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Quote by Andrea Gibson

“Why did no one tell us that to die is to be reincarnated in those we love while they are still alive? Ask me the altitude of heaven, and I will answer, “How tall are you?”

Quote by Andrea Gibson

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Author

Andrea Gibson
Andrea Gibson

Andrea Gibson, born on August 13, 1975, is an accomplished American poet known for her profound emotions and unique narrative style. Her poetry has won her numerous awards and has had a significant impact on contemporary literature. more

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“It begins with us letting Him into the darkness. It completes with Him shining His light. Somehow, it’s both. Fully. The honesty of earth meets the truth of Heaven. The cross and the resurrection. This is the completion. And I have found the order to be key: earth is the question. Heaven is the answer.”

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Book:Praying the Word of Grace: The Revival of a Grieving Father's Soul Through the Simple Practice of Scripture-Based Prayer
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“There's no love waiting for you. There's something massive, and powerful, you can feel it . . . but I still don't know how to accurately describe how you feel it, because it's more than just knowledge. It would be physical, too, if you had a body, except you don't. Or maybe it's a different kind of body, or maybe you just haven't yet shaken off the memory of the one you had, so it feels like you're still subject to the same expectations of gravity and pain. Even though there's no love, you are wanted there. The main thing you're aware of is this pervading sense of greed. You're like one gold coin in a vault full of them, spilling over with them. You're there to be hoarded. I don't know why, I couldn't tell you why. Maybe it only wants you because it can have you. Or maybe it'll have some other use for you eventually, and for now you're in some kind of holding pen. But . . . the sense of claustrophobia, and betrayal . . . they're just devastating. You can feel that all around you, too . . . like a scream that got so loud you can't even hear it anymore, it just rips through you like an electric current . . . And the only reason you know it's not Hell, or that maybe Heaven and Hell are the same thing, is because you can hear the singing, for lack of a better word, because it's not songs, or structured. But it's beautiful. Sure—it's Heaven, right? It seems to come from all around you, but it's far away at the same time. Maybe it won't be so bad, you're thinking, if I get to listen to this. But pretty soon, you realize it's not for you. And a little while after that, you start to notice the strain in it. Like that tone in a hostage's voice when he's reading a statement about how well his captors are treating him, except he's reading it with a gun at his head. And then you realize the worst thing of all: What you're hearing are the ones that have learned to beg . . .”

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Book:World of Hurt
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