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Warmth Quotes

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Warmth Quotes

“Love Alone Triumphs (The Sonnet) Great people have often said, Truth alone triumphs. I am no great but a plain human, So I say, love alone triumphs. Truth may require intellect, Inquiry requires some cynicism. To be loving needs none of that, Love lights up the darkest chasm. Keep your intellect if you desire, Explore further the arc of truth. But all the discovery means nothing, If countless souls go without food. It is far better to be an insane lover, Than to be a heartless discoverer.”

“I want to make buns too!” four-year-old Peter declared firmly. “Then help me knead and roll the dough,” Grandma Iryna suggested, “and I’ll shape and bake all sorts of tasty treats from it.” “Deal!” She lifted her grandson onto a sturdy chair at the edge of the table so he could reach the dough comfortably, then pinched off a small lump for him. “I’ll knead my piece, and you’ll knead yours — together we’ll finish faster,” she said. “Watch me and do the same.” Glancing at his teacher, the boy eagerly began working his dough. Soon he was covered in flour from head to toe. Iryna only smiled and encouraged him, kneading her own dough with skillful hands and humming gentle folk rhymes. — Volodymyr Shablia, Stone. Book One Context note: Set in rural Ukraine before war and repression tear childhood apart, this scene captures a fleeting moment of safety and love — a grandmother teaching her grandson patience, trust, and joy through the simplest ritual of home.”

“She likes that they have a bathroom, not an outhouse but an actual bathroom, with a toilet that flushes, a shower, and a sink too, with twin faucets from which she can draw, with a flick of her wrist, water, either hot or cold. She likes waking up to the sound of Altona bleating in the morning, and the harmlessly cantankerous cook, Adiba, who works marvels in the kitchen. Sometimes, as Laila watches Tariq sleep, as her children mutter and stir in their own sleep, a great big lump of gratitude catches in her throat, makes her eyes water.”

“A cold wind rose, biting through my jacket, and I shivered. Big Ma looked down at me for the first time. “You cold?” “N-no, ma’am,” I stuttered, not ready to leave the forest. “Don’t you be lyin’ to me girl!” she snapped, putting out her hand. “It’s time we was goin’ back to the house anyways. Your mama’ll be home soon.” I took her hand, and together we left the Caroline.”

“Everything has been done -- every material thing -- to give this place the aspect of benignity, of friendship, of tolerance and conviviality, but the character of a dwelling, like that of a man, grows slowly. The walls of my house are without memories, or secrets, or laughter. Not enough of life has been breathed into them -- their warmth is artificial; too few hands have turned the window latches, too few feet have trod the thresholds. The boards of the floor, self-conscious as youth or falsely proud as the newly rich, have not yet unlimbered enough to utter a single cordial creak. In time they will, but not for me.”

“I breathe in... The sights and smells Of this city I’ve come to know... So well I gaze... Across the turquoise ocean Where the waves Liberate my spirit... From its shell I breathe in... The brilliant sky line Where the birds Emerge shyly From the dappled sunshine I breathe in... The gently... Blowing winds That soothe me Like a mother, around her child I breathe in... The sounds of laughter Pure and pretty Like the golden-green butterfly I’m always after I breathe in... The closeness, I have always shared With people, Who almost knew me, Almost cared I breathe in... The comfort Of my home, The safe walls, The scents of childhood On the pillows I breathe in...the silence Of my own heart Aching with tenderness... With memories.. Of home I breathe... in... The fragrance Of love, and moist sand The one... His roses left... On both my hands And I just keep on breathing Every moment As much as I can Preserving it, in my body For the day It can’t So I breathe in.. Once again.. Feeling life's energy Fizzing through my cells Never knowing What awaits me Or what's going to happen to me.. Next I breathe in This moment... Knowing it's either life Or it's death I close my eyes, And breathe in Just believing in myself.”

“I was recently living more comfortably surrounded by secrets... Like dozens of luxurious satiny pillows, they were embracing me from all directions into safe lulling warmth, thus isolating me from the sharp dead-cold edges of the truth hiding behind their endearingly smooth textures and tender soothing colours. Secrets could be so irresistibly beautiful...”

“You may not know what cerebral atrophy is, you may not know what entropy is, you may not know what escape velocity is. If you could just know to lend a hand to someone in misery, that is enough.”

“Pause for reflection Let's take a moment to see if we remember a time when a process that had begun simply stopped, faded away, or became unavailable in some other way. It could be in our own therapy work or with our patients. What as our experience of this? We might check in with muscles, belly, heart, and breath as a beginning place. Then we can move to the feelings and thoughts that arose from these sensations. Do we feel at ease with these kinds of experiences, or does it feel as if something is wrong? We may find that other examples come to our awareness as well, bringing similar or different cascades of sensation, feeling and thought. As best we can, we may offer all of them welcome with warmth and kindness.”

“With all the global warming going around nowadays, it would only take the stubbornness of a mule and the patience of a sitting duck to achieve what no man has ever done before – namely melt the ice in a wax figure’s beaten heart that was chopped off and hidden 50 meters under the polar ice caps in Alaska, to protect it from feeling.”