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S Quotes

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All S Quotes

“Soudain mon corps devenait problématique, se détachait de moi, vivait de cette séparation, pour moi, contre moi, dan l'agonie de la douleur. Les types de Baas, le chef de la Gestapo locale, me sus­pendaient haut et court par les bras tirés en arrière, mains serrées dans le dos par des menottes. Ils me plongeaient la tête dans l'eau de la baignoire, délibérément souillée de détritus et d'excréments. Mon corps étouffait, devenait fou, demandait grâce, ignoblement. Mon corps s'affirmait dans une insurrection viscérale qui prétendait me nier en tant qu'être moral. Il me demandait de capituler devant la torture, il l'exigeait. Pour sortir vain­queur de cet affrontement avec mon corps, il me fallait l'asservir, le maîtriser, l'abandonnant aux affres de la douleur et de l'humiliation. Mais c'était une victoire à chaque minute remise en question et qui me mutilait, de surcroît, en me faisant haïr une part de moi essentielle, que j'avais jusqu'alors vécue dans l'insouciance et le bonheur physique. Pourtant, chaque journée de silence gagnée à la Gestapo, si elle éloignait mon corps de moi, carcasse pantelante, me rapprochait de moi-même. De la surprenante fermeté de moi-même : orgueil inquiétant, presque indécent, d'être homme de cette inhumaine façon.”

“Soufflé! Omelets with burnt sugar, like we used to get at Aux Trois Faisons, with our initials burned into the crust. The Tuileries! the wind biting at our coats. We walk and walk and walk (so as to wear out Mrs. Parrish so that when they did return, she was exhausted. She begged off dinner. She began to lose weight, they all did, even though they ate the lunches of duck, creamed Brussels sprouts with lardons, terrine, confit, fromage blanc, steak tartare with shimmering soft-set eggs, brioche).”

“Sought we the Scrivani word-work of Surthur Long-lost in ledger all hope forgotten. Yet fast-found for friendship fair the book-bringer Hot comes the huntress Fela, flushed with finding Breathless her breast her high blood rising To ripen the red-cheek rouge-bloom of beauty. “That sort of thing,” Simmon said absently, his eyes still scanning the pages in front of him. I saw Fela turn her head to look at Simmon, almost as if she were surprised to see him sitting there. No, it was almost as if up until that point, he’d just been occupying space around her, like a piece of furniture. But this time when she looked at him, she took all of him in. His sandy hair, the line of his jaw, the span of his shoulders beneath his shirt. This time when she looked, she actually saw him. Let me say this. It was worth the whole awful, irritating time spent searching the Archives just to watch that moment happen. It was worth blood and the fear of death to see her fall in love with him. Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love, so light she probably didn’t notice it herself. It wasn’t dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost too fast for you to see. But still, you know it’s there, down where you can’t see, kindling.”

“Soul Alone by Hannah Baker I meet your eyes you don't even see me You hardly respond when I whisper hello Could be my soul mate two kindred spirits Maybe we're not I guess we'll never know My own mother you carried me in you Now you see nothing but what I wear People ask you how I'm doing You smile and nod don't let it end there Put me underneath God's sky and know me don't just see me with your eyes Take away this mask of flesh and bone and See me for my soul alone”

“Soul Gathers Force It is possible, when the future is dim, when our depressed faculties can form no bright ideas of the perfection and happiness of a better world,-it is possible still to cling to the conviction of God's merciful purpose towards His creatures, of His parental goodness even in suffering, still to feel that the path of duty, though trodden with a heavy heart, leads to peace.”

“Soul has been demoted to a new-age spiritual fantasy or a missionary's booty, and nature has been treated , at best, as a postcard or a vacation backdrop or, more commonly, as a hardware store or refuse heap. Too many of us lack intimacy with the natural world and with our souls, and consequently we are doing untold damage to both.”