Quotes About Soul

I believe in an individual soul which travels through eternity. This life is far from all there is--in fact, it is a minute part, simply an antechamber, a deciding place where we choose the light from the dark, where we come to know what we truly value.

It was his own soul he was exploring, the one territory from which there was no escape, the one enemy which must always be faced, sooner or later, more certain than anything else in life or death.

Had he any choice? Can one decide whether to love or not? Yes, probably. One could walk away from life and choose half a life, paralysis of the soul.

I mean a spiritual fear of being weak, to the very soul, the fear which makes you hate, because you are too self-obsessed to love, too consumed by rage that you are not what you wished, that the road is harder, the price tougher than you thought.

She could understand being so in love it robbed you of your balance, your judgment of good and evil, but she could not make the leap to acting out the passion or the violence as Elissa had. There was nothing worth winning at the cost of your own being, the soul, the integrity that was the core of who you were. The act of doing such a thing made it impossible for you to hold the good, even if you could grasp it for an instant.

I didn't love him at all. I grieve because he had one life in which to seek truth and find courage to defend it. He had one life in which to explore his soul, find love, compassion, humility - and he wasted it. Nobody is richer for his having been, nobody is poorer because he is gone. Therefore I grieve.

I didn't love him at all. I grieve because he had one life in which to seek truth and find courage to defend it. He had one life in which to explore his soul, find love, compassion, humility - and he wasted it. Nobody is richer for his having been, nobody is poorer because he is gone. Therefore I grieve. (from the book or manuscript, Tathyr)

After all, the God she believed in cared for every soul, and what happened to the body left behind mattered not at all.

Do you know what it means to be loved by Death?... Do you know what it means to have Death know your name?

Oh to have you with me, to have you here, not to be alone, but to be with you, my beauty, you of all souls! You.

The finest thing under the sun and moon is the human soul. I marvel at the small miracles of kindness that pass between humans, I marvel at the growth of conscience, at the persistence of reason in the face of all superstition or despair. I marvel at human endurance.

Oh, my darling, wish you were here! And my dark soul is happy again, because it does not know how to be anything else for very long, and because the pain is a deep dark sea in which I would drown if I did not sail my little craft steadily over the surface, steadily towards a sun which will never rise.

I know nothing of god or the devil. I have never learned a secret nor found a cure that would damn or save my soul.

I allowed myself to forget how totally I had fallen in love with Lestat's iridescent eyes, that I'd sold my soul for a many-colored and luminescent thing, thinking that a highly reflective surface conveyed the power to walk on water.

Heaven would be Hell in no time if every cruel, selfish, vicious soul went to Heaven.

Don't bend; don't water it down; don't try to make it logical; don't edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly. Only if you do that can you hope to make the reader feel every particle of what you, the writer, have known and feel compelled to share.---Forward to Kafka's Short stories

My conscience is killing me, isn't it? And when you're immortal that can be a really long and ignominious death

Was it fair to say I didn't know the full state of my soul?

Pride is the parent of destruction; pride eats the mind and the heart and the soul alive.

Because no one could in any guise convince me of what I myself knew to be true, that I was damned in my own mind and soul.

Handsome enough' is this Grim Reaper, Who can snuff all these 'brief candles,' every fluttering soul sucking the air, from this hall.

You understood my soul, I thought, and now others are coming only to sack my heart of all its riches. What am I to do? We argued, yes, you and I, but it was with loving respect, was it not? I cannot endure without you. Please come to me, from wherever you are.

And my dark soul is happy again, because it does not know how to be anything else for very long, and because the pain is a deep dark sea in which I would drown if I did not sail my little craft steadily over the surface, towards a sun which will never rise.

Had I ever loved anyone more than I loved him? Had I ever revealed more of my soul to anyone than I had revealed to him? If my tears spilled now, he would see them. If I trembled now, he would know.