My people - before I was changed - they exchanged this as a sign of devotion. It's a Claddagh ring. The hands represent friendship; the crown represents loyalty... and the heart... Well, you know... Wear it with the heart pointing towards you. It means you belong to somebody. Like this.
Joss WhedonStichwörter: irish buffy-the-vampire-slayer angel buffy claddagh
I’ve noticed in my life that the people who act as my angels are not some strange angelic creatures that seem almost untouchable, but are more real than that. They are people who have tasted sorrow, who have felt pain, and in a way, that makes them capable of being an angel. In their darkest moments they have become strong.
The HippieStichwörter: sorrow angel strength-through-adversity
Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched—by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever.” (p.33)
Tim WillocksStichwörter: questions god journey madness apple smile horror colors prayer wind depression starlight eyes tree autumn bones angel mirror clock blossom sacraments asymmetry atlantic blind-man left-eye living-things nineteen-years-old power-of-sight
He looks like an angel, sings like an angel. He found my breaking heart and coaxed it into a new rhythm.
Angela MorrisonStichwörter: love heartbreak angel rhythm
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There's an old folk saying that goes: whenever you delete a sentence from your NaNoWriMo novel, a NaNoWriMo angel loses its wings and plummets, screaming, to the ground. Where it will likely require medical attention.
Chris BatyStichwörter: angel nanowrimo delete
After a long time, I cleared my throat. “So anyway, when we get to Nevada...I think we should rethink your
dad’s rule.”
Alex glanced down at me and smiled – the first real smile I’d seen on his face in a long time. “You know
what? It’s already been rethought and completely ditched,” he said. And he wrapped his arms around me
and we stood looking up at the mountains, with the rising rays of the sun lighting them from the east.
Stichwörter: angel alex willow
And who talks of error now? I scarcely think the notion that flittered across my brain was an error. I believe it was an inspiration rather than a temptation: it was very genial, very soothing—I know that. Here it comes again! It is no devil, I assure you; or if it be, it has put on the robes of an angel of light. I think I must admit so fair a guest when it asks entrance to my heart.”
“Distrust it, sir; it is not a true angel.”
“Once more, how do you know? By what instinct do you pretend to distinguish between a fallen seraph of the abyss and a messenger from the eternal throne—between a guide and a seducer?”
“I judged by your countenance, sir, which was troubled when you said the suggestion had returned upon you. I feel sure it will work you more misery if you listen to it.”
“Not at all—it bears the most gracious message in the world: for the rest, you are not my conscience-keeper, so don’t make yourself uneasy. Here, come in, bonny wanderer!”
He said this as if he spoke to a vision, viewless to any eye but his own; then, folding his arms, which he had half extended, on his chest, he seemed to enclose in their embrace the invisible being.
“Now,” he continued, again addressing me, “I have received the pilgrim—a disguised deity, as I verily believe. Already it has done me good: my heart was a sort of charnel; it will now be a shrine.
Stichwörter: error pleasure demon remorse angel charnel shrine
Authors can write stories without people assuming that they are autobiographies, but songwriters and poets are often considered to be the characters in their works. I like Michelangelo's vision, 'I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.
Criss JamiStichwörter: art music poetry writing vision story autobiography character artist sculpture author angel songwriting michelangelo marble
Your guardian angel never, ever stops communicating with you.
I feel that at times they should be frustrated with us but they seem to have endless patience and they never ever give up on us.
Stichwörter: love inspiration hope angel
You’re doing it again,” he said.
“Doing what?” I asked, wondering if I had done something wrong.
“Melting my heart with your smile,” he said.
Stichwörter: love smile angel claudia michael
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