Quotes About Living

Czyta?, LESEN, i ?y?, LEBEN, ró?ni? si? tylko jedn? liter?.

This revolution - will it be a living?' 'We must hope so. Look, I have to go, I'm visiting a client. He's going to be hanged tomorrow.' 'Is that usual?' 'Oh, they always hang my clients. Even in property and matrimonial cases.

The hunter is among the most innocent of men; living in the moment makes him feel pure. When he returns in the evening, his body aches, his mind is full of pictures of leaves and sky; he does not want to read documents. His miseries, his perplexities have receded, and they will tay away, provided--after food and wine, laughter and exchange of storeis--he gets up at dawn to do it all over again. But the winter king, less occupied, will begin to think about his conscience.

Render me the texture of flesh. Pick me what it is, in the timbre of the voice, that marks out the living from the dead.

Vows to the living may be set aside, with their permission. But the dead do not negotiate.

In the night I was asleep,' Christophe says. 'It was some old ghost, I suppose.' 'Surely not,' Riche says. 'I never heard of ghosts that walk in June.' There's something in that. It was the veiled ladies—living women, as far as one knows—who attended him, till dawn came and they faded into the wall. He remembers the dappling of their garments, the streaks of darkness where they had wiped the queen's blood on their robes.

I see that both the living and the dead commute, riding their familiar trains. I am not, as you will have gathered, a person who needs false excitement, or simulated innovation. I am willing, though, to tear up the timetable and take some new routes; and I know I shall find, at some unlikely terminus, a hand that is meant to rest in mine.

He is thinking of a ring, engraved with proverbs in praise of obedience. Obedience binds us together; all practise it, under God. It is the condition of our living as humans, in cities and dwelling houses, not in hides and holes in the fields. Even beasts defer to the lion: beasts show wisdom and policy thereby.

The dead do not come back to complain of their burial. It is the living who are exercised about these matters.

The Word is living, being, spirit, all verdant greening, all creativity. This Word manifests itself in every creature.

The soul is the same in all living creatures, although the body of each is different.

Cardan's gaze catches mine, and I can't help the evil smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth. His eyes are bright as coals, his hatred a living thing, shimmering in the air between us like the air above black rocks on a blazing summer day.

This is the problem with living by instinct. I don't think.

There are those among the Folk so hideous that all living things shrink back in horror. And yet others have a grotesquerie so exaggerated, so voluptuous, that it comes all the way around to beauty

This is the problem with living by instinct. I don't think.

brutally, like men who think they have to deal with a swindler or a madman — it depends on their nature. I have been buried under the dead; but now I am buried under the living, under papers, under facts, under the whole of society, which wants to shove me underground again!

The living is a passing traveler; The dead, a man come home.

The world is always outside. And it is in the world that we must live.

This was how it could be done. This was how you lived with a terrible secret. You just did it. You pretended everything was fine. You ignored the deep, cramplike pain in your stomach. You somehow anesthetized yourself so that nothing felt that bad, but nothing felt that good either.

As seductive as it might have been to erase the grief and pain of the last ten years, it was also a lie. Young Alice was a fool. A sweet, innocent fool. Young Alice hadn't experienced ten years of living.

man who designs neon signs for a living and whose most passionate interest is cars? Before I met Ben, I was one of those girls who was deliberately, prettily

He lived in the moment, as you were meant to do. He practised mindfulness. No yesterday. No tomorrow. Just now.

The problem was that she wanted to convey strength in all her future interactions with this man, and her soft white body, especially when compared to Masha's Amazonian example, damn her, didn't convey anything much except fifty-two years of good living and a weakness for Lindt chocolate balls.

A Christ upon paper, though it were the sacred pages of the Gospel, would have been as powerless to save Christendom as a Christ in fresco; not less feeble than the Countenance which, in the last stages of its decay, may be traced on the wall of the Refectory at Milan. A living Christ is the key to the phenomenon of Christian history.