Quotes About Soul

he was a harp with only one string, and the note it played was himself.

moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me.

The yearning for him is like hunger, hollowing me. Somewhere his soul waits, but it is nowhere I can reach. Bury us, and mark our names above. Let us be free. His ashes settle among mine, and I feel nothing.

Néanmoins, dans une existence solitaire, il existe des moments rares où une autre âme plonge tout près de la vôtre, comme les étoiles qui s'approchent de la terre une fois par an. Pour moi, il avait été ce genre de constellation-là.

But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such

I had no right to claim him, I knew it. But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as starts once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me

Do you ever feel,' he said, 'as if one part of your soul belonged to a world altogether different from this world – as if it were completely disillusioned about all the things that people make such a fuss over and yet were involved in something that was very important?

It is a thing of nerves , this brutish sting, this erotic obsession, of nerves and of the psyche, the soul, the self! The flesh is pathetically, beautifully, grotesquely innocent. It is in the nerves that all lecheries, all lusts, all passions lie...in the nerves and the imagination.

In my experience, John D. MacDonald, the man, was as kind and thoughtful as his fiction would lead you to believe that he must be. That a writer's work accurately reflects his soul is a rarer thing than you might imagine, but in his case, the reflection is clear and true. For that reason, it has been a special honor, in fact a grace, to be asked to write this introduction.

More than kisses, letters mingle souls.

When you talk you talk with the little lying tips of your tongues. You dont dare lay bare your real souls. . . . But now you must listen to me for the last time. . . . For the last time I say. . . . Come here waiter you too, lean over and look into the black pit of the soul of man. And Herf is bored. You are all bored, bored flies buzzing on the windowpane. You think the windowpane is the room. You dont know what there is deep black inside.

Dim as the borrowed beams of moons and stars To lonely, weary, wandering travelers, Is Reason to the soul; and, as on high Those rolling fires discover but the sky, Not light us here, so Reason's glimmering ray Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way, But guide us upward to a better day.

What passion cannot music raise or quell

Seek not thyself without thyself to find.

Adventure, with all its requisite danger and wildness, is a deeply spiritual longing written into the soul of man.

In the spacious love of God, our souls can lie down and rest. This love from him is not something we must struggle for, earn, or fear to lose. It is bestowed. He has bestowed it upon us. He has chosen us. And nothing can separate us from his love. Not even we, ourselves. We are made for such a love. Our hearts yearn to be loved intimately, personally, and yes, romantically. We are created to be the object of desire and affection of one who is totally and completely in love with us. And we are.

The word Christ uses for "life" is the word psyche—the word for our soul, our inner self, our heart. He says that the things we do to save our psyche, our self, those plans to save and protect our inner life—those are the things that will actually destroy us.

And so a man's heart, driven into the darker regions of the soul, denied the very things he most deeply desires, comes out in darker places.

Touch nature. I'm serious—every day, your soul needs to engage creation.

When it comes to happiness, our soul is like a colander, a tire with a nail in it, our grandfather's memory. It feels like there is a homeless person inside of us, wandering around pushing a shopping cart.

Corporate policies and procedures are designed with one aim: to harness a man to the plow and make him produce. But the soul refuses to be harnessed; it knows nothing of Day Timers and deadlines and P&L statements. The soul longs for passion, for freedom, for life.

Wildness, open spaces, and animals living in utter freedom are all good for our humanity. Sometimes we need geography to usher soul into spaciousness, lightheartedness.

No other act will bring you a greater measure of God than loving him, actively engaging your heart and soul in loving him.

To make room for God to fill the vessel of our soul, we have to begin moving out some of the unnecessary clutter that continually accumulates there like the junk drawer in your kitchen.