All Quotes By Tag: Angels

“The meanest people are the weakest people, for they do not even have the strength to believe in goodness. Do not let this be your life’s curse.”

“People don’t just watch the horrible news happening around the world. They take it in like food. They feed themselves with all the pain and suffering, because they think digesting it this way will somehow make them more immune to it.”

“Choosing the good of all is always your highest calling, even if that means people don’t like you for it. Being liked is meaningless if real love is not at the heart of your purpose.”

“No amount of sin-finding on Earth will bring you any closer to God. You won’t get a gold star on your soul when you return to Heaven, nor will anyone greet you with congratulations for identifying sinners on Earth and all their sinny, sin sins.”

“We cannot fully appreciate eternal life and all its bliss without first understanding the important testing ground of human life on Earth. We cannot be all until we are one. We cannot be raised high until we go low. And we cannot appreciate all our many freedoms until first we begin with nothing.”

“Prayer is the soul’s nursery, where hopes and dreams find sustenance, where make-believe awakens into faith proved real.”

“Namaste means the spirit in me sees the spirit in you. And do you see yet the great truth in this simple phrase? When your eyes and brain alone cannot see the spirit in another, the spirit in you sees it always.”

“People refuse to believe in their higher selves, and think Heaven is in some far-off place due north. This Santa Claus conundrum is troubling for those of us who see light and life as it really is, but for humans stuck in their 2-D theology, it’s the best they’ve been able to come up with so far.”

“It’s a funny irony, really, and one most humans seem to miss. When you manifest light, and allow your spirit to shine, you hurt no one, and your expression of joy is pure, but when you use your personality to purposely outshine another, you live under a shroud of darkness instead.”

“Dreaming is what you do when your eyes are closed…living is what you do with that dream once you open your eyes!”

“One of the most troubling facts I have had to accept is that people are not all angel or all devil. They are both good and awful to varying degrees and in varying circumstances. On any given day, dependent upon the situation, you will be confronted by either the devil of a person or the angel of the same person or a curious mix of both. This means you can, and most likely will, love and hate the same individual alternately throughout your life. This truth I find painfully heartbreaking.”

“Awakening With Love!!!”

“Laugh, I tell youAnd you will turn backThe hands of time.Smile, I tell youAnd you will reflectThe face of the divine.Sing, I tell youAnd all the angels will sing with you!Cry, I tell youAnd the reflections found in your pool of tears -Will remind you of the lessons of today and yesterdayTo guide you through the fears of tomorrow.”

“In the Deep South, God is a cotton king,Trussed up in plantation whites and powdered over smooth with a little bit of talcum from Momma’s compact.He’s the Georgia dust that gets on everything, in everything,Caking the soles of bare feetsifting through cracks in church pews, and catching in your lover’s eyelashes.In the Deep South, the Devil is a beautiful boywho swears and cheats at billiards on Sunday.He is the one who reaches up your skirt,pulls out the prayers your were saving for somedayand lights them on fire with his tongue.He will sing hymns while feasting on your forfeit heart,call you blessed while peeling away dignity like stockings,then drag you out in front of the church to be stoned.In the Deep South, the Holy Spirit is an old womanwith hands brown and gnarled as the nuts she boilsand a voice soft and dark as the Appalachian sky.She is the swamp kingdom matriarch children are sent towhen sins need to be wished away like warts,the presence of whom straightens the spines of wayward soulsand coaxes a “Yes Ma’am” from the devil’s own.In the Deep South, Jesus is a mixed-race childwith drops of destiny mingled into his bloodand the names of the saints tattooed along his spine.He has his mother’s bearing, one that wears suffering nobly,and baleful eyes that speak of the sins of his forefathers.The word of God flutters from his mouth like butterflieswith bodies baptized in tears and wings dipped in steel.In the Deep South, angels drink too much.They sashay and guffaw and forget to return calls.They tell white lies and agonize over what to wear.In the Deep South, angels look very much like you and I,and they cling to each other with dustbowl desperationand replenish their failing reserves of grace with ritualin the hopes of remembering what they once were,what wonders they once were capable of performing”

“Death. It was something I had to think about once. Weird, right? Strange that death was ever an inevitable end, but it wasn’t anymore. Not really. I eluded it. Tricked it. It was an odd concept—the world aged, moved forward, yet I . . . didn’t.”