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Quote by Petra Hermans

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Petra Hermans

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“I stand on the corner of the block slinging amethyst rocks. Drinkin 40’s of mother earth’s private nectar stock. Dodgin cops. ’Cause Five-O be the 666 and I need a fix of that purple rain. The type of shit that drives membranes insane. Oh yeah, I’m in the fast lane. Snorting candy yams. That free my body and soul and send me like Shazaam! Never question who I am. God knows. And I know God, personally. In fact, he lets me call him me. I be one with rain and stars and things, with dancing feet and watermelon wings. I bring the sunshine and the moon. And wind blows my tune.”

RockAmethyst
Book:The Dead Emcee Scrolls: The Lost Teachings of Hip-Hop
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“I dont apply rationality to everything I do , that would be boring.. I like to drink my coffee piping hot ,black with chocolate chips in it, I like to keep my pencils in the fridge so they write darker...I like to sleep with crystals and Lemurians under my illow because I believe it makes my mind receptive to parallel dimensions and magical realms and truths. I believe it opens my third eye, ajna chakra. sometimes I even go to bed with an amethyst upon my third eye, secured by a bandana”

CoffeeCrystalsFree SpiritAmethystLemurian
Author:Jenney Clark
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“Well,” Ehlena said awkwardly, “I can answer the question about my favorite color if you like. Might keep things from getting too heavy.” Rehv shook himself back into gear. “And what would it be?” Ehlena cleared her throat a little. “My favorite color is…amethyst.” Rehv smiled until his cheeks hurt. “I think that’s a great color for you to like. A perfect color.” -Ehlena & Rehv”

Favorite ColorAmethyst
Book:Lover Avenged
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“Nestled into a bed of shiny cream satin lay a heart-shaped pendant on a simple gold chain. The heart itself was created from over a dozen delicate round amethyst stones, while the center held a miniature painted on porcelain. Done in a series of fine, delicate strokes, the artist's rendering depicted a tiny garden, alive with masses of yellow and white hollyhocks. Right away, they reminded her of the flowers she'd been drawing that long-ago day in Bath. The day of her and Jack's very first kiss. Her gaze went to his, breath stilled in her chest. "Oh, Jack. It's Sydney Gardens, isn't it?" "That's right, with those stalky, puff-headed flowers." He gave her a gentle smile. "Do you like it?" "I love it." "I chose amethyst, since you said it's your favorite stone. I hope I remembered right?" "You did. It's so lovely. Thank you. I'll wear it each and every day," she promised. "Your heart tucked against my own." A peculiar shadow flickered momentarily across his eyes before he reached for the necklace. "Here, let me help you put it on." "Yes. Please," she said, relieved he'd offered. Her hands were trembling with so much emotion that she doubted she could have managed the task on her own. Turning slightly, she angled herself so he could place the chain around her neck and fasten the clasp. The slight weight of the gold and stones grew instantly warm against her skin. "There. How does it look?" she asked as she moved to face him again. "Beautiful," he said. But when she glanced up, she realized he wasn't looking at the pendant. Instead, he was looking at her.”

AmethystGrace And JackPendant NecklaceGift Of HeartHollyhocks
Book:Seduced by His Touch
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“The perspective changes completely when the sense of the religiousness of the Cosmos becomes lost. This is what occurs when, in certain more highly evolved societies, the intellectual élites progressively detach themselves from the patterns of the traditional religion. Periodical sanctification of cosmic time then proves useless and without meaning. The gods are no longer accessible through the cosmic rhythms. The religious meaning of the repetition of paradigmatic gestures is forgotten. But repetition emptied of its religious content necessarily leads to a pessimistic vision of existence. When it is no longer a vehicle for reintegrating a primordial situation, and hence for recovering the mysterious presence of the gods, that is, when it is desacralized, cyclic time becomes terrifying; it is seen as a circle forever turning on itself, repeating itself to infinity.”

TimeReligionSpiritualityCosmosCyclical
Book:The Sacred and the Profane: The Nature of Religion
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