David Paul Kirkpatrick Quotes

Then an odd thing happened. Britney put her finger on the ridge of the painted glass and rubbed it. It made a perfect noise. The kind of noise that goes on and on as a beautiful noise does once it has wrung the ear. It was the chord of the wild sea.

This dog, who shall be under your care, belongs to the best of humankind's creation. For man transformed that which he feared into something which could love him. The dog, Theo, is the great witness to the one truth. There is but the one truth. Four words like my tale. The truth is this: Love triumphs over fear.

Tears are another river that takes us home. We become alive with tears. There isn't a chance to return to sleep when we are weeping.

I no longer belong to your ways. My religion is love. Every heart is my church.

The marriage bond is more than a civil contract. It is a reward for loving well.

For in the sorrow, there is also our happiness.

I have always quested and still do for the Holy Grail, but I stopped looking in the earthen caves and in the stars. I started questing through the valleys and mountains of my own soul.

All the forgotten beauty of his twenty-nine years poured over Theo. The beauty of such memory filled him. He watched as the white cat with the electric-blue eyes turned away. There, in front of the cat, stood the bright bridge, the tie between the immense eternities, of time before birth, of time after death. The ghosts of the yet-to-be-born and the ghosts of the dead both hovered amidst the white-breasted nuthatches poking their pecking beaks into the snow, searching for seed.

The world is my nation. Humanity is my family. To do good is my spiritual praxis.

Through science, she could reach anyone at anytime around the world, but no one seemed to know what to say.

She brought a chicken from the coop to the chopping block. She kissed the hen's beak in gratitude, knowing the hen would nourish many youngsters through her sacrifice.

After the blessing, Oota Dabun took an ax to the hen's neck. The death was instant. Painless. Such is the mercy that comes from the slayer who knows one day he or she shall also be slain.

I am a follower of Jesus and a student of the Buddha.

There they were walking together in the same direction, holding hands. That's what love can do. Love makes it better.

This darkness will not last forever. You'll see. Eventually, there will be stars.

Where they had once ambled alone, they now walked together home.

Every time, Love pushed down the door where her loneliness lived. The Music came and sealed the chamber of her heart. She was filled with clear sweetness that was there from the start.

Sometimes there were troubles but no one can be a hero without the heart being torn open.

Darkness is not forever, eventually there will be stars.

Small as a pea. Wider than the sea. This is where you and I came to be.

All life is sacred! Even the blessed earth you take into your mouth.

I am all for science, but science can never tell us why we find the stars so beautiful.

In the river swam the gleaming fish, which were meant for water, just as humankind is meant for love.

Courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is a determination that there is something more important than fear.

Neither train nor plane, neither GPS nor human caress can take you to the address of happiness.

We love against the night, burning like stars against the darkness of bread and circuses.

One day, all those who love in the society of Auld Lang Syne shall meet again. In the New City of the Burning Heart, there, the veil will drop. The arc of the seas shall finally know the skies. Day and night shall end. The clock tower will crumble. Time shall fly to the place of no more. For we were born for meaning. We were born to love. There, we shall all be together with all the lovelies ever known who chose mercy and kindness amidst the forget-me-nots and the countless stars.

When in doubt, look to Jesus.

Though we cannot see the heart, we can see the life.

She saw the scarlet thread of her lips, the light in her eyes, the family through their love, their children running barefoot in a fresh field.

It was a love that was not a contract but an affection of the soul.

The river was beautiful and wise. There were the two of them being happy in a new way. For here, there was no man, no woman, no master, no yellow, no black, no white. We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

Through all people, the Music of Love would pour, bringing light to the swords that sped through the darkness. And the light of their blades would lead the constellations to their destination.

Heroes do not dwell in a time of peace; heroes are hardened in a kiln against the sorrows. Their troubles sharpen the blade and make it gleaming. The glint becomes a brightness that is raised high on a hill, allowing women and men to see beyond themselves. For light swallows darkness. Truth buries death. Heroes are not born. They are filled by Music.

Of all the guile! How can you be objective? You have no perspective! You're only 16!

They learned to live contently with small things, to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion, to be worthy not respectable, and to be rich not wealthy. They let the sacred and unconscious bloom amidst the common, rendering it all extraordinary.

Where are you, oh heart, which I loved from the start? Did you ever arrive? How long must we stay apart?

There is peace in play.

We must only believe.

For happy are the merciful for they shall, too, know mercy.

I have lived a big life. For that I am grateful.

But as one disengages from it and grows more reflective and less involved in the day-to-day grind, I think it's possible to discover wisdom, born of experience and thankfulness. You must " swallow the shadow" i.e. the fear of death. You must let go of the image of the fit-body and the triumph of your ego-place in the overculture.

I think, if you can do that, this "good age" as I like to call it, can be full of radiant inspiration and tender memory. For in all it's contradiction, somewhere, in the puzzle of life, is incredible beauty. And who does not want to know beauty through their remembering?

When they would return to one another from their solitariness, they returned gently as dew comes to the morning grass.

We are strangers to our own lives, setting out in the dark to look for the adobe of Love which we were meant to know, guided by the Music that wants us to see.

Master the dog and you shall master yourself.

What good are we if we can't imagine?

Oh come, 'though you have broken your promises a hundred times…Come home, stranger and alien, come home to me….Come home, space traveler, lover of leaving for I am here...

Their wedding night was at a little hotel in Paris. There were walk up steps and a lovely view. And all was well for these two.

You are the apple of Love's eye.

Since that night you walked through my dreams, the world is full of magic things.

He tossed a word like a ball, never letting it fall. Instead it swam in the air, without care, strung together with an art that came straight from his heart.

For human beings must be served, not exploited, honored, not manipulated.

She became the bad company that she kept.

Light swallows darkness. Compassion eats fear. And life is romance as well as science.

God requires solitude and quiet – this is part of the way He instructs us to pray to Him. We are obligated through our Love to worship Him as He sees fit. This is not the law. This is the language of Love: we love Him in the way He chooses for us to Love Him.

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of Love. Along that river is the tree of heaven.

The devout life does not solely entail living as a monk or ascetic, though that is fine. The devout life requires bringing God into all things.

Because you tred upon my dreams, the world is made of magic things.

Quiet breathed like some darkening monster at the window of Theo's mind
He could not say "bad dog."
He could not say "good boy."
He could not say anything.
.

What are those glorious dots? Those, dear one, are forget-me-nots!

And in the fall, the cold would wither that which was known, scattering new seed. In the spring, that which had been sleeping awoke and a new season of beauty began. For Life seeks life and builds a bridge across the darkest valley.

It is easy to kill a demon. It is much harder to kill a man.

They were two hands holding one heart.