Brings Quotes (page 6)
The day returns and brings us the petty round of irritating concerns and duties. Help us to play the man, Help us to perform them with laughter and kind faces, Let cheerfulness abound with industry. Give us to go blithely on our business all this day, Bring us to our resting beds weary and content and undishonoured, And grant us in the end the gift of sleep.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Assuredly we bring not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much rather: that which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary…. They are not skillful considerers of human things who imagine to remove sin by removing the matter of sin. For … it is a huge heap increasing under the very act of diminishing…. Good and evil we know in the field of this world grow up together almost inseparably…. It was from out of the rind of one apple tasted, that the knowledge of good and...
John Milton
He yearned to know nothing more about himself, to find peace, to be dead. If only lightning could come and kill him. If only a tiger could come and devour him. If only there were a wine, a poison that could bring him a stupor, bring him sleep and oblivion and no more awakening. Was there any filth with which he had not soiled himself, any sin or folly he had not committed, any spiritual bleakness with which he had not burdened himself? Was it still possible to go on living? Was it possible to...
Herman Hesse
That brings me to the real reason for the title: Where does that which happens during reading a book take place? (...) Does not every reader, whether he wants it or not, bring (...) his own experiences and thoughts into the process of reading? (...) Is not every book a mirror in which the reader is reflected, whether he knows it or not? And is not every reader a mirror in which the book is reflected?
Michael Ende
And I wish that I was made of stone. So that I would not have to see. A beauty impossible to define. A beauty impossible to believe. A beauty impossible to endure. The blood imparted in little sips. The smell of you still on my hands. As I bring the cup up to my lips. No God up in the sky. No devil beneath the sea. Could do the job that you did, baby. Of bringing me to my knees
Nick Cave