthew 3:

With women the best part is the discovery. There's nothing like the first time, nothing. You don't know what life is until you undress a woman the first time. A button at a time, like peeling a hot sweet potato on a winter's night.

Ever since he repented of religion and shaved off his clerical beard and mustache, he has had the constant feeling that he has taken off his trousers, and that his nose protrudes altogether indecently and must at all cost be covered.

The myth about the angel who rebelled against his Lord is the most beautiful of all myths, the proudest, the most revolutionary, the most immortal of them all.

One day, someone will walk into your life and make you see why it never worked out with anyone else.

The blindness I mean is blindness that keeps you from seein' the truth.