Softening 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
every-man-who-will-not-have-softening-heart-must-at-last-have-softening-brain-gilbert-k-chesterton
repentance-is-softening-ones-heart-realigning-ones-affections-gary-rohrmayer
give-others-their-dignity-by-opening-softening-in-your-heart-to-them-john-de-ruiter
i-have-witnessed-the-softening-of-the-hardest-of-hearts-by-a-simple-smile
tears-are-softening-showers-which-cause-seed-heaven-to-spring-up-in-human-heart-walter-scott
it-is-not-real-punishment-the-only-effectual-one-only-deterrent-softening-one-lies-in-recognition-sin-by-conscience-fyodor-dostoevsky
a-cloud-eiderdown-draws-around-me-softening-sound-sleepy-time-i-lie-with-my-love-by-my-side-pink-floyd
for-tens-of-millions-of-people-television-has-become-habitforming-brainsoftening-tastedegrading
life-is-made-too-easy-mankinds-moral-fibre-is-giving-way-under-softening-influence-luxury-johan-huizinga
this-softening-she-sees-in-me-isnt-enough-to-make-me-affectionate-but-its-just-enough-to-render-me-inept-i-cant-give-her-what-she-wants-virtuousness-what-she-needs-protection-nen
humility-is-softening-shadow-before-stature-excellence-and-lieth-lowly-on-ground-beloved-lovely-as-violet-martin-farquhar-tupper
men-gay-straight-can-get-beauty-lewdness-into-one-image-women-are-forever-softening-censoring-politicizing-camille-paglia
no-advance-in-wealth-no-softening-of-manners-no-reform-or-revolution-has-ever-brought-human-equality-a-millimeter-nearer
my-heart-was-full-softening-showers-i-used-to-swing-like-this-for-hours-i-did-not-care-for-war-death-i-was-glad-to-draw-my-breath-stevie-smith
i-work-deliberately-with-plan-but-sometimes-i-come-to-point-that-i-planned-as-end-it-needs-softening-ending-novel-is-almost-like-putting-child-to-sleep-it-cant-be-done-abruptly
where-you-just-possessed-cookie-asked-after-long-moment-awe-softening-her-voice-cause-let-me-tell-you-sweetheart-if-that-was-possession-im-selling-my-darynda-jones
these-kids-are-already-hard-they-dont-need-to-be-made-harder-the-issue-is-softening-them-up-they-need-to-learn-how-to-care-about-life-again-theyve-lost-that-thats-what-we-need-to
we-are-all-us-always-only-one-breath-softening-our-thought-away-from-invasion-divine-wonder-fresh-miracles-soul-waits-for-any-small-opening-our-hearts-to-steal-into-everyday-life
we-just-never-know-we-think-we-do-we-think-we-have-life-figured-out-in-our-arrogance-we-become-hard-but-life-has-way-humbling-us-softening-us-philip-gulley
whenever-conviction-gods-spirit-comes-there-is-softening-whole-nature-to-obey-but-if-obedience-is-not-instant-there-will-come-metallic-hardening-corrupting-guidance-god-oswald-ch
that-you-honestly-believe-i-am-capable-hurting-innocent-people-for-no-reason-youre-not-i-asked-hope-softening-my-voice-oh-no-im-more-than-capable-i-darynda-jones
the-rub-is-that-pursuit-happiness-as-end-in-itself-tends-automatically-widely-to-be-replaced-by-pursuit-pleasure-with-consequent-general-softening-fibers-will-intelligence-spirit
brave-bold-men-these-are-what-we-want-what-we-want-is-vigour-in-blood-strength-in-nerves-iron-muscles-nerves-steel-not-softening-nambypamby-ideas-swami-vivekananda
traditionally-our-ancestors-boiled-mushrooms-in-water-to-make-soothing-tea-boiling-served-several-purposes-killing-contaminants-softening-flesh-extracting-rich-soluble-polysaccha
there-is-difference-between-admitting-confessing-admitting-involves-softening-making-excuses-for-things-that-cannot-be-excused-confessing-just-names-veronica-roth
Michael grew silent, his gaze softening as he looked from me to Will, and a dim light of hope flickered in my heart. 'You would mourn for him.' 'Yes, I said. 'I would mourn him forever with a broken heart. This human soul has given me so many blessings and curses. I'm the only one of our kind who has ever felt the most perfect happiness and the truest sorrow - because of this soul. My love for my Guardian is one of those blessings. It's not a curse.' 'You can, ' I promised. 'Please trust me. I need all the help I can get, and that includes yours. If you kill my Guardian, then I will never forgive you. I can't be at war with you too. Please, please, Michael, my brother. Don't kill him... A tear caught on the edge of my lips. 'Do you love me as your sister?' His mouth opened to reply, but nothing came out. 'It's okay, ' I whispered. 'You're worried about me, because you love me. Don't be afraid of feeling anything. our Father made us this way. He wouldn't make a mistake.' 'I... , ' Michael said, and emotion spilled over his face. His brow furrowed with exhaustion and he seemed overwhelmed by what he felt. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. 'You are my sister, Gabriel.' 'Then don't do this.' I begged him. He was quiet again for several agonising moments, returning to his emotionless state. 'Keep him. I have faith in you, Sister. Will and I breathed sighs of relief, but it was a few seconds before Michael withdrew his sword. His expression remained unchanging as he lifted Will's death warrant.

Courtney Allison Moulton
michael-grew-silent-his-gaze-softening-as-he-looked-from-me-to-will-dim-light-hope-flickered-in-my-heart-you-would-mourn-for-him-yes-i-said-i-would-mourn-him-forever-with-broken-
Fear of the Dark I've always been prone to worry and anxiety, but after I became a mother, negotiating joy, gratitude, and scarcity felt like a full-time job. For years, my fear of something terrible happening to my children actually prevented me from fully embracing joy and gratitude. Every time I came too close to softening into sheer joyfulness about my children and how much I love them, I'd picture something terrible happening; I'd picture losing everything in a flash. At first I thought I was crazy. Was I the only person in the world who did this? As my therapist and I started working on it, I realized that 'my too good to be true' was totally related to fear, scarcity, and vulnerability. Knowing that those are pretty universal emotions, I gathered up the courage to talk about my experiences with a group of five hundred parents who had come to one of my parenting lectures. I gave an example of standing over my daughter watching her sleep, feeling totally engulfed in gratitude, then being ripped out of that joy and gratitude by images of something bad happening to her. You could have heard a pin drop. I thought, Oh, God. I'm crazy and now they're all sitting there like, 'She's a nut. How do we get out of here?' Then all of the sudden I heard the sound of a woman toward the back starting to cry. Not sniffle cry, but sob cry. That sound was followed by someone from the front shouting out, 'Oh my God! Why do we do that? What does it mean?' The auditorium erupted in some kind of crazy parent revival. As I had suspected, I was not alone.

Brene Brown
fear-dark-ive-always-been-prone-to-worry-anxiety-but-after-i-became-mother-negotiating-joy-gratitude-scarcity-felt-like-fulltime-job-for-years-my-fear-something-terrible-happenin
When an animal dies, another of the same species may cling to the body, eat the body, or look bored. Bees expel dead bodies from the hive or, if that is impossible, embalm them in honey. Elephants "say" a ritualistic good-bye, and touch their dead before slowly walking away. Corvids often accept the death of a companion without much fuss, but they at times have 'funerals, ' where scores of birds lament over the corpse of a deceased crow. But it is a bit odd that people should investigate whether animals 'comprehend death, ' as if human beings understood what it means to die. Is death a prelude to reincarnation? A portal to Heaven or Hell? Complete extinction? Union with all life? Or something else? All of these views can at times be comforting, yet people usually fear death, quite regardless of what they claim to believe. In the natural world, killing seems a casual affair. Human beings, of course, kill on a massive scale, but most of us can only kill, if at all, by softening the impact of the deed through rituals such as drink or prayer. The strike of a spider, a heron, or a cat is swift and, seemingly, without inhibition or remorse. They pounce with a confidence that could indicate ignorance, indifference, or else profound knowledge. Could this be, perhaps, because animals cannot conceive of killing, since they are not aware of death? Could it be because they understand death well, far better than do human beings? If animals envision the world not in terms of abstract concepts but sensuous images, the soul might appear as a unique scent, a rhythmic motion, or a tone of voice. Death would be the absence of these, though without that absolute finality that we find so severe. Perhaps the heron that snaps a fish thinks his meal lives on, as he one day will, in the form of currents in the pond.

Boria Sax
when-animal-dies-another-same-species-may-cling-to-body-eat-body-look-bored-bees-expel-dead-bodies-from-hive-if-that-is-impossible-embalm-them-in-honey-elephants-say-ritualistic-
I had a bizarre rapport with this mirror and spent a lot of time gazing into the glass to see who was there. Sometimes it looked like me. At other times, I could see someone similar but different in the reflection. A few times, I caught the switch in mid-stare, my expression re-forming like melting rubber, the creases and features of my face softening or hardening until the mutation was complete. Jekyll to Hyde, or Hyde to Jekyll. I felt my inner core change at the same time. I would feel more confident or less confident; mature or childlike; freezing cold or sticky hot, a state that would drive Mum mad as I escaped to the bathroom where I would remain for two hours scrubbing my skin until it was raw. The change was triggered by different emotions: on hearing a particular piece of music; the sight of my father, the smell of his brand of aftershave. I would pick up a book with the certainty that I had not read it before and hear the words as I read them like an echo inside my head. Like Alice in the Lewis Carroll story, I slipped into the depths of the looking glass and couldn't be sure if it was me standing there or an impostor, a lookalike. I felt fully awake most of the time, but sometimes while I was awake it felt as if I were dreaming. In this dream state I didn't feel like me, the real me. I felt numb. My fingers prickled. My eyes in the mirror's reflection were glazed like the eyes of a mannequin in a shop window, my colour, my shape, but without light or focus. These changes were described by Dr Purvis as mood swings and by Mother as floods, but I knew better. All teenagers are moody when it suits them. My Switches could take place when I was alone, transforming me from a bright sixteen-year-old doing her homework into a sobbing child curled on the bed staring at the wall. The weeping fit would pass and I would drag myself back to the mirror expecting to see a child version of myself. 'Who are you?' I'd ask. I could hear the words; it sounded like me but it wasn't me. I'd watch my lips moving and say it again, 'Who are you?

Alice Jamieson
i-had-bizarre-rapport-with-this-mirror-spent-lot-time-gazing-into-glass-to-see-who-was-there-sometimes-it-looked-like-me-at-other-times-i-could-see-someone-similar-but-different-
Adelia began to get cross. Why was it women who were to blame for everything-everything, from the Fall of Man to these blasted hedges? 'We are not in a labyrinth, my lord, ' she said clearly. 'Where are we, then?' 'It's a maze.' 'Same difference.' Puffing at the horse: 'Get back, you great cow.' 'No, it isn't. A labyrinth has only one path and you merely have to follow it. It's a symbol of life or, rather, of life and death. Labyrinths twist and turn, but they have a beginning and an end, through darkness into light.' Softening, and hoping that he would, too, she added, 'Like Ariadne's. Rather beautiful, really.' 'I don't want mythology, mistress, beautiful or not, I want to get to that sodding tower. What's a maze when it's at home?' 'It's a trick. A trick to confuse. To amaze.' 'And I suppose Mistress Clever-boots knows how to get us out?' 'I do, actually.' God's rib, he was sneering at her, sneering. She'd a mind to stay where she was and let him sweat. 'Then in the name of Christ, do it.' 'Stop bellowing at me, ' she yelled at him. 'You're bellowing.' She saw his teeth grit in the pretense of a placatory smile; he always had good teeth. Still did. Between them, he said, 'The Bishop of Saint Albans presents his compliments to Mistress Adelia and please to escort him out of this hag's hole, for the love of God. How will you do it?' 'My business.' Be damned if she'd tell him. Women were defenseless enough without revealing their secrets. 'I'll have to take the lead.' She stumped along in front, holding Walt's mount's reins in her right hand. In the other was her riding crop, which she trailed with apparent casualness so that it brushed against the hedge on her left. As she went, she chuntered to herself. Lord, how disregarded I am in this damned country. How disregarded all women are... Ironically, the lower down the social scale women were, the greater freedom they had; the wives of laborers and craftsmen could work alongside their men-even, sometimes, when they were widowed, take over their husband's trade. Adelia trudged on. Hag's hole. Grendel's mother's entrails. Why was this dreadful place feminine to the men lost in it? Because it was tunneled? Womb-like? Is this woman's magic? The great womb? Is that why the Church hates me, hates all women? Because we are the source of all true power? Of life? She supposed that by leading them out of it, she was only confirming that a woman knew its secrets and they did not. Great God, she thought, it isn't a question of hatred. It's fear. They are frightened of us. And Adelia laughed quietly, sending a suggestion of sound reverberating backward along the tunnel, as if a small pebble was skipping on water, making each man start when it passed him. 'What in hell was that?' Walt called back stolidly, 'Reckon someone's laughing at us, master.' 'Dear God.

Ariana Franklin
adelia-began-to-get-cross-why-was-it-women-who-were-to-blame-for-everythingeverything-from-fall-man-to-these-blasted-hedges-we-are-not-in-labyrinth-my-lord-she-said-clearly-where
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