Quotes About Treasure

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens,Brown paper packages tied up with strings—These are a few of my favorite things.

If we are children of God, we have a tremendous treasure in nature and will realize that it is holy and sacred. We will see God reaching out to us in every wind that blows, every sunrise and sunset, every cloud in the sky, every flower that blooms, and every leaf that fades, if we will only begin to use our starved imagination to visualize it.

By gaming we lose both our time and treasure - two things most precious to the life of man.

Love is rare enough in this life, that when you come acrost it you'd best grab ahold, and hang on for dear life.

Discovering vocation does not mean scrambling toward some prize just beyond my reach but accepting the treasure of true self I already posses.

Discovering vocation does not mean scrambling toward some prize just beyond my reach but accepting the treasure of true self I already possess.

Smashing clay pots is called iconoclasm, a good thing when it's needed. The failure to do it when needed is called idolatry, always a bad thing. In both writing and faith, we need to commit conceptual suicide again and again—if we are serious about the vastness of the treasure and the inadequacy of our frail, finite, and flawed words.

The panther that has stalked you since you were a child is old now. No longer wild, and tired of guarding the treasure you yourself left behind - blind and deaf, she will give it all to you if you just let her go.

There is a last word to be said about the fairy tale. The old woman sends the soldier down into the deep darkness, promising him treasure, but telling him to bring back to her just one thing: an old tinder box. He succeeds, but instead of giving it to her, he kills the old woman and goes off to have his own adventures with the box and the magical genie inside. This is a complicated ending, but worth pondering.

I have come to understand, through my own writing and through working with other writers, that fear is a friend of the writer. Where there is fear, there is buried treasure. Something important lies hidden—something that matters—like the angel waiting in the stone that Michelangelo began to carve.

She is our moon. Our tidal pull. She is the rich deep beneath the sea, the buried treasure, the expression in the owl's eye, the perfume in the wild rose. She is what the water says when it moves.

It's an odd thing, happiness. Some people take happiness from gold. Or black pearls. And some of us, far more fortunate, take their happiness from periwinkles.

Wulfe had been as likely to hoard dried flowers as exquisite jewelry.

What are we hunting?" Anna's voice had lost the tautness of stress. "A treasure," said Tom. "The exact nature of which is a surprise.

Kim lifted the lid. Inside, on a small pillow covered in white velvet, lay a gold sunburst the size of her thunbnail, hung on a delicate chain. It looked a little like the first spell she had ever cast, a small explosion of light re-created in metal, and she was not really surprised to find the card with the single word "Mairelon" scrawled across it.

One longs for news from the buried ruins of some stronghold miraculously untouched since Batu Khan set fire to it, the trove, perhaps, of some Transylvanian forester digging out a fox or a badger and suddenly tumbling through the creepers and the roots into a dry vault full of iron chests abrim with parchments...

I knelt and opened up my lute case. Moving the lute aside, I pressed the lid of the secret compartment and twisted it open. I slid Threpe's sealed letter inside, where it joined the hollow horn with Nina's drawing and a small sack of dried apple I had stowed there. There was nothing special about the dried apple, but in my opinion if you have a secret compartment in your lute case and don't use it to hide things, there is something terribly, terribly wrong with you.

You're my safe harbor in an endless stormy sea. You're my shady willow on a sunny day. You're sweet music in a distant room. You're unexpected cake on a rainy day. You're my bright penny on the roadside, you are worth more than the moon on the long night walk. You are sweet wine in my mouth, a song in my throat and laughter in my heart.

Eres mi penique reluciente en la cuneta. Vales más que la sal o que la luna de una larga noche de caminata. Eres un vino dulce en mi boca, una canción en mi garganta, y la risa en mi corazón.

I slid Threpe's sealed letter inside, where it joined the hollow horn with Nina's drawing and a small sack of dried apple I had stowed there. There was nothing special about the dried apple, but in my opinion if you have a secret compartment in your lute case and don't use it to hide things, there is something terribly, terribly wrong with you.

They had no communal mythology; no tales of treason, treasure, and snow forts. It was a safe existence but not a fairy-tale one.

We weren't created to find our satisfaction in the little, earthbound kingdom treasures of the here and now. We were created to seek a better treasure, and in so doing to be eternally grateful and satisfied.

Our obsession with material things brings trouble and heartache into our lives. So we tell ourselves that we'll do better—we commit ourselves for a time to new budgets, we go on temporary diets, we hold garage sales. But none of it lasts for long because deep inside us, we treasure the creation more than we treasure the Creator.

Ask yourself: What makes your good day a good day? What are the things that tend to make you happy and satisfied? What gives your life a sense of meaning and purpose? What are the things you faithfully pursue, and what are you hoping to experience once you get them? If I watched the video of your last year, what treasure would I conclude you're after?