Quotes About Revelation

Why didn't someone hand those newly sighted people paints and brushes from the start, when they still didn't know what anything was? Then maybe we all could see color-patches too, the world unraveled from reason, Eden before Adam gave names. The scales would drop from my eyes; I'd see trees like men walking; I'd run down the road against all orders, allowing and leaping.

Beauty is not a hoax . . . Come on, I say to the creek, surprise me; and it does, with each new drop. Beauty is real. I would never deny it; the appalling thing is that I forget it (271).

No claims of any and all revelations could be so far-fetched as a single giraffe.

I once spent a full three minutes looking at a bullfrog that was so unexpectedly large I couldn't see it even though a dozen enthusiastic campers were shouting directions. Finally I asked, What color am I looking for? and a fellow said, Green. When at last I picked out the frog, I saw what painters are up against: the thing wasn't green at all, but the color of wet hickory bark. The lover can see, and the knowledgeable.

We live in all we seek. The hidden shows up in too-plain sight. It lives captive on the face of the obvious—the people, events, and things of the day—to which we as sophisticated children have long since become oblivious. What a hideout: Holiness lies spread and borne over the surface of time and stuff like color.

When one of his Hasids complained of God's hiddenness, Rabbi Pinhas said, "It ceases to be a hiding, if you know it is hiding." But it does not cease to hide, not ever, not under any circumstance, for anyone.

I woke in bits, like all children, piecemeal over the years. I discovered myself and the world, and forgot them, and discovered them again. I woke at intervals until, by that September when Father went down the river, the intervals of waking tipped the scales, and I was more often awake than not. I noticed this process of waking, and predicted with terrifying logic that one of these years not far away I would be awake continuously and never slip back, and never be free of myself again.

The girl went through the experience that we all go through and forget, the moment we are born. She saw, but it did not mean anything but a lot of different kinds of brightness.

He thought his heart would kill him, he'd had no clue what it was capable of.

She ran right into his arms and he swung her around like a little kid, laughing, and then they hugged. He thought his heart would kill him, he'd had no clue what it was capable of.

La palabra que Dios nos habla está llena de luz y de vida.

This, I knew, was the magic I had until now been only dimly and spitefully aware of.

Food, it appeared, could be important. It could be an event. It had secrets.

I remember it well, because it was such a slap in the face. It was a wake-up call that food could be important, a challenge to my natural belligerence. By being denied, a door opened.

Gosto de contar a pessoas selecionadas algumas coisas supostamente confidenciais, algumas vezes por semana, só pela piada. Mais tarde, quando essas histórias voltam para mim, fornecem-me um interessante mapa do percurso da transferência de informação, uma ingestão de bário, a revelar quem delata quem.

As pessoas do mundo da restauração podem gostar ou não gostar do que vou contar, mas saberão muito bem que não estarei a mentir.

It's a gaze of wonder: the same look you see on small children's faces when their fathers take them into deep water at the beach, and it's always a beautiful thing. For a moment, or a second, the pinched expressions of the cynical, world-weary, throat-cutting, miserable bastards we've all had to become disappears, when we're confronted with something as simple as a plate of food. When we remember what it was that moved us down this road in the first place.

The genius of a composer is found in the notes of his music; but analyzing the notes will not reveal his genius. The poet's greatness is contained in his words; yet the study of his words will not disclose his inspiration. God reveals himself in creation; but scrutinize creation as minutely as you wish, you will not find God, any more than you will find the soul through careful examination of your body.

When I returned to the bedroom, there was confetti all over the room. I had no idea what had happened until I picked up one of the pieces of confetti. "Oh, shit. That's a nipple. She must have found the pictures," I thought. I was right.

I had no idea you had musical tastes, Nick. Why did you keep them from me all these years? Because I never asked, I suppose. One always finds the answer to everything in one's own egotism.

It was realisation, in a moment of time, not only of her own possibilities, far from inconsiderable ones, but also of other possibilities that life might hold; and my chief emotion was surprise.

Zouch was a superman. A fair English equivalent of the Teutonic ideal of the Übermensch . No one knew this yet except himself. That was because he had not been one long enough for people to find out. They would learn all in good time; and to their cost.

This revelation of Duport's musical leanings showed how, as ever, people can always produce something unexpected about themselves.

This was a glimpse through that mysterious door, once shut, that now seemed to stand ajar. It was as if sounds of far-off conflict, or the muffled din of music and shouting, dimly heard in the past, had now come closer than ever before. Stringham