Buts Quotes (page 413)
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My business is, with all my might to serve my own generation; in doing so I shall best serve the next generation, should the Lord Jesus tarry... The longer I live, the more I am enabled to realize that I have but one life to live on earth, and that this one life is but a brief life, for sowing, in comparison with eternity, for reaping.
George Muller
That's coral!" she cried in astonishment. "We must be down in the deeps of the sea!"Well, wasn't that what you wanted?" said the trout. "I thought you wished you could see the sea!"I did," said Jane, looking very surprised. "But I never expected the wish to come true."Great oceans! Why bother to wish it then? I call that simply a waste of time. But come on! Mustn't be late for the party!
P. L. Travers
Fred started to follow, but Nita caught him in cupped hands, holding him back for a moment. "Fred! Did we do right?" Even here she couldn't keep the pain out of her question, the fear that she could have somehow have prevented his death. But Fred radiated a serene and wondering joy that took her breath and reassured her and filled her with wonder to match his, all at once. Go find out, he said.
Diane Duane
Virginia Wolf wrote, 'Across the broad continent of a woman's life falls the shadow of a sword.' On one side of that sword, she said, there lies convention and tradition and order, where all is correct. But on the other side of that sword, if you're crazy enough to cross it and choose a life that does not follow convention, 'all is confusion.' Nothing follows a regular course. Her argument was that the crossing of the shadow of that sword may bring a more interesting existence to a woman,...
Elizabeth Gilbert
Dona Crista laughed a bit. "Oh, Pip, I'd be glad for you to try. But do believe me, my dear friend, touching her heart is like bathing in ice."I imagine. I imagine it feels like bathing in ice to the person touching her. But how does it feel to her? Cold as she is, it must surely burn like fire.
Orson Scott Card
We're a lukewarm people for all our feast days and hard work. Not much touches us, but we long to be touched. We lie awake at night willing the darkness to part and show us a vision. Our children frighten us in their intimacy, but we make sure they grow up like us. Lukewarm like us. On a night like this, hands and faces hot, we can believe that tomorrow will show us angels in jars and that the well-known woods will suddenly reveal another path.
Jeanette Winterson
You're enjoying this, aren't you?"I'd feel better if I could guard your back."You're going to do that with a rifle from the closest hill, remember."Night vision and scope, fine, but I can't kill them all from a distance."You couldn't kill them all if you were johnny on the spot, either," I said. No but I'd feel better."Worried about me?" He shrugged. I'm your bodyguard. If you die under my protection, the other bodyguards will make fun of me." It took me a second to realize he was making a...
Laurell K. Hamilton
You ARE Zaphod Beeblebrox?'
'Yeah,' said Zaphod, 'but don't shout it out or they'll all want one.'
'THE Zaphod Beeblebrox?'
'No, just A Zaphod Beeblebrox, didn't you hear I come in six packs?'
'But sir,' it squealed, 'I just heard on the sub-ether radio report. It said you were dead...'
'Yeah, that's right, I just haven't stopped moving yet.
Douglas Adams
Clarissa will be bereaved, deeply lonely, but she will not die. She will be too much in love with life, with London. Virginia imagines someone else, yes, someone strong of body but frail-minded; someone with a touch of genius, of poetry, ground under by the wheels of the world, by war and government, by doctors; a someone who is, technically speaking insane, because that person sees meaning everywhere, knows that trees are sentient beings and sparrows sing in Greek. Yes, someone like that....
Michael Cunningham
According to most philosophers, God in making the world enslaved it. According to Christianity, in making it, He set it free. God had written, not so much a poem, but rather a play; a play he had planned as perfect, but which had necessarily been left to human actors and stage-managers, who had since made a great mess of it.
Gilbert K. Chesterton