Quotes About World

Of course, it's about faith—faith that this is God's world and we're God's children. How could it not be about faith? I think if one truly loves God with all one's heart, then one has to love everybody else. It's not a choice. And you don't love them because it scores you points with God. You love them because you are trying to see them and embrace them as God sees and embraces them. You are loving them because they are alive.

Sometimes it seems that light can transform anything! That it is an undeniable and irreducible metaphor for grace. But do the people of the ranchitos know this? Is it for beauty that they do it? Or do they merely want a comfortable illumination in their little shacks? It doesn't matter. We can't stop ourselves from making beauty. We can't stop the world.

I reach now for a victim who is not easy for me to overcome: my own past. Perhaps this victim will flee from me with a speed that equals my own. Whatever, I seek now a victim that I have never faced. And there is the thrill of the hunt in it, what the modern world calls investigation.

The big problem is not How to explain the existence of evil in this world. It's How to explain the existence of good.

The true crafty evil person is rare. It's bumbling that causes most of the misery of the world, utter stupid bumbling.

Who else would live in such an unguarded place except a woman for whom the forest was the world, he figured. And what a gentle child of that world she seemed. But oh so foolishly trusting. Way too trusting.

the moral world seemed some desperate dream of rationality that in this lush and fetid jungle had not the slightest chance.

True evil in this world is done by those with no imagination.

I suppose we could people the world with vampires, the three of us,' she said.

And I knew my vision of the garden of savage beauty had been a true vision. There was meaning in the world, yes, and laws, and inevitability, but they had only to do with the aesthetic...A thousand other things can be said about [this Savage Garden], but only aesthetic principles can be verified, and these things alone remain the same.

And I knew my vision of the garden of savage beauty had been a true vision. There was meaning in the world, yes, and laws, and inevitability, but they had only to do with the aesthetic. And in this Savage Garden, these innocent ones belonged in the vampire's arms. A thousand other things can be said about the world, but only aesthetic principles can be verified, and these things alone remain the same.

If you are evil, how can voluptuousness and debauchery be your enemies? Don't the world, the flesh, and the devil conspire equally against man?

It was the most shamefully emotional music, so like Tchaikovsky just saying, Hell with the world, and letting the sweetest, saddest pain gush, in a way that my Mozart and my Beethoven never did.

Amadeo, the world now is yours," my Master said. "You must look at the larger movements of history.

There are mutations, developments that the world includes but never embraces, things that have to be repudiated and rejected.

Did all the answers lie beyond the open door? Is the future beyond the open door? For after all, why could this not become, in spite of everything, a mere chapter of her life, marked off and seldom reread, once she had returned to the outside world where she had been kept all these years, quite beyond the spells and enchantments that were now claiming her? Oh, but it wasn't going to be. Because when you fell prey to a spell this strong, you were never the same.

It was the spacious garden I loved to paint above all, with no painted frame to set it apart from our world with its dancing figures and bending laurels. It was the familiar garden. For I imagined I could escape into it with my mind.

Whatever you thought of the world, you should have let them have their time with it. It was their world and their time.

It is plain that you move through the world by means of questions." "Yes," I said. "I do move through the world by means of questions and too often I've asked those questions in utter silence, or long centuries ago of people who gave me answers that were fragments which I had to piece together as though they were bits of old papyri. I hunger for knowledge. I hunger for what you mean to say to me.

She was no devout Christian, but all the religions of the world held a certain sway over her, and within her was a belief that collectively each faith brushed more sand from a great tablet of truth.

All the world was gone in curls of weightless sound and light.

The Empire was the world. All that lay beyond was chaos and misery and struggle and strife. I was a soldier. I could fight.

He felt some visceral connection between what was happening on the screen and his own dreams and subconscious, and with his ongoing efforts to figure out the world in which he lived. And

It was you, Master, who let me see what little I could of the marvelous bright world unfolding around me in ways I couldn't have imagined in the land or time in which I was born.