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T Quotes

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All T Quotes

“The glory of sport comes from dedication, determination and desire. Achieving success and personal glory in athletics has less to do with wins and losses than it does with learning how to prepare yourself so that at the end of the day, whether on the track or in the office, you know that there was nothing more you could have done to reach your ultimate goal.”

“The glory of this land has been its capacity for transcending the moral evils of our past. For example, the long struggle of minority citizens for equal rights, once a source of disunity and civil war, is now a point of pride for all Americans. We must never go back. There is no room for racism, anti-Semitism, or other forms of ethnic and racial hatred in this country.”

“The Glory Yet to Be God called to us, His people To be His holy bride From out the rest of living souls He calls us to His side The way He calls is rugged Steep The way He knows We are His sheep By grand design, He has the goals His love leads to the waterholes Gives us this day our daily bread And hitherto, He's always led Though dark the way The path is steep He drives the wolves from us, His sheep At times the clouds obscure His face But, bless His name, supplies of grace Can fortify against every shock His wisdom plans for all the flock Just now the skies seemed solid brass For not, just think It came to pass The furnace, seven times hotter be My grace sufficient is for thee Your soul is riding out the gail Your courage falters, and the tale Is not yet told, but brighter gold Comes from this long hostility As Jesus calls, look unto Me I've planned for thee eternal days I've planned for thee a thousand ways I went through my Gethsemany Will you, my child, bear this for Me? My back was stripped--I bore the rod Will bear this for Me, your God? I plan for thee a jeweled crown Will you go through, or let me down? Can you bear up a few more years Or will you cause your master tears? While Joseph's brothers made a pile Joseph suffered for a while That while did not seem a lengthy season With no design, no rhyme or reason The brothers did not care a bit That Joseph languished in a pit They showed no sorrow for his plight They cared not for the wrong or right But, God was there, behind the cloud He does not shout His plan aloud The path through pit and prison led For Joseph to the nation's head Not then did Joseph weep or groan Each step was leading to a throne The starving brothers soon behold A ruler with a chain of gold They wept, and each his breast did smite Before one sold to Ishmalite Their brother, with the power of death Each man fell down with baited breath Forgiving, Joseph understood Yee meant for evil, God meant for good He did not leave me, or forsake He knew each step I had to take My shepherd, led by pastures green No other way could there have been For me, I proved that He is God Endured the dark, and kissed the rod Take this example from His word And follow on to know the Lord Now, through darksome glass we see But oh, the glory yet to be”

“The glove suddenly feels much heavier, now, more dense. The rush of power didn’t come through me, but wrapped around me; invisible and strangely empty, like a purely mechanical force. It wasn’t like I just got stronger; it was separate from me, like something stepped in and punched him instead of me. I pull the glove off gingerly, half afraid I’ll punch my own fingers off.”

“The glow dies down, and she's standing at the end of my bed--the one who's been following me around leaving feather messages. I take in the torn fishnets, plaid mini-kilt, shiny, riveted breastplate with leather straps at the sides and a worn Great Temolo decal near the left shoulder. Her wings are a crazy black-and-white-checkered pattern, like they've been spray-painted at a body shop to look like hipster sneakers.”

“The glow flares bright—bright as the billion-year-old light around us. Bright as a sun. Almost every particle in the universe was once part of a star. First, hydrogen condensing and collapsing, bringing radiance to the void. Furnaces burning bright, then fading, giving all they had left back into the cosmos. Carbon and oxygen. Iron and gold. Vast clouds swirling with their own gravity. Coalescing and disintegrating. Generation to generation. The remnants of stellar alchemy, stirring into life, then consciousness. Crawling from the oceans. Taking to the skies. And from there, back to the stars that birthed them. A perfect circle.”

“The glow intensified. She reached out with a tentative hand, aching to touch one of the jagged edges, unsure of why she had an overwhelming urge to do so. Her finger inches from a colored spike, the silence in the room turned dense, her ears beginning to ache with the pressure. Cracks appeared in the air, like a shattered mirror, reflecting the light along its fractured edges. The light reached into the cracks, filling them up, then a blinding flash . . .”

“The glow lasted through the night, beyond the bar's closing, when there were no cabs on the street. And so Mathilde and Lotto decided to walk home, her arm in his, chatting about nothing, about everything, the unpleasant, hot breath of the subway belching up from the grates. 'Chthonic', he said, booze letting loose the pretension at his core, which she still found sweet, an allowance from the glory. It was so late, there were few other people out, and it felt, just for this moment, that they had the city to themselves. She thought of all the life just underfoot, the teem of it that they were passing over, unknowing. She said, 'Did you know that the total weight of all the ants on Earth is the same as the total weight of all the humans on Earth.' She, who drank to excess, was a little bit drunk, it was true, there was so much relief in the evening. When the curtains closed against the backdrop, an enormous bolder blocking their future had rolled away. 'They'll still be here when we're gone,' he said. He was drinking from a flask. By the time they were home, he'd be sozzeled. 'The ants and the jellyfish and the cockroaches, they will be the kings of the Earth.'... 'They deserve this place more than we do,' she said. 'We've been reckless with our gifts.' He smiled and looked up. There were no stars, there was too much smog for them. 'Did you know,' he said, 'they just found out just a while ago that there are billions of worlds that can support life in our galaxy alone.' ...She felt a sting behind here eyes, but couldn't say why this thought touched her. He saw clear through and understood. He knew her. The things he didn't know about her would sink an ocean liner. He knew her. 'We're lonely down here,' he said, 'it's true, but we're not alone.' In the hazy space after he died, when she lived in a sort of timeless underground grief, she saw on the internet a video about what would happen to our galaxy in billions of years. We are in an immensely slow tango with the Andromeda galaxy, both galaxies shaped like spirals with outstretched arms, and we are moving toward each other like spinning bodies. The galaxies will gain speed as they draw near, casting off blue sparks, new stars until they spin past each other, and then the long arms of both galaxies will reach longingly out and grasp hands at the last moment and they will come spinning back in the opposite direction, their legs entwined, never hitting, until the second swirl becomes a clutch, a dip, a kiss, and then at the very center of things, when they are at their closest, there will open a supermassive black hole.”

“The glow of a lamp filled the main bedroom with quiet amber light. The unmistakable rattle of ice in a glass floated to her ears. Assuming that Shaw was in a drunken stupor, Livia went to the doorway. The sight that greeted her eyes caused her to gasp. Gideon Shaw was reclining in a slipper tub that had been set near the fire, his head leaning back against the mahogany rim, one long leg dangling carelessly over the side. He held an ice-filled glass in his hand, his gaze arrowing to hers as he took a swallow. Steam rose in veils from the bathwater, condensing on the golden curvature of his shoulders. Droplets glistened on the amber curls of his chest and the small circles of his nipples. Good Lord in heaven, Livia thought dazedly. Gentlemen suffering the aftereffects of an excess of strong spirits usually looked terrible. "Death's head on a mop stick" was how Marcus liked to describe them. However, Livia had never seen anything as magnificent as an unshaven and unkempt Gideon Shaw in his bath.”

“The glow of the Mathnawî’s inspiration has never been extinguished in Bosnia, even as its people were forced to endure trying hardships, ranging from Austro-Hungarian occupation, the Serb- dominated Kingdom of Yugoslavia, the monstrous bloodletting of the Second World War, the communist’s hindrance of religion, and most recently the ferocious atrocities of the 1990s.”

“The glow of the steetlamps sat heavy and thick above me. As I walked aimlessly, in the direction of downtown, I returned to my theories. That Mizuko and I shared the pictorial equivalent of DNA. That a sympathetic magic existed between us, no matter how far apart we were pulled. That we defied physical laws of time and space, waves, gravity, the rules laid down by physicists which governed our physical universe (earthquakes, tsunamis) and physical bodies. And yet somehow our connection had led to the opposite of intimacy. My search had led to its opposite. I had never felt so isolated and disconnected, even from myself.”