Stopped Quotes (page 26)
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The greatest encouragement throughout the Bible is God's love for His lost race and the willingness of Christ, the eternal Son, to show forth that love in God's plan of redemption. The love of Jesus is so inclusive that it knows no boundaries. At the point where we stop caring and loving, Jesus is still there loving and caring
Aiden Wilson Tozer
Alan had still stopped her in her tracks with one of those slow, devastating kisses at her side door. He hadn't insisted on coming in. Shelby might have been grateful for that if she hadn't suspected it was just part of his planned siege. Confuse the enemy, assail her with doubts, leave her with her nerve ends tingling. Very clever strategy.
Nora Roberts
Brenna’s lorry wasn’t parked in the street. The dog was nowhere to be seen. Apparently even Betty had deserted him in his hour of need. The only choice left was a quick and cowardly retreat. “What was I thinking?” he stopped short and clapped a hand to his forehead. “I’m supposed to be helping Aidan . . . at the house. Slipped my mind.”
As quickly as he could manage, he untangled his arm, gently nudging her hand away, as he might a puppy who was inclined to nip. Down, girl. “Things are always...
Nora Roberts
SO THAT’S MY LIFE—or my life before I stopped sleeping—each day pretty much a repetition of the one before. I used to keep a diary, but if I forgot for two or three days, I’d lose track of what had happened on which day. Yesterday could have been the day before yesterday, or vice versa. I’d sometimes wonder what kind of life this was. Which is not to say that I found it empty. I was—very simply—amazed. At the lack of demarcation between the days. At the fact that I was part of such a life,...
Haruki Murakami
Come here, he said. Rebeca obeyed. She stopped beside the hammock in an icy sweat, feeling knots forming in her intestines, while Jose Arcadio stroked her ankle with the tips of his fingers, then her calves, then her thighs, murmuring: Oh, little sister, little sister. She had to make a supernatural effort not to die when a startlingly regulated cyclonic power lifted her up by the waist and despoiled her of her intimacy with 3 slashes of its claws and quartered her like a little bird. She...
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
When I was younger, before this layoff which has nearly finished me, I hitchhiked one hundred and twenty-seven hours without stopping, without food or sleep, crossed the continent twice in six days, cooled my thumbs in both oceans and caught rides after midnight on unlighted highways, such was my skill, persuasion, rhythm. I set records and immediately cracked them; went farther, faster than any hitchhiker before or since.
Tom Robbins
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off: it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left...
Pablo Neruda
It was a quiet way -He asked if I was his -I made no answer of the tongue. But answer of the eyes -And then He bore me on. Before this mortal noise. With swiftness, as of Chariotsand distance, as of Wheels. This World did drop away. As acres from the feetof one that leaneth from Balloon. Upon an Ether Street. The Gulf behind was not, The Continents were new -Eternity was due. No Seasons were to us -It was not Night nor Morn -But Sunrise stopped upon the place. And Fastened in Dawn.
Emily Dickinson
A good deed, "said the prophet Mohammed, "is one that brings a smile of joy to the face of another."
Why will doing a good deed every day produce such astounding efforts on the doer?
Because trying to please others will cause us to stop thinking of ourselves: the very
thing that produces worry and fear and melancholia.
Dale Carnegie
THE WAIT: It is life in slow motion, it's the heart in reverse, it's a hope-and-a-half: too much and too little at once. It's a train that suddenlystops with no station around, and we can hear the cricket, and, leaning out the carriagedoor, we vainly contemplatea wind we feel that stirsthe blooming meadows, the meadowsmade imaginary by this stop.
Rainer Maria Rilke