Quotes About Soul

The people knew what had made them human; it was not their shortcomings, but their hearts.

Con l'arresto," mi dicevano i professionisti del carcere "sopraggiunge una sorta di sollievo morale; invece dell'inquietudine, dell'ansia, della tensione, si avverte una gioia segreta, in un certo senso tutto si è definito, sta facendo il suo corso... E sebbene ti si prospettino la condanna e la deportazione in carcere l'anima finalmente si riposa, ci si fa coraggio e si fa coraggio agli altri, se ne hanno bisogno

There are people whose souls have just withered, people who are willing to go along with anything evil - anything so as not to be suspected of disagreeing with whoever is in power.

Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers, the soul is the piano with its many chords. The artist is the hand that, by touching this or that key, sets the soul vibrating automatically.

Through the intensive aspiration of the human soul arises in man the desire for independence.

People talked so foolishly, I thought, about the ennobling effects of suffering. No doubt the philosophy that tells you your soul grows through grief and sorrow is right--ultimately. But I don't think this is the case at first. At first, pain beyond a certain point merely makes you lifeless, and apathetic to everything but itself.

Whether we call it religion or faith, we all battle for a balanced integrated soul.

Music is what our feelings sound like.

Don't look for a soul mate. Make one -- out of the complex fabric of the human being already with you. Instructions are never included. They vary with the strength of your ability to see, the measure of your selective blindness, the limits of your mercy, and the intensity of your desire.

In the absence of Death, In the presence of Death, Only one thing remains, It is Love.

La musique avant toute chose

If the Core Values are the soul of the organization, the core Purpose (some call it "mission") gives it heart.

Woodcarver's a great brood kenner, but even she's not sure what our new souls will be like. Oh, I can't wait to be six again!

It seemed like there was no shortage of things for us to talk about: it was like we were, in dialogue, reading a book that had no chapters and no end. There seemed to be no place to break. We walked each other back and forth until our mothers threatened to take a switch to our behinds. In this very literal way, I came to think of a homegirl as someone with whom the soul conversation is so deep and so stirring that you keep walking each other home.

I would say a few words in your ear. A doubtful man has little faith. Live a long time and it gets dark, and suddenly you know you don't know yourself. But I'd say them even so. Since my eyes repeat what they take in: your beauty, your name, the river's sound, the woods, the soul on its own.

Deeper, much deeper, the fire purifies. It is the wilderness fire to which no one descends. An exile, forbidden to souls, forbidden to shadows. Bowels that burn with an unholy solitude.

We've gone over all the soul's smallest details.

For you and everything alive inside of you, I write, and write.

Adventure, with all its requisite danger and wildness, is a deeply spiritual longing written into the soul of man. The masculine heart needs a place where nothing is prefabricated, modular, nonfat, zip lock, franchised, on-line, microwavable. Where there are no deadlines, cell phones, or committee meetings. Where there is room for the soul. Where, finally, the geography around us corresponds to the geography of our heart.

Are you worn-out from engaging in the exhausting pursuit of happiness? You will continue to experience unrest in your soul until Jesus becomes your primary pursuit.

Looks can't hide your true identity. It's the eyes that give you away…the soul behind them. The intent. The Shadows.

Wherefore the current of my soul hath broken The bounds of sensual life, And I am grown a god, a sinewy token Of Pan's most ardent strife; I am his own; I seem The shadow of his dream, As he is spinning thoughts of form and sense Out of the formless void, stark, cold and dense.

Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and cannot remain silent

It seemed to be a necessary ritual that he should prepare himself for sleep by meditating under the solemnity of the night sky... a mysterious transaction between the infinity of the soul and the infinity of the universe.