Comfort Quotes

Might I not be able to love God in the ways that Katie was loving me? A desire to be close, to be in touch, to receive strokes and caresses from the Eternal, to feel warm and safe and comfortable with God? Was this not exactly what I longed for -- the experience of stretching out, so to speak, on the breast of God, purring in contentment, safely supported by the everlasting arms?

I'm usually a bit awkward in houses that I haven't been to before, so it's a way to not look weird. If I find something I've read before it automatically makes me more comfortable.

there are two types of people in the world: those who prefer to be sad among others, and those who prefer to be sad alone.

You are no ruin sir--no lighting-struck tree: you are green and vigorous. Plants will grow about your roots, whether you ask them or not, because they take delight in your bountiful shadow; and as they grow they will lean towards you, and wind round you, because your strength offers them so safe a prop.

We will always find ourselves in trouble when we get comfortable with things as they are.

Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh.

She closed her eyes. Said the four most comforting words she knew: "Once upon a time." An incantation.

Anna and Emma just poofed.”“What?”“I was standing there. I was watching them. I was holding Anna’s hand when it happened.”Astrid rose and without really thinking about it wrapped her arms around Sam like she did when she was trying to comfort Little Pete.But unlike Little Pete, Sam responded to her touch by awkwardly hugging her back. For a moment his face was in her hair and she heard his ragged breathing close to her ear. And it seemed like they might do it again, the kissing thing, but then, both at once, they pushed away.“She was scared,” Sam said. “Anna, I mean. She saw Emma disappear. They were born just six minutes apart. So, first Emma. Then Anna, waiting for it. Knowing it was coming.

Stop seeking attention from people who don't give you the time of day. Value your time, comfort your spirit, have peace of mind. There are people who love you and care about you.Give your smiles to them.

it is an ocean of burning oil I am cast adrift upon, no sea’s repose; I pass from waking agonies… to the semiconscious trance of torment in which the smaller, earlier, deeper rings of the brain know only that the nerves scream, the body aches, and there is no one to turn crying to for comfort.

Childish certainty that nothing could get him while under the covers wasn't much comfort, but it was a start.

Jesus came to bring life more abundantly. He came to save the soulsick, to deliver those bound up in sin, to break the chains of bondage and addiction. He came to heal the hurting, and comfort and restore the used, abused, bruised, battered, and broken. He came to forgive the worst sinner and to bring life to the lifeless. He came to reconcile us with God so we can have relationship with our Father.

I did it the hard way (a poem)___________________Many of the big dreams I dreamt,I dreamt, when I met a failed attempt.Life taught me to believe thatGreat ideas can start from a wretched hut.Many of the strongest steps I took,I took, when I was given the fiercest look.My passion pokes me to understandThat people’s mockeries, I can withstand.Many of the fastest speeds I gained,I gained when I was bitterly stained.I first thought the only way was to quitAs I tried again, I no longer have guilt.Many of the bravest decisions I made,I made, when my life was about to fade.I was frustrated and ripe to sink.But then I strive to release the ink.Many of the longest journeys I started,I started, having no resource; money partedI relied on God my creator all dawn longAnd at dusk He gave me a new song.Many of the hardest questions I tackled,I tackled, when I was heckled.They were very troublesome to settleBut I make it happen little by littleYet, it was not I, but the Lord JesusThe saviour who gives me success.In Him, through Him and by HimI have the liberty to do everything with vim.I don’t want to enjoy this liberty alone.You too must step out of your comfort zone.It’s not easy, but you can do it anyway.Jesus is the life, the truth and the way.

If my journey was so easy, I would have missed out on life's invaluable lessons. From misery I learnt to comfort those in tears, from lack I learnt to give to the needy; from uncertainty I learnt to understand others and from my silence I learnt to listen to the voiceless.

One of the most important things you can do on this earth is to let people know they are not alone.

Good luck' is like the shadow of a tree, for some time it gives comfort to a traveler but it doesn't go ahead with a traveler.

To be comforted by God is a promise that few of us ever receive, because we are consumed with controlling our situations to avoid being vulnerable.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.

When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.

Remember, you are never alone in this world. Never.

What the advertisements are telling us on TV is not the truth. Life is not about comfort.

The abundant life Jesus spoke of isn't opposed to the material, but it consists of more than just the material.

For a knowledge of intimacy, localization in the spaces of our intimacy is more urgent than determination of dates.

After moral poisoning, one requires physical remedies and a bottle of champagne.

You’re angry at me,” she says.I stop crying at once. My whole body goes cold and still. She squats down beside me, and even though I’m careful not to look up, not to look at her at all, I can feel her, can smell the sweat from her skin and hear the ragged pattern of her breathing.“You’re angry at me,” she repeats, and her voice hitches a little. “You think I don’t care.”Her voice is the same. For years I used to imagine that voice lilting over those forbidden words: I love you. Remember. They cannot take it. Her last words to me before she went away.She shuffles forward and squats next to me. She hesitates, then reaches out and places her palm against my cheek, and turns my head toward hers so I’m forced to look at her. I can feel the calluses on her fingers.In her eyes, I see myself reflected in miniature, and I tunnel back to a time before she left, before I believed she was gone forever, when her eyes welcomed me into every day and shepherded me, every night, into sleep.“You turned out even more beautiful than I’d imagined,” she whispers. She, too, is crying.The hard casement inside me breaks.“Why?” is the only word that comes. Without intending to or even thinking about it, I allow her to draw me against her chest, let her wrap her arms around me. I cry into the space between her collarbones, inhaling the still-familiar smell of her skin.There are so many things I need to ask her: What happened to you in the Crypts? How could you let them take you away? Where did you go? But all I can say is: “Why didn’t you come for me? After all those years—all that time—why didn’t you come?” Then I can’t speak at all; my sobs become shudders.“Shhh.” She presses her lips to my forehead, strokes my hair, just like she used to when I was a child. I am a baby once again in her arms—helpless and needy. “I’m here now.”She rubs my back while I cry. Slowly, I feel the darkness drain out of me, as though pulled away by the motion of her hand. Finally I can breathe again. My eyes are burning, and my throat feels raw and sore. I draw away from her, wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand, not even caring that my nose is running. I’m suddenly exhausted—too tired to be hurt, too tired to be angry. I want to sleep, and sleep.“I never stopped thinking about you,” my mother says. “I thought of you every day—you and Rachel.

God sovereignly controls every detail of your life, which should be a great comfort to you.

I sob and clutch my stuffed bunny. Nick leaps up on my bed and squashes his body against mine, nuzzling my face with his muzzle until I lift it enough for him to lick away my tears.While the pixie rages downstairs, I wrap my arms around Nick’s furry body and cry into him. My shoulders quake from the effort of it. He whimpers once or twice and tries to lick my face some more, but mostly he watches the door, and eventually I stop with the pathetic sobbing stuff and just keep crying.

That's the best thing I can think of. Having a good hold on your arse always makes me feel steady.

A word of consolation may sweetly touch the ear.Now and then a quiet songwill clear the mind of fear.A simple act of kindnesscan ease a load of care.Stories told in memorydiminish all despair.A whispered prayer of comfortdraws angel arms around.Counting blessings, great and small,helps gratitude abound.These acts, all sympathetic,will kindly play their part.But seldom do they dry the tearsshed mutely in the heart.

Shooting Willoughby carrying Marianne up the path. ... Male strength -- the desire to be cradled again? ... I'd love someone to pick me up and carry me off. Frightening. Lindsay assures me I'd start to fidget after a while. She's such a comfort.

Rainy days should be spent at home with a cup of tea and a good book.

Yeah, let’s get John here. That way we can stall for a while longer. We can keep on doing nothing for just a little while longer.”Albert said, “Take it easy, Howard.”“Take it easy?” Howard jumped to his feet. “Yeah? Where were you last night, Albert? Huh? Because I didn’t see you out there on the street listening to kids screaming, seeing kids running around hurt and scared and choking, and Edilio and Orc struggling, and Dekka hacking up her lungs and Jack crying and…“You know who couldn’t even take it?” Howard raged. “You know who couldn’t even take what was happening? Orc. Orc, who’s not scared of anything. Orc, who everyone thinks is some kind of monster. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t…but he did. And where were you, Albert? Counting your money? How about you, Astrid? Praying to Jesus?”Astrid’s throat tightened. She couldn’t breathe. For a moment panic threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to run from the room, run away and never look back.Edilio got to his feet and put an arm around Howard. Howard allowed it, and then he did something Astrid never thought she would see. Howard buried his face in Edilio’s shoulder and cried, racking sobs.“We’re falling apart,” Astrid whispered for herself alone.But there was no easy escape. Everything Howard had said was true. She could see the truth reflected in Albert’s stunned expression. The two of them, the smart ones, the clever ones, the great defenders of truth and fairness and justice, had done nothing while others had worked themselves to exhaustion.

I had dedicated my life to words. But sometimes, words are not needed.

And if I am comfortable with it, why do I still call it loneliness? Because--and I think somehow she would understand this--you can have and recognize a sadness in your alienation and in other people's alienation and still not long to be around anyone. I think that if you wonder about other people's loneliness, or contemplate it at all, you've got a real leg up on being comfortable on your own.

There is such a shelter in each other.

So go back to the books. They will comfort you and cheer you. If you earnestly work with them, neither sorrow nor anxiety nor distress nor suffering need trouble your mind any more, no, not evermore.

The comfort was peculiarly chilling.

Ask anyone and they'll most likely say their family is crazy, and if they don't say their family is crazy, their friends are crazy. That's because everyone is crazy after taking the mask off. People are most themselves when not really trying to fit in, when either alone or around those already closest to them, and that is crazy.

At the root of the tree at the heart of the world,With a chain round his neck, the Wolf lies curled. His gleaming teeth and jaws are furled,And the sun shall rise in the morning. His chain, it is forged of the nerve of a bear,Of the voice of a fish, and a girl's chin-hair. His chain, it is light and strong and fair,And the sun shall rise in the morning. With a mountain's root, and a cat's foot-fall,And the spit of a bird, he is held in thrall, Though iron could bind him never at all, And the sun shall rise in the morning. The sun shall rise, the stars shall fade,For the binding which the good gods madeStill loops the Wolf in its lovely braid, And the sun shall rise in the morning.

Without the hard we stay too soft, and heaven is reduced to myths like life. Theology aside, it’s plain to see that God forbids we get too comfortable.

The Christmas spirit is simply an honest spirit of love for all humanity. It is the force that moves us to give what we can, to help as we are able, and to always be of kind comfort.

I remember her words to me when I left school: Your mind will be your comfort. It is, sometimes. And sometimes it isn't.

Comfort has been the very reason why so many people never lived their real and true destiny though they got to a certain comfortable destination!

Heaven is a place where all the dogs you've ever loved come to greet you.

It is an unwritten rule of life that when you are in acute pain and have no one to console you, someone, from somewhere, will emerge in your life to offer you comfort. However, ‘that’ someone will vanish from the scene once you begin to regain grip on your life, leaving you with another sense of loss to nurse.

You have to do some thinking and know who you are, and then you have to resist compromising your truth for the comfort of others.

Silent. So it should be. You have no place in this world, Luthiel. And there is no other.' Zalos reached out and lifted a few strands of her hair. 'Bright songs and the magic of hope are but a dangerous illusion. The fake comfort of witches charms.

I think of these desert years of mine, not of my choosing. Maybe if it were all smooth and comfortable, if my pride and professionalism were defining life for me, God's steel-quiet, penetrating word would have been lost in the babble and sheen of success.

You see, because [Norfolk is] stuck out here on the east, on this hump jutting into the sea, it's not on the way to anywhere. People going north and south, they bypass it altogether. For that reason, it's a peaceful corner of England, rather nice. But it's also something of a lost corner.'Someone claimed after the lesson that Miss Emily had said Norfolk was England's 'lost corner' because that was were all the lost property found in the country ended up.Ruth said one evening, looking out at the sunset, that 'when we lost something precious, and we'd looked and looked and still couldn't find it, then we didn't have to be completely heartbroken. We still had that last bit of comfort, thinking one day, when we were grown up, and we were free to travel the country, we could always go and find it again in Norfolk.

Not everything.” Lily takes a deep breath and begins to pace the room. “Not everything, because you aren’t. It may feel like you are, and I totally get it, I really do. The world feels like it’s crumbling around you, and it makes you feel like you’re broken too, but, Jules, you aren’t. You are more than this, you’re more than this, this- stupid planet, this stupid country. They’re reacting to what they think you are, but it doesn’t make it true.” She preaches like it hurts her, and I recognize in the back of my mind that this is what she hasn’t told herself yet. And still she offers it to me.

There are many ways of attaining the various levels of human bliss. But one of the highest states of mental, spiritual and physical happiness is readily reached by way of a good meal, pleasant company, and easy seats by a good log fire. (Preferably there should be a vague impression of cold weather in the night outside your cosy room) The cares of the world are lost . There is a magical presence . You feel love for all humanity. Every remark made by your friend is a precious pearl of wisdom, and everything you say , encouraged by the warm smiles of your companion, is the essence of all your years of struggle and experience. You can suddenly recall incidents of the past, vivid-ly, and they take on a meaning which they never had before.

The proper way is lost to me; my compass spins. I therefore give my entire attention to those works that seem to me most incorruptible: the application of heat, the proportion of seasoning, the arrangement of a plate. When robbed of all pretensions and aspirations, with no proper home nor any knowledge of what discord tomorrow brings, I still may have a pocketful of dignity. The Roman pomp and raiment have fallen away, and I see at last the glory of washed feet and shared bread.

Dare to be competent. Competency is what makes everyone remain at peace when things are being handled by you. Watch yourself if everyone feels uncomfortable just because it’s you doing it.

In changing times, question everything you take for granted.

It is a comfort to hear the words of God in times of stress.

Let us agree that we are marrying so we can go on quarreling in the greatest comfort and convenience. Oh, please, Althea, look at me. Do say yes.

I do not envy those who live a comfortable life.

... one may live in a big house and yet have no comfort.

When I harvest my life right up to the edges, I have collected every last kernel of blessing.

Injustice is a cold, unrelenting reality. It can be tempting for us to use our comfort to ignore injustice or rationalize it away. But God would have us join His work.