Quotes About God

In the war of magic and religion, is magic ultimately the victor? Perhaps priest and magician were once one, but the priest, learning humility in the face of God, discarded the spell for prayer.

I understood that what matters is the work: the string of words propelled by God becoming a poem, the weave of color and graphite scrawled upon the sheet that magnifies His motion. To achieve within the work a perfect balance of faith and execution. From this state of mind comes a light, life-changed.

Perhaps priest and magician were once one, but the priest, learning humility in the face of God, discarded the spell for prayer.

An artist is somebody who enters into competition with God. The guy who built the Tower of Babel was the first artist. If I had to check out where I was in other centuries, I was his old lady. If I wasn't the guy, I was his chick. He knew that there was more and God got jealous. Even gods get uptight. Women make gods uptight. Everyone thinks of God as a man -- you can't help it -- Santa Claus was a man, therefore God has to be a man. But a man comes once. A woman never stops coming.

I liked the immediacy, the transmutation of energy. I liked the task of drawing from oneself. One's ancestors. One's God. To be a human saxophone. 'Birdland' is an example of how a lyric is composed in the studio. It is the result of the trust built between musicians, requiring communal selflessness in order to draw from the collective intelligence.

In the war of magic and religion, is magic ultimately the victor? Perhaps priest and magician were once one, but the priest, learning humility in the face of God, discarded the spell of prayer.

We waltzed beneath God's point of view knowing no ending to our rendezvous we expressed such sweet vows - My Madrigal

A sudden gust of wind shakes the branches of trees scattering a swirl of leaves that shimmer eerily in the bright filtered light. Leaves as vowels, whispers of words like a breath of net. Leaves are vowels. I sweep them up hoping to find the combinations I am looking for. The language of the lesser gods. But what of God himself? What is his language? What is his pleasure? Does he meld with the lines of Wordsworth, the musical phrases of Mendelssohn, and experience nature as genius conceives it?

In the war of magic and religion, is magic ultimately the victor? Perhaps priest and magician were once one, but the priest, learning humility in the face of God, discarded the spell for prayer. Robert trusted in the law of empathy, by which he could, by his will, transfer himself into an object or a work of art, and thus influence the outer world.

Enfim, junto ao mar, onde Deus está em toda parte, lentamente fui me acalmando. Continuei olhando o céu. As nuvens tinham as cores de um Rafael. Uma rosa ferida. Tive a sensação de que ele próprio tinha pintado a nuvem. Você o verá. Você o conhecerá. Você verá a mão dele. Essas palavras me vieram, e eu soube que um dia veria um céu pintado pela mão de Robert.

You see, I think love comes from God. And so, to turn away from love, real love, it could be argued, is to turn away from God.

Any group that allows children to die unnecessarily is sinister. And if these groups invoked the name of the Flying Spaghetti Monster instead of God, their children would likely be put in foster care and their adults in an institution. But because they claim to act in the name of God, public officials often turn a blind eye. Another

In the end, the art of hunger can be described as an existential art. It is a way of looking death in the face, and by death I mean death as we live it today: without God, without hope of salvation. Death as the abrupt and absurd end of life

It's just another word for the same thing. You want to believe in some hidden purpose. You're trying to persuade yourself there's a reason for what happens in the world. I don't care what you call it--God or luck or harmony-- it all comes down to the same bullshit. It's a way of avoiding the facts, of refusing to look at how things really work.

Only God can see the main road and the back road at the same time—which means that only God can know if you made the right choice or the wrong choice.

God was nowhere, he said to himself, but life was everywhere, and death was everywhere, and the living and the dead were joined.

Life can last just so long, you understand. Everything else is in the room, with darkness, with God's language, with screams. Here I am of the air, a beautiful thing for the light to shine on.

I'm saying you'll never know if you made the wrong choice or not. You would need to have all the facts before you knew, and the only way to get all the facts is to be in two places at the same time—which is impossible. And? And that's why people believe in God.

Rather than allowing the safety and familiarity of forms to permit our hearts to disengage, or allowing a hip beat or guitar rift to generate superficial emotion, it is imperative that our walk with God remain real, that our dialogue with his Spirit be moment to moment, that our communication of his truth be accurate, engaging, and authentic.

What I think God cares about is the disengaged heart. I do not think that he is particularly interested in our theories or techniques of worship except as they are effective in genuinely drawing hearts to him. Worship that is not heartfelt and authentic simply does not interest him.

worship is multiform, not uniform. God is not threatened by this reality—he ordained it; he expects it; he glories in it.

Foy gave me the same sorrowful look the missionaries must've given the jungle heathen. A look that said, It doesn't matter if you're too stupid to understand God's love. He loves you regardless, just hand over the women, the distance runners, and the natural resources.

You know why white people don't ever just happen to be white? Because they all think they've just happened to have been touched by God, that's why!" I

if God was a woman, she wouldn't have screwed things up this badly.