Heresy is the eternal dawn, the morning star, the glittering herald of the day. Heresy is the last and best thought. It is the perpetual New World, the unknown sea, toward which the brave all sail. It is the eternal horizon of progress.
Heresy extends the hospitalities of the brain to a new thought.
Heresy is a cradle; orthodoxy, a coffin.
Tags: progress thought brave brain heresy orthodoxy cradle coffin horizon new-world
There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.Tags: cat vonnegut cat-s cradle kurt
How complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.Tags: cat vonnegut cat-s cradle kurt
The unity in every second of all time and all wandering mankind, all wandering womankind, all wandering children.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.Tags: cat vonnegut cat-s cradle kurt
In this world, you get what you pay for.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr.Tags: cat vonnegut cat-s cradle kurt
Never in his life had Edward been cradled like a baby. Abilene had not done it. Nor had Nellie. And most certainly, Bull had not. It was a singular sensation to be held so gently and yet so fiercely, to be stared down at with so much love. Edward felt the whole of his china body flood with warmth. (page 128)
Kate DiCamilloIsn't it funny. I'm enjoying my hatred so much more than I ever enjoyed love. Love is temperamental. Tiring. It makes demands. Love uses you, changes its mind. But hatred, now, that's something you can use. Sculpt. Wield. It's hard, or soft, however you need it. Love humiliates you, but Hatred cradles you.
Janet FitchTags: love hate hatred use cradle soft enjoy humiliate sculpt tiring
From the cradle to the grave, joy and pain is the fertilizer for wisdom.
T.F. HodgeTags: wisdom life experience pain joy growth grave quotes cradle
Her body accepted my brutal seed and took it to swell within, just as the patient earth accepts a falling fruit into its tender soil to cradle and nourish it to grow. Came a time, just springtime last, our infant child pushed through the fragile barrier of her womb. Her legs branched out, just as the wood branches out from these eternal trees around us; but she was not hardy as they. My wife groaned with blood and ceased to breathe. Aye!, a scornful eve that bred the kind of pain only a god can withstand.
Roman PayneTags: life pain god death sorrow child fruit death-and-dying growth earth babies dying pregnancy blood womb nourishment eternal baby cradle god-s-love pregnant soil pregnant-women painful pregnant-woman nourish infant stillbirth sorrowful chidbirth death-inspirational
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