Quotes About Gifts

We usually have a beautiful, sparkling Christmas tree and my dad reads us 'A Child's Christmas in Wales' in front of the fire and it's all very cozy. Then we pack up and head to meet my extended family, where we live out our yearly tradition of everyone gifting everyone underwear in their stockings.

For my birthday this year, my girlfriends - who knew I'd just inherited my dad's turntable - gave me a carton of albums like 'Blue Kentucky Girl,' by Emmylou Harris, and 'Off the Wall,' by Michael Jackson. It's all stuff we grew up with. I mean, you can't have a music collection without Prince's 'Purple Rain' - it just can't be done!

After 'Nine Million Bicycles', I was sent bikes from all over the world. I got about 10.

The question on my husband's birthday is always, What do you get for the man who has nothing?

All of us are born with certain gifts, and the secret to success is figuring out what your gift is and using it in a way that benefits others.

In suggesting gifts: Money is appropriate, and one size fits all.

That's one of the great gifts of this, the greatest of all games, baseball: it allows you, still, to lose yourself in a dream, to feel and remember a season of life when summer never seemed to die and the assault of cynicism hadn't begun to batter optimism.

When you go to awards shows these days, you can walk through a room and they give you everything for free: sunglasses, guitars, stuff for the wife.

Even on days when fate wishes to bestow boundless gifts on them, most people make mistakes in accepting: they don't accept straightforwardly and consequently lose something while doing so, they take with a secondary purpose in mind, or they accept what is given to them as if they were being compensated for something else.

Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts. The only gift is a portion of thyself. Thou must bleed for me.

The days come and go but they say nothing, and if we do not use the gifts they bring, they carry them as silently away.

The days come and go like muffled and veiled figures sent from a distant party, but they say nothing, and if we do not use the gifts they bring, they carry them as silently away.

My friends have come to me unsought. The great God gave them to me.

Few and mean as my gifts may be, I actually am, and do not need for my own assurance or the assurance of my fellows any secondary testimony.

Flowers and fruits are always fit presents; flowers, because they are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.

Days Daughters of Time, the hypocritic Days, Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes, And marching single in an endless file, Bring diadems and fagots in their hands. To each they offer gifts after his will, Bread, kingdom, stars, and sky that holds them all. I, in my pleached garden, watched the pomp, Forgot my morning wishes, hastily Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day Turned and departed silent. I, too late, Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.

Great gifts are not given easily and I waited years before I had you.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above" (James 1:17).

Even if materialism brought happiness in this life (which it certainly does not), it would leave us woefully unprepared for the next.   Materialism blinds us to our spiritual poverty. It's a fruitless attempt to find meaning outside of God, the Source of all life and the Giver of all good gifts.

I leave you gifts of Fate most secret; find no other's Fate, For if you do, no grave is deep enough for your despair No countryfar enough to hide your loss.

It was rather like a forced-on numbness of spirit. The long, long stress of a gale does it; the suspense of the interminably culminating catastrophe; and there is a bodily fatigue in the mere holding on to existence within the excessive tumult; a searching and insidious fatigue that penetrates deep into a man's breast to cast down and sadden his heart, which is incorrigible, and of all the gifts of the earth - even before life itself - aspires to peace.

The greatest of my gifts being a consummate capacity for doing nothing, I cannot even point to boredom as a rational stimulus for taking up a pen. The pen, at any rate, was there, and there is nothing wonderful in that.

Someone accompanies every soul from the other side when it enters this place. Usually it is an ancestor with whom that child shares traits and gifts.

I believe that if you do not answer the noise and urgency of your gifts, they will turn on you. Or drag you down with their immense sadness at being abandoned.