Lightnings Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
love-is-clash-lightnings-pablo-neruda
his-lightnings-enlightened-the-world-the-earth-saw-and-trembled
canst-thou-send-lightnings-that-they-may-go-and-say-unto-thee-here-we-are
nothing-can-be-colder-than-his-head-when-lightnings-his-imagination-are-playing-in-sky-ralph-waldo-emerson
yea-he-sent-out-his-arrows-and-scattered-them-and-he-shot-out-lightnings-and-discomfited-them
the-voice-of-thy-thunder-was-in-the-heaven-the-lightnings-lightened-the-world-the-earth-trembled-and-shook
let-dogs-bark-wolves-howl-lightnings-flash-crows-caw-you-continue-doing-your-job-mehmet-murat-ildan
he-causeth-the-vapours-to-ascend-from-the-ends-of-the-earth-he-maketh-lightnings-for-the-rain-he-bringeth-the-wind-out-of-his-treasuries
our-hate-will-burn-you-feel-power-our-hearts-riding-lightnings-in-dark-the-day-will-come-when-we-piss-in-your-face-wizard
all-people-see-fires-storms-explosions-landscapes-but-how-many-feel-flames-lightnings-whirlwinds-harmony-how-many-have-inner-beauty-that-tinges-emile-m-cioran
the-pilgrim-eternity-whose-fame-over-his-living-head-like-heaven-is-bent-an-early-but-enduring-monument-came-veiling-all-lightnings-his-song-in-percy-bysshe-shelley
now-there-is-naught-but-vast-black-triangle-having-apex-downwards-in-centre-black-triangle-is-face-typhon-lord-tempest-he-crieth-aloud-despair-despair-for-thou-mayest-deceive-vir
it-was-black-hooded-head-hanging-there-in-midst-intense-calm-it-seemed-sphynxs-in-desert-speak-thou-vast-venerable-head-muttered-ahab-which-though-ungarnished-with-beard-yet-here
Like the most of you, I was raised among people who knew - who were certain. They did not reason or investigate. They had no doubts. They knew that they had the truth. In their creed there was no guess - no perhaps. They had a revelation from God. They knew the beginning of things. They knew that God commenced to create one Monday morning, four thousand and four years before Christ. They knew that in the eternity - back of that morning, he had done nothing. They knew that it took him six days to make the earth - all plants, all animals, all life, and all the globes that wheel in space. They knew exactly what he did each day and when he rested. They knew the origin, the cause of evil, of all crime, of all disease and death. At the same time they knew that God created man in his own image and was perfectly satisfied with his work... They knew all about the Flood - knew that God, with the exception of eight, drowned all his children - the old and young - the bowed patriarch and the dimpled babe - the young man and the merry maiden - the loving mother and the laughing child - because his mercy endureth forever. They knew too, that he drowned the beasts and birds - everything that walked or crawled or flew - because his loving kindness is over all his works. They knew that God, for the purpose of civilizing his children, had devoured some with earthquakes, destroyed some with storms of fire, killed some with his lightnings, millions with famine, with pestilence, and sacrificed countless thousands upon the fields of war. They knew that it was necessary to believe these things and to love God. They knew that there could be no salvation except by faith, and through the atoning blood of Jesus Christ. Then I asked myself the question: Is there a supernatural power - an arbitrary mind - an enthroned God - a supreme will that sways the tides and currents of the world - to which all causes bow? I do not deny. I do not know - but I do not believe. I believe that the natural is supreme - that from the infinite chain no link can be lost or broken - that there is no supernatural power that can answer prayer - no power that worship can persuade or change - no power that cares for man. Is there a God? I do not know. Is man immortal? I do not know. One thing I do know, and that is, that neither hope, nor fear, belief, nor denial, can change the fact. It is as it is, and it will be as it must be. We can be as honest as we are ignorant. If we are, when asked what is beyond the horizon of the known, we must say that we do not know. We can tell the truth, and we can enjoy the blessed freedom that the brave have won. We can destroy the monsters of superstition, the hissing snakes of ignorance and fear. We can drive from our minds the frightful things that tear and wound with beak and fang. We can civilize our fellow-men. We can fill our lives with generous deeds, with loving words, with art and song, and all the ecstasies of love. We can flood our years with sunshine - with the divine climate of kindness, and we can drain to the last drop the golden cup of joy.

Robert G. Ingersoll
like-most-you-i-was-raised-among-people-who-knew-who-were-certain-they-did-not-reason-investigate-they-had-no-doubts-they-knew-that-they-had-truth-in-their-creed-there-was-no-gue
The bast, dispersing in shreds in the sunset whispered "Time has begun." The son, Adam, stripped naked, descended into the Old Testament of his native land and arrayed himself in bast; a wreath of roadside field grass he placed upon his brow, a staff, not a switch, he pulled from the ground, flourishing the birch branch like a sacred palm. On the road he stood like a guard. The dust-gray road ran into the sunset. And a crow perched there, perched and croaked, there where the celestial fire consumed the earth. There were blind men along the dust-gray road running into the twilight. Antique, crooken, they trailed along, lonely and sinister silhouettes, holding to one another and to their leader's cane. They were raising dust. One was beard-less, he kept squinting. Another, a little old man with a protruding lip, was whispering and praying. A third, covered with red hair, frowned. Their backs were bent, their heads bowed low, their arms extended to the staff. Strange it was to see this mute procession in the terrible twilight. They made their way immutable, primordial, blind. Oh, if only they could open their eyes, oh if only they were not blind! Russian Land, awake! And Adam, rude image of the returned king, lowered the birch branch to their white pupils. And on them he laid his hands, as, groaning and moaning they seated themselves in the dust and with trembling hands pushed chunks of black bread into their mouths. Their faces were ashen and menacing, lit with the pale light of deadly clouds. Lightning blazed, their blinded faces blazed. Oh, if only they opened their eyes, oh, if only they saw the light! Adam, Adam, you stand illumined by lightnings. Now you lay the gentle branch upon their faces. Adam, Adam, say, see, see! And he restores their sight. But the blind men turning their ashen faces and opening their white eyes did not see. And the wind whispered "Thou art behind the hill." From the clouds a fiery veil began to shimmer and died out. A little birch murmured, beseeching, and fell asleep. The dusk dispersed at the horizon and a bloody stump of the sunset stuck up. And spotted with brilliant coals glowing red, the bast streamed out from the sunset like a striped cloak. On the waxen image of Adam the field grass wreaths sighed fearfully giving a soft whistle and the green dewy clusters sprinkled forth fiery tears on the blind faces of the blind. He knew what he was doing, he was restoring their sight. ("Adam")

Andrei Bely
the-bast-dispersing-in-shreds-in-sunset-whispered-time-has-begun-the-son-adam-stripped-naked-descended-into-old-testament-his-native-land-arrayed-himself-in-bast-wreath-roadside-
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