Center Of My Being Quotes

Leaving home is living as though I do not yet have a home, and must look far and wide to find one. Home is the center of my being, where I can hear the voice that says, "You are my beloved. On you my favor rests," the same voice that gave life to the first Adam and spoke to Jesus, the second Adam. The same voice that speaks to all the children of God and sets them free to live in the midst of a dark world while remaining in the light. I have heard that voice. It has spoken to me in the past and continues to speak to me now. It is the never-interrupted voice of love speaking from eternity and giving life and love wherever it is heard. When I hear that voice, I know that I am home with God and have nothing to fear. As the beloved of my heavenly Father, "I can walk in the valley of darkness: no evil would I fear." As the beloved I can "cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils." Having "received without charge," I can "give without charge." As the Beloved, I can confront, console, admonish, and encourage without fear of rejection or need for affirmation. As the Beloved I can suffer persecution without desire for revenge and receive praise without using it as a proof of my goodness. As the Beloved I can be tortured and killed without ever having to doubt that the love that is given to me is stronger than death. As the Beloved I am free to live and give life, free also to die while giving life.
Jesus has made it clear to me that the same voice that h ~ Henri J.M. Nouwen

In the center of my being, I am floating with the waves of time in the ocean of light. ~ Debasish Mridha

A process for discernment: God is my ultimate source of truth and wisdom, and dwells forever at the center of my being. Therefore, any thought, emotion, or action that takes me further from my center can be neither truthful, nor wise. ~ Bill Crawford

My beliefs are the center of my being. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

Deep at the center of my being there is an infinite well of love. ~ Louise L. Hay

My crotch is the center of my body, but not the center of my being. That would be my asshole. ~ Jarod Kintz

Hugo has been infinitely tender with me, but while he talks of June I think of our hands locked together. She does not reach the same sexual center of my being that man reaches; she does not touch that. What, then, has she moved in me? I have wanted to possess her as if I were a man, but I have also wanted her to love me with the eyes, the hands, the senses that only women have. It is a soft and subtle penetration. ~ Anais Nin

I had never before considered the possibility that I might never even want a drink yet still be left with this horrible, throbbing vacancy in the center of my being, right where my mental health and contentment were supposed to be. ~ Augusten Burroughs

We do it for those tiny moments when the world opens up and we're no longer alone. Those moments when we realize that we aren't the center of the universe, but to one single person, we're their entire existence. We are what they live for and we matter to them more than anything. No matter how hard we get knocked down, we stand back up, and we face the darkness that's inside us and we raise our fist at it and tell it, not today. You won't have me yet. I won't let you take that last bit of my soul. ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Getting comfortable, he slipped off his suit jacket and made one last call for the night.

"So? Is Jordan on board?" Davis asked.

"Of course. Eckhart's not going to slip away that easily. But there's a catch." Nick eased onto the bed. "I'm calling in that favor you owe me. The one that just tripled in magnitude because of this mess you roped me into."

Davis sounded surprised. And a little suspicious. "What kind of favor?"

"Do we still have Agent Griegs in play?" Nick asked.

"Yes. Why?"

"This will involve him, too."

Davis sighed. "I'm not going to like this favor, am I?"

"Probably not," Nick said. "But I debated between this and having you call my mother to explain that it's your fault I can't make it to her sixtieth birthday party. You pick. But I should warn you: my mother is Italian. New York Italian, which is like being five hundred percent Italian."

Davis swore under his breath. "The hell with that. I'll get ahold of Griegs. ~ Julie James

It's my turn next, and I realize then that I never turned in the name of my escort--because I hadn't planned on being here. I glance around wildly for Ryder, but he's nowhere to be seen, swallowed up by the sea of people in cocktail dresses and suits.
Crap. I thought he realized that escorting me on court was part of the deal, once I'd agreed to go. I guess he'd figured it'd be easier on me, what with the whole Patrick thing, if I was alone onstage. But I don't want to be alone. I want Ryder with me. By my side, supporting me.
Always.
I finally spot him in the crowd--it's not too hard, since he's a head taller than pretty much everyone else--and our eyes meet. My stomach drops to my feet--you know, that feeling you get on a roller coaster right after you crest that first hill and start plummeting toward the ground.
Oh my God, this can't be happening. I've fallen in love with Ryder Marsden, the boy I'm supposed to hate. And it has nothing to do with his confession, his declaration that he loves me. Sure, it might have forced me to examine my feelings faster than I would have on my own, but it was there all along, taking root, growing, blossoming.
Heck, it's a full-blown garden at this point.
"Our senior maid is Miss Jemma Cafferty!" comes the principal's voice. "Jemma is a varsity cheerleader, a member of the Wheelettes social sorority, the French Honor Club, the National Honor Society, and the Peer Mentors. She's escorted tonight by…ahem, sorry. ~ Kristi Cook

I don't think that just because a lot of my music has a quieter aesthetic; [it] excludes me from achieving that in a live setting, from being dangerous or something. ~ J. Tillman

I'll ride my bike all the stinkin' way to school for the rest of eternity if it means being with her.
-Bryce ~ Wendelin Van Draanen

Novels begin and end with, consist of, and indeed in one sense are nothing but voices. So reading is learning to listen sensitively, and to tune in accurately, to varying frequencies and a developing programme.
From the opening words a narrative voice begins to create
its own characteristic personality and sensibility, whether it belongs to an 'author' or a 'character'. At the same time a reader is being created, persuaded to become the particular kind of reader the book requires. A relationship develops, which becomes the essential basis of the experience. In the modulation of the fictive voice,
finally, through the creation of 'author' and 'reader* and their relationship, there is a definition of the nature and status of the experience, which will always imply a particular idea of ordering the world.
So much is perhaps familiar enough, and a useful rhetoric of Voice' has developed. Yet I notice in my students and myself, when its vocabulary is in play, a tendency to become rather too abstract or technical, and above all too spatial and static. Perhaps we need to remind ourselves what it can be like to listen to close friends,
talking animatedly and seriously in everyday experience, in order to make sure that a vocabulary which often points only to broad strategies does not tempt us to underplay the extraordinary resourcefulness,
variety and fluctuation of the novelist's voice. ~ Ian Gregor

My horizon on humanity is enlarged by reading the writers of poems, seeing a painting, listening to some music, some opera, which has nothing at all to do with a volatile human condition or struggle or whatever. It enriches me as a human being. ~ Wole Soyinka

Ah, my young lad, powerful lord of awareness, you will not be freed merely by my explaining and your hearing such things. Examine and analyze the fundamental nature (ngang-tsul [ངང་ ཙུལ་]) of what I have set forth, so that direct experience is elicited from the depths of your being, and stabilize your ongoing understanding and awareness. ~ Dudjom Lingpa

A vast space naturally raises in my thoughts the idea of an Almighty Being. ~ Joseph Addison

I play guitar, the ukulele and the piano. I grew up on a mountain in Tennessee, and we had 'The Mountain Opry,' where anyone could just get up on stage to perform. It was just about the soul and heart of music. My upbringing was less about being great and more about just doing what you love. It was always for joy. ~ Rachel Boston

My fellow, you strike me at present as being situated in the moon, kingdom of dream, province of illusion, capital: Soap-Bubble. ~ Victor Hugo

But being around so much love has managed to thaw my frozen parts into something human. I feel human. Like maybe I could be part of this world. Like maybe I don't have to be a monster. Maybe I'm not a monster. Maybe things can change. ~ Tahereh Mafi

Don't be jealous of my genius. ~ Derek Landy

I learn a lot from acting, but it's not my natural way. I can't help but write; I do it all the time. It's a condition of being for me. ~ Mary Stuart Masterson

I stand here on the summit of the mountain. I lift my head and I spread my arms. This, my body and spirit, this is the end of the quest. I wished to know the meaning of all things. I am the meaning. I wished to find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and the sanction. Neither am I the means to any end others may wish to accomplish. I am not a tool for their use. I am not a servant of their needs. I am not a sacrifice on their alters. ~ Ayn Rand

DEAR MISS MANNERS:
I a tired of being treated like a child. My father says it's because I am a child
I am twelve-and-a-half years old
but it still isn't fair. If I go into a store to buy something, nobody pays any attention to me, or if they do, it's to say, "Leave that alone," "Don't touch that," although I haven't done anything. My money is as good as anybody's, but because I am younger, they feel they can be mean to me. It happens to me at home, too. My mother's friend who comes over after dinner sometimes, who doesn't have any children of her own and doesn't know what's what, likes to say to me, "Shouldn't you be in bed by now,dear?" when she doesn't even know what my bedtime is supposed to be. Is there any way I can make these people stop?
GENTLE READER:
Growing up is the best revenge. ~ Judith Martin

Readers of fiction read, I think, for a deeper embrace of the world, of reality. And that's brave. I never get over being thankful for that - for the courage of my readers. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

One of my goals from really early on was that if I was ever fortunate enough to be successful in music, I would want to stay the same person and the same songwriter. ~ Taylor Swift

How few there are who gather the gifts which lie in profusion at their feet: how many there are, who, in wilful waywardness, turn their eyes away from them and complain with a wail that they have not that which I have given them; many of them defiantly repudiate not only My gifts, but Me also, Me, the Source of all blessings and the Author of their being. ~ Mahatma Gandhi

I'm all about your mindset, being focused, staying positive, being optimistic, and knowing that these are all aspects of my life that I love and enjoy. ~ Kyla Pratt

This is roughly the worldview for Neon Genesis Evangelion. This is a worldview drenched in a vision of pessimism. A worldview where the story starts only after any traces of optimism have been removed.
[...]
They say, "To live is to change." I started this production with the wish that once the production complete, the world, and the heroes would change. That was my "true" desire. I tried to include everything of myself in Neon Genesis Evangelion-myself, a broken man who could do nothing for four years. A man who ran away for four years, one who was simply not dead. Then one thought. "You can't run away," came to me, and I restarted this production. It is a production where my only thought was to burn my feelings into film. I know my behavior was thoughtless, troublesome, and arrogant. But I tried. I don't know what the result will be. That is because within me, the story is not yet finished. I don't know what will happen to Shinji, Misato or Rei. I don't know where life will take them. Because I don't know where life is taking the staff of the production. I feel that I am being irresponsible. But... But it's only natural that we should synchronize ourselves with the world within the production. I've taken on a risk: "It's just an imitation." And for now I can only write this explanation. But perhaps our "original" lies somewhere within there. ~ Hideaki Anno

There's a kind of mystery to our being and from my point of view, regarding my own parents and their parents, I'd as soon let it lie than find out who my mother's father was. ~ T.C. Boyle

The Coach's head was oblong with tiny slits that served as eyes, which drifted in tides slowly inward, as though the face itself were the sea or, in fact, a soup of macromolecules through which objects might drift, leaving in their wake, ripples of nothingness. The eyes - they floated adrift like land masses before locking in symmetrically at seemingly prescribed positions off-center, while managing to be so closely drawn into the very middle of the face section that it might have seemed unnecessary for there to have been two eyes when, quite likely, one would easily have sufficed. These aimless, floating eyes were not the Coach's only distinctive feature - for, in fact, connected to the interior of each eyelid by a web-like layer of rubbery pink tissue was a kind of snout which, unlike the eyes, remained fixed in its position among the tides of the face, arcing narrowly inward at the edges of its sharp extremities into a serrated beak-like projection that hooked downward at its tip, in a fashion similar to that of a falcon's beak. This snout - or beak, rather - was, in fact, so long and came to such a fine point that as the eyes swirled through the soup of macromolecules that comprised the man's face, it almost appeared - due to the seeming thinness of the pink tissue - that the eyes functioned as kinds of optical tether balls that moved synchronously across the face like mirror images of one another.

'I wore my lizard mask as I entered the tram, last evening, and ~ Ashim Shanker

In those moments, which were eternal I assure you, I had no location in the universe, nothing to grasp for that minimum of security which every creature needs merely to exist without suffering from the sensation that everything is spinning ever faster on a cosmic carousel with only endless blackness at the edge of that wheeling ride. I know that your condition differs from mine, and therefore you have no means by which to fully comprehend my ordeals just as I cannot fully comprehend yours. But I do acknowledge that both our conditions are unendurable, despite the doctor's second-hand platitude that nothing in this world is unendurable. I've even come to believe that the world itself, by its very nature, is unendurable. It's only our responses to this fact that deviate: mine being predominately a response of passive terror approaching absolute panic; yours being predominantly a response of gruesome obsessions that you fear you might act upon. ~ Thomas Ligotti

Even though I had a deep conviction that I was good at writing, and that in some way I already was a writer, this conviction was completely independent of my having ever written anything, or being able to imagine ever writing anything, that I thought anyone would like to read. ~ Elif Batuman

Here's the story of how Pluto lost its planetary status and was demoted to an ice ball in the outer solar system. It's also about my role in this at the Rose Center for Earth and Space at the American Museum of Natural History. ~ Neil DeGrasse Tyson

For the last year and a half, I went from being a crazy workout girl to sort of saying, "My body wants a little bit a of break." So I kind of stay with more simple stuff and taking walks and not being neurotic about working out and eating right. I started to enjoy life a little bit more. The only downside to that is there's that couple extra pounds and about 4,000 pregnancy rumors, but you know, other than that, it feels great. ~ Jennifer Aniston

And the other?" Braga asked.

"The other what?" The king looked back and forth between the two.

"The other reason you can't appoint Simon as chancellor," Leo reminded him.

"Oh." The king presented Braga with a wry smile. "Because I hate him. That's why he's such a pain. He really can't get in any worse with his king. So he needles me and revels in his position of being one of the most powerful and disliked nobles in the realm. Worst thing about it is," Amrath grumbled as he looked back out the window, "if I were to get into a scuffle with Warric, there are no two men I'd rather have at my side than Leo and Simon. It's true that he hates me. Nothing personal - he just hates everyone, really. I've never met a more disagreeable codpiece. But he loves the kingdom. And while he may be misguided, arrogant, and ambitious beyond reason, he's also tireless in his efforts to keep Melengar safe. That is why I appointed him lord high constable. I imagine there was a mass exodus of thieves and cutthroats the day of that announcement. But don't worry, once you get to know Simon better, you'll learn to truly despise him the way Leo and I do. ~ Michael J. Sullivan

I'm extremely proud of being Latin; it's a big part of my life. It's not something I outwardly promote, just like I don't outwardly promote that I have green eyes and blonde hair. It's a part of who I am. I love the richness of the culture I grew up within. ~ Joanna Garcia

Ah! The anguish, the vile rage, the despair
Of not being able to express
With a shout, an extreme and bitter shout,
The bleeding of my heart. ~ Fernando Pessoa

Particularly nauseous were the blank expressionless faces of people in trains and omnibuses; they seemed no more my fellow-creatures than dead bodies would be, so that I did not dare to travel unless I was assured of being alone. ~ H.G.Wells

The only still center of my life is Macbeth. To go back to doing this bloody, crazed, insane mass-murderer is a huge relief after trying to get my cell phone replaced. ~ Patrick Stewart

I tell Jack by accident. We're talking on the phone about unprotected sex, how it isn't good for people with our particular temperament, our anxiety like an incorrigible weed. He asks if I've had any sex that was "really stressful," and out the story comes, before I can even consider how to share it. Jack is upset. Angry, though not at me. I'm crying, even though I don't want to. It's not cathartic, or helping me prove my point. I still make joke after joke, but my tears are betraying me, making me appear clear about my pain when I'm not. Jack is in Belgium. It's late there, he's so tired, and I'd rather not be having this conversation this way. "It isn't your fault," he tells me, thinking it's what I need to hear. "There's no version of this where it's your fault." I feel like there are fifty ways it's my fault. I fantasized. I took the big pill and the small pill, stuffed myself with substances to make being out in the world with people my own age a little bit easier. To lessen the space between me and everyone else. I was hungry to be seen. But I also know that at no moment did I consent to being handled that way. I never gave him permission to be rough, to stick himself inside me without a barrier between us. I never gave him permission. In my deepest self I know this, and the knowledge of it has kept me from sinking. I curl up against the wall, wishing I hadn't told him. "I love you so much," he says. "I'm so sorry that happened." Then his voice changes, from pity to som ~ Lena Dunham

I'm so sorry," she says, and she's wringing her hands, looking away from me. "I'm so, so sorry."
I notice what she's wearing.
It's a dark-green dress with fitted sleeves; a simple cut made of stretch cotton that clings to the soft curves of her figure. It complements the flecks of green in her eyes in a way I couldn't have anticipated. It's one of the many dresses I chose for her. I thought she might enjoy having something nice after being caged as an animal for so long. And I can't quite explain it, but it gives me a strange sense of pride to see her wearing something I picked out myself.
"I'm sorry," she says for the third time.
I'm again struck by how impossible it is that she's here. In my bedroom. Staring at me without my shirt on. Her hair is so long it falls to the middle of her back; I have to clench my fists against this unbidden need to run my hands through it. She's so beautiful. ~ Tahereh Mafi

My sweetheart, my love, my love, my love - do you know what - all the happiness of the world, the riches, power and adventures, all the promises of religions, all the enchantment of nature and even human fame are not worth your two letters. It was a night of horror, terrible anguish, when I imagined that your undelivered letter, stuck at some unknown post office, was being destroyed like a sick little stray dog . . . But today it arrived - and now it seems to me that in the mailbox where it was lying, in the sack where it was shaking, all the other letters absorbed, just by touching it, your unique charm and that that day all Germans received strange wonderful letters - letters that had gone mad because they had touched your handwriting. The thought that you exist is so divinely blissful in itself that it is ridiculous to talk about the everyday sadness of separation - a week's, ten days' - what does it matter? since my whole life belongs to you. I wake at night and know that you are together with me, - I sense your sweet long legs, your neck through your hair, your trembling eyelashes - and then such happiness, such simmering bliss follows me in my dreams that I simply suffocate . . . ~ Vladimir Nabokov

It wasn't his touch that was making my insides feel strange. It was the look in his eyes. Passion. Passion for me. Passion for this moment. Passion for his music. Passion for life. Just passion. It was as if Kyle Hamilton's entire being was made of passion, and he was sending that passion straight into me. ~ Kelly Oram

I don't care what you think of Michael Vick - whether you think he's being mistreated or misused, or just think he's not that good, whatever. He can play for my team any day ~ Phil Simms

This is what you do to me, Jane," he said in a voice raw with hunger. He grabbed her hand to press it against him there. "I've desired you from the day we first met."
As his flesh moved beneath the stockinette, she swallowed. "I don't recall ever seeing you like this back then--all…big and thrusting. I think I would have noticed."
He choked back a laugh. "It's the sort of thing a gentleman generally takes great pains to keep his lady from seeing. But tonight you're making it difficult for me to behave."
"Good! I don't want you to behave. I want you to be wicked." She fondled him shamelessly. "With me."
A harsh breath escaped him. "You have no idea what being wicked entails."
"Then perhaps you should show me."
His eyes glinted in the lantern light and he growled, "Perhaps I should."
Next thing she knew, he was sweeping the tools and carriage lanterns off the table near them. Then he lifted her onto it and parted her thighs with his hands.
"This, my sweet, is wicked," he warned just before he knelt to place his mouth on the secret part of her that lay in the juncture of her thighs.
Shock gripped her. It had been one thing to have him touch her furtively beneath her skirts last night, but this blatant, outrageous--
"Ohh, Dom…" She clasped the edge of the table to keep from dissolving into a puddle. "That is..that is…"
"Wicked?" he asked hoarsely, his eyes dark with sinful promise.
She nodded. Her cheeks surely shone as ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Frank was by far the best kisser I'd ever had the pleasure to make out with. Being able to wrap his tongue around so many languages couldn't have hurt his skill of wrapping his tongue around mine. It felt like he controlled my whole body when he kissed me, his hands on my face, his fingers reaching the back of my head as we tried to consume each other, like only one of us could come out alive at the end. And his mouth tasted more like the sweet aroma of coffee than the bitter flavor. ~ Nicole Castle

Seen from the air, the male mind must look rather like the canals of Europe, with ideas being towed along well-worn towpaths by heavy-footed dray horses. There is never any doubt that they will, despite wind and weather, reach their destinations by following a simple series of connected lines.
But the female mind, even in my limited experience, seems more of a vast and teeming swamp, but a swamp that knows in an instant whenever a stranger
even miles away
has so much as dipped a single toe into her waters. People who talk about this phenomenon, most of whom know nothing whatsoever about it, call it woman's intuition. ~ Alan Bradley

On the whole I thought I liked having everything very tidy and calm all around me, and not being bothered to do things, and laughing at the kind of joke other people didn't think at all funny, and going for country walks, and not being asked to express opinions about things (like love, and isn't so-and-so peculiar?) ~ Stella Gibbons

I would wish my portraits to be of the people, not like them. Not having a look of the sitter, being them. ~ Lucian Freud

One of the manifestations of depression for me is that I lose my will. And I thereby lose my ability to focus. I don't think I'll ever have the day-to-day consistency in my performance that something like This American Life has. If I'm not depressed and I'm on and I can focus and I can think through something hard and without interruption and without existential emptiness that comes from depression, that gives me - not mania. But I exalt. I exalt in not being depressed. ~ Rachel Maddow

You know what I am going to say. I love you. What other men may mean when they use that expression, I cannot tell; what I mean is, that I am under the influence of some tremendous attraction which I have resisted in vain, and which overmasters me. You could draw me to fire, you could draw me to water, you could draw me to the gallows, you could draw me to any death, you could draw me to anything I have most avoided, you could draw me to any exposure and disgrace. This and the confusion of my thoughts, so that I am fit for nothing, is what I mean by your being the ruin of me. But if you would return a favourable answer to my offer of myself in marringe, you could draw me to any good - every good - with equal force. ~ Charles Dickens

( ... ) my preoccupation in a larger sense is the optimum man. The question of establishing an internal ecology, where the optimum liver works with the optimum spleen and the optimum eyeball and so forth. Now, when you get to the mind - not the brain, but the optimum mind - then you have the whole inner space idea; my conviction is that there's more room there than there is in outer space, in each individual human being. Love of course has a great deal to do with that, as a necessary coloration and adjunct to everything that we do - to love oneself, to love the parts of oneself, to love the interaction of the parts of oneself, and then the interaction of that whole organism with those of another person. Which is as good a definition of love as you can get, I think. ~ Theodore Sturgeon

So, Mr. Digence, home to visit the family?"

"That's right. My mother's folks are from Killarney."

"Oh, really?"

"O'Reilly, actually. But what's a vowel between friends?"

"Very good. You should be on the stage."

"It's funny you should mention that."

The passport officer groaned. Ten more minutes and his shift would have been over. "I was being sarcastic, actually. . ."

"Because my friend, Mr. McGuire, and I are also doing a stint in the Christmas pantomime. It's Snow White. I'm Doc, and he's Dopey."

The passport officer forced a smile. "Very good. Next."

Mulch spoke for the entire line to hear. "Of course, Mr. McGuire there was born to play Dopey, if you catch my drift."

Loafers lost it right there in the terminal. "You little freak!" he screamed. "I'll kill you! You'll be my next tattoo! You'll be my next tattoo!"

Much tutted as Loafers disappeared beneath half a dozen security guards.

"Actors," he said. "Highly strung. ~ Eoin Colfer

I tell you, because military training is not publicly recognised by the state, you must not make that an excuse for being a whit less careful in attending to it yourself. For you may rest assured that there is no kind of struggle, apart from war, and no undertaking in which you will be worse off by keeping your body in better fettle.

"For in everything that men do the body is useful; and in all uses of the body it is of great importance to be in as high a state of physical efficiency as possible. Why, even in the process of thinking, in which the use of the body seems to be reduced to a minimum, it is matter of common knowledge that grave mistakes may often be traced to bad health.

"And because the body is in a bad condition, loss of memory, depression, discontent, insanity often assail the mind so violently as to drive whatever knowledge it contains clean out of it. But a sound and healthy body is a strong protection to a man, and at least there is no danger then of such a calamity happening to him through physical weakness: on the contrary, it is likely that his sound condition will serve to produce effects the opposite of those that arise from bad condition. And surely a man of sense would submit to anything to obtain the effects that are the opposite of those mentioned in my list.

"Besides, it is a disgrace to grow old through sheer carelessness before seeing what manner of man you may become by developing your bodily strength and beauty t ~ Xenophon Memorabilia. 371BC Marchant Translation