Six dawns in a row, a new soul glimmered on a branch of the old tree, only to fade in the strong light of the day...It looked like a star softened by drifting fog and mist... On the seventh morning it seemed to discard all hopes and intentions of ever making light of its own, and darkened and solidified into the form of a black bird.
Neal StephensonRelated topics
bird black branch day discard fog form light making morning row seventh six soulRelated quotes
The Saviour and the Comforter, two Persons of the Godhead: the One ever saves from sins, and the Other comforts him who is saved. Their very names are taken from their deeds, and are always actually justified. He comforts! The Holy Spirit comforts the believing soul, as a mother comforts her child.
John of Kronstadt
God's Providence controls the universe. It is present everywhere. Providence is the sovereign Logos of God, imprinting form on the unformed materiality of the world, making and fashioning all things. Matter could not have acquired an articulated structure were it not for the directing power of the Logos Who is the Image, Intellect, Wisdom, and Providence of God.
Anthony the Great
God is nearer to us than any man at every time. He is nearer to me than my raiment, nearer than the air or light, nearer than my wife, father, mother, daughter, son, or friend. I live in Him, soul and body. I breathe in Him, think in Him, feel, consider, intend, speak, undertake, work in Him.
John of Kronstadt
In the corner of the morning in the past
I would sit and blame the master first and last.
All the roads were straight and narrow
And the prayers were small and yellow.
And the rumour spread that I was aging fast.
Then I ran across a monster who was sleeping
By a tree.
And I looked and frowned and the monster was me.
David Bowie
I dream of cloisters of marble
where in divine silence
the heroes, standing, rest;
at night, in light of the soul,
I speak with them: at night!
They are in a row: I walk
among the rows: the stone hands
I kiss them;
the stone eyes open;
the stone lips move;
the stone beards tremble;
they seize the sword of stone; they cry:
place the sword in the sheath!
Mute, I kiss their hand.
José Martí