Quotes About Revelation

to no one did he bare his soul so utterly

Richard decided to play a card he'd had up his sleeve all morning, and he raised his large hand high, his face filled with defiance and malicious intent. He showed the spectators the perfect pentagram he had inked on his palm. Under it was the number 666, the Book of Revelation's number of "the beast," i.e., Satan.

It is as if there is another world just waiting to be discovered if only we can learn to see in a new way. Up until the seventeenth century most people in England took little notice of the prehistoric monuments that littered the land. Viewing them as a nuisance, they often dismantled them to clear fields or to provide building materials. Even so, folklore and stories lingered around many of them

You must, although you know you won't like what you'll see.

Autobiography is an unrivaled vehicle for telling the truth about other people.

I still cannot tap on your walls and discover by the hollow or firm sounds which of your walls are merely decorative, and which ones hold everything up.

Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths.

What are ye orbs? The words of God? the Scriptures of the skies?

Everything was ruined! Pennyroyal didn't just know what she'd done, he'd written a book about it! There were paintings! Even if Pennyroyal had twisted the facts, the truth was still there, in black and white on the pages of his book. Hester Shaw had sold Anchorage to the Huntsmen. And when Tom found out …

Was this what falling in love was like? Not something big and amazing that you knew about straight away, like in a story, but a slow thing that crept over you in waves until you woke up one day and found that you were head-over-heels with someone quite unexpected

To the first class belong the Gospels and Acts to the second, the Epistles to the third, the Revelation.

We find everywhere in this world the traces of a revealed God and of a hidden God; revealed enough to strengthen our faith, concealed enough to try our faith.

John was not a logician, but a seer; not a reasoner, but a mystic; he does not argue, but assert; he arrives at conclusions with one bound, as by direct intuition.

I have found that in fiction one is freer to speak the truth, if only because in fiction the truth is not expected or required. You may easily disguise it, so that it is only recognized much later, when the story and the characters have faded into darkness.

In a nutshell, the Bible from Genesis 3 to Revelation 22 tells the story of a God reckless with desire to get his family back.

Grace is everywhere, like lenses that go unnoticed because you are looking through them.

Imagination pointed toward truth but could not disclose it directly.

I smile when he tells me the story. It's also the first time I've smiled at him. He smiles back at me. It seems as intimate to me, as magnetic, as skin against skin.

A million questions flash through my mind: How did it begin for him? How and at what age did it reveal itself? How is it that no one can see it on him? Yes, how can it be so undetectable? And then: Is it about suffering? Only suffering? And again: Will I be the first? Or were there others before me? Others who were also secret? And: What does he imagine exactly? I don't ask any of these questions, of course. I follow his lead, accepting the rules of the game. He says: I know a place.

I need to say everything before I die, I cannot die carrying this secret, this amazing secret.

A dozen incidents of this kind made everyone realise that the monsters had never left them, that they had simply fallen asleep for a while, and that now their slumbers were over.

El anciano se llama Linh. Es el único que lo sabe, porque el resto de las personas que lo sabían están muertas.

Vä?šina ?udí nemá potuchy o svojich temných stránkach, a predsa ich majú vÅ¡etci. Odhalia ich ?asto okolnosti, vojny, hladomor, revolúcie, genocídy. A ke? sa ?udia po prvý raz v skrytosti svojho vedomia nad nimi zamyslia, z?aknú sa ich a nasko?ia im zimomriavky.

C'est un peu comme les êtres au fond, ceux justement que l'on croise durant des années, mais qu'on ne connaît jamais, et qui se révèlent un jour, sous nos yeux, comme jamais on ne les aurait crus capables d'être.