Quotes About God

I've been playing Sunrise for years. I love it there. It's so loosey-goosey. I was up at the Kravis Center and it was, like, 'Oh my God!' All the minkdraggers, you know?

I believe in evolution. But I also believe, when I hike the Grand Canyon and see it at sunset, that the hand of God is there also.

I think God loves to hear little kids laugh at fart jokes. He didn't just make sunsets and bluebirds, He made hot babes. And dirty old men like me. That's the modest message I've set out to tell the world: you don't have to be Ned Flanders to be a Christian.

Every player should be accorded the privilege of at least one season with the Chicago Cubs. That's baseball as it should be played - in God's own sunshine. And that's really living.

Rick Rubin is super intriguing to me because he has become this god producer in completely drastically different genres, which very few people have done.

I don't know what it was, there was just this vision that God revealed to me that we were going to come back, we were going to be a part of a Super Bowl, we were going to win it. And somehow - somehow I was going to walk off the field as the MVP of the game.

I am circling around God, around the ancient tower, and I have been circling for a thousand years, and I still don't know if I am a falcon, or a storm, or a great song.

God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don't let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness. Give me your hand.

I live my life in growing orbits which move out over this wondrous world, I am circling around God, around ancient towers and i have been circling for a thousand years. And I still dont know if I am an eagle or a storm or a great song.

Take your well-disciplined strengths, stretch them between the two great opposing poles, because inside human beings is where God learns.

They all have tired mouths and bright seamless souls. And a longing (as for sin) sometimes haunts their dreams. They are almost all alike; in God's gardens they keep still, like many, many intervals in his might and melody. Only when they spread their wings are they wakers of a wind: as if God with his broad sculptor- hands leafed through the pages in the dark book of the beginning.

And when suddenly the god stopped her and, with anguish in his cry, uttered the words: 'He has turned round' – she comprehended nothing and said softly: 'Who?

Why don't you think of [God] as the one who is coming, who has been approaching from all eternity... the ultimate fruit of a tree whose leaves we are.

Ask no one to speak of you, not even contemptuously. And when time passes and you notice how your name is spreading around among people, don't take it more seriously than any of the other things you find on their lips. Think: your name has turned bad, and get rid of it. Take on another, any other, so that God can call you in the night. And conceal it from everyone.

I live my life in growing orbits which move out over the things of the world. Perhaps I can never achieve the last, but that will be my attempt. I am circling around God, around the ancient tower, and I have been circling for a thousand years, and I still don't know if I am a falcon, or a storm, or a great song.

Take your practiced powers and stretch them out until they span the chasm between contradictions ... for the god wants to know himself in you.

What would you do, God, if I died?

Sin is the most wonderfully roundabout path to God

My God, if any of it could be shared! But would it be then, would it be? No, it is only at the price of solitude.

If somewhere deep within me arises some essence of having been a child, one I never experienced, perhaps the purest childness of my childhood, I don't want to know it. Without even looking, I want to form an angel out of it and hurl him into the foremost rank of screaming angels, to remind God.

I come home from the soaring In which I lost myself. I was song, and the refrain which is God Is still roaring in my ears.

I circle for millennia, around God, around the ancient tower,    and still do not know: am I hawk, a storm, or a great song?

Do not suppose that I am smarting under disappointments. Quite the contrary. At times I am bemused to find how readily I relinquish all my expectations for the sake of reality, even when it is harsh. My God, if only some of this could be shared. But would it then be, would it be? No, it is only at the price of solitude.

Ask yourself, dear Mr. Kappus, whether you really have lost God? Is it not rather, that you have never yet possessed him? For when should that have been? Do you not believe that a child can hold him, him whom men bear only with effort and whose weight compresses the old? Do you believe that anyone who really has him could lose him like a little stone, or do you not think rather that whoever had him could only be lost by him?