Quotes About Soul

To every man of great age - to Sir Wlater Bentham himself - the idea of suicide has once at least been present in the ante-room of his soul; on the threshold, waiting to enter, held out from the inmost chamber by some chance reality, some vague fear, some painful hope. The Man of Property, p. 363

You shouldn't criticize, Stan. It's an easy habit to acquire and an impossible one to break. It robs your soul of character.

Poems are the chorus of our lives. the poet sets the words to the music of our souls. Each poem has its own rhythm that drums like a heartbeat.

The world then is the enemy of our souls; first, because, however innocent its pleasures, and praiseworthy its pursuits may be, they are likely to engross us, unless we are on our guard: and secondly, because in all its best pleasures, and noblest pursuits, the seeds of sin have been sown; an enemy hath done this; so that it is most difficult to enjoy the good without partaking of the evil also.

Wine is good in itself, but not for a man in a fever. If our souls were in perfect health, riches and authority, and strong powers of mind, would be very suitable to us: but they are weak and diseased, and require so great a grace of God to bear these advantages well, that we may be well content to be without them.

May God watch over your soul, which no man may abuse.

She drew the line at television. It took no effort to watch – it was infinitely more beneficial to the soul, and to the intelligence, to read or to listen – and what she imagined there was on TV appalled her.

But she drew the line at television. It took no effort to watch—it was infinitely more beneficial to the soul, and to the intelligence, to read or to listen—and what she imagined there was to watch on TV appalled her; she had, of course, only read about it.

He was an obstetrician; he delivered babies into the world. His colleagues called this 'the Lord's work.' And he was an abortionist; he delivered mothers, too. His colleagues called this 'the Devil's work,' but it was all the Lord's work to Wilbur Larch. As Mrs. Maxwell had observed: 'The true physician's soul cannot be too broad and gentle.

That Emma was a restless soul was obvious, but not even Jack (not even Emma) was aware that something was seriously wrong with her.

My armadillo had been amputated to resemble Watahantowet's totem, the tragic and mysterious armless man—for weren't the Indians wise enough to understand that everything had its own soul, its own spirit? It was Owen Meany who told me that only white men are vain enough to believe that human beings are unique because we have souls.

Kai yra kur paganyti akis, atsiranda pla?ios perspektyvos ir sielai, <...>.

The excellence of every Art is its intensity.

I still don't know how to work out a poem. A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving into a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out, it is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept the mystery.

When it is moving on luxurious wings, The soul is lost in pleasant smotherings.

I have had a thousand kisses, for which with my whole soul I thank love—but if you should deny me the thousand and first—'t would put me to the proof how great a misery I could live through.

Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

But this is human life: the war, the deeds, The disappointment, the anxiety, Imagination's struggles, far and nigh, All human; bearing in themselves this good, That they are still the air, the subtle food, To make us feel existence. -Keats, Endymion This is the 'goal' of the soul path – to feel existence; not to overcome life's struggles and anxieties, but to know life first hand, to exist fully in context. (Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul, p.260)

Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.

She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die; And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the very temple of Delight Veil'd Melancholy has her sovran shrine, Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue Can burst Joy's grape against his palate fine; His soul shalt taste the sadness of her might, And be among her cloudy trophies hung.

There was Lorenzo slain and buried in, There in that forest did his great love cease; Ah! when a soul doth thus its freedom win, It aches in loneliness — is ill at peace 220

But even now I am perhaps not speaking from myself, but from some Character in whose soul I now live. I am sure however that this next sentence is from myself—I feel your anxiety, good opinion, and friendship, in the highest degree, and am Yours most sincerely John Keats.

Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards Its strength for darkness, burrowing like the mole; Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

Possession of anything new or expensive only reflected a person's lack of theology and geometry; it could even cast doubts upon one's soul.