Denying The Flesh Quotes

Everytime you're denying the flesh, you're feeding and making the spirit stronger. ~ Jeanette Coron

A kinsman in trouble had to be saved, not blamed; anger against a brother was felt in the flesh, not in the bone. ~ Chinua Achebe

True listening is never self-effacement. We bring the whole self to the process, rather than denying self. When we truly listen, we aren't just waiting for someone else to decide something so we can get on with things, or so we don't have to decide for ourselves. We aren't giving away our own powers to be seen and heard. When we listen, first we listen to the parts of ourselves that are curious, in avoidance, afraid, angry, or proud. Then we can take a breath and sink, allowing those parts some space alongside the spaciousness of not knowing. ~ T. Thorn Coyle

But selfishness can take on many disguises. It can also be about defending and trying to prove your own belief system while denying there could be value in the beliefs of others. ~ Karlyle Tomms

God is so pure that if we were to behold Him within the context of our natural bodies, we would be destroyed because of the impurity of sin in our flesh that was genetically passed down to us through the sin of Adam and Eve. God purifies, or makes purely holy, everything He touches. That's right; the purification process of His total presence would destroy our natural bodies completely, because no good thing is in us. Isn't that a mystery? But then, it's a mystery to me how He made evergreens to stay green perpetually, or how fish spawn, or how birds sing so beautifully. We cannot put God in a box, or try to intellectualize His every facet. We would just sound pompous. ~ Marion Green

He raised his arm to strike me. At that very moment, [my daughter] Meiping's cat, Fluffy, came through the kitchen door, jumped on the man's leg from behind, and sank his teeth into the flesh of the man's calf. ~ Nien Cheng

So age after age - will it be soon, O Lord? -

Beneath the scalpel of nature and art,

Our spirit screams, our flesh depletes itself,

Giving birth to an organ for the sixth sense.

("The Sixth Sense") ~ Nikolay S. Gumilev

Fierce midnights and famishing morrows,
And the loves that complete and control
All the joys of the flesh, all the sorrows
That wear out the soul. ~ Algernon Charles Swinburne

It is painful - there is no denying it - to interpret radiant things from the shadow-side, and thus in a measure reduce them to their origins in dreary filth. But it seems to me to be an imperfection in things of beauty, and a weakness in man, if an explanation from the shadow-side has a destructive effect. ~ C. G. Jung

I don't think that the flesh is necessarily treacherous, evil, bad. It is cantankerous, and it is independent. The idea of independence is the key. It really is like colonialism. The colonies suddenly decide that they can and should exist with their own personality and should detach from the control of the mother country. At first the colony is perceived as being treacherous. It's a betrayal. Ultimately, it can be seen as the separation of a partner that could be very valuable as an equal rather than as something you dominate. ~ David Cronenberg

A shared choice movement sees the fetus as the genes of a woman and the genes of a man; the flesh of the woman, the flesh of the man; the bone of a woman, the bone of a man; the responsibility of a woman, the responsibility of a man; the rights of a woman, the rights of a man. It desires a transition to equality. ~ Warren Farrell

The flesh covers the bones, and makes the spirit naked. ~ Anthony Liccione

And he wondered, suddenly, what sort of divide it created between them, that he knew pieces of her that she had never shared with him - facts and stories and moments and memories to which she had no idea he was privy. He had collected them for so long, denying to himself that this acquisition was anything more than casual amusement, when in fact it was zealous, and jelaous besides; diwowning as accidental the fact that he never forgot a single remark she made, or that others made about her, and that he approved of these other people, or disdained them, according to their treatment of her. Such a lopsided intimacy existed between him and her. Inevitably, it created a chasm whose depth neither of them could know until they tried to chart it. Would this chasm prove impossible to bridge? ~ Meredith Duran

I'm used to everything digital - the pictures, the avatars of the person, the profiles - so when I get to see someone in the flesh, it's really nice. ~ Michelle Phan

To follow implies not only the denying of one's own clarity, investigation, integrity and honesty , but it also implies that your motive in following, your motive is a reward . ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti

Since the Word became flesh (John 1.14), heaven and earth remain indissolubly joined. ~ Stephen S. Smalley

The scar said - that which is written in the flesh is irrefutable. This is the mark of a man. This is what it takes. ~ Brian Turner

Lets say from the first moment of my life, everything's always been about me and nothing else, including apocalypse and chaos; let's say even apocalypse and chaos have been conceits of my psyche and bad faith
this assumes I ever kept any kind of faith at all, bad or otherwise ... Let's say I'm faithlessness made flesh, the modern age's leap of faith stopped dead in its tracks, fucking around with apocalypse and chaos only because in some broken part of me, among any wreckage of honor or altruism or commitment of compassion, or the bits and pieces of moral vanity, I really believed the abyss was always just the playground of my imagination, and I was its bully. ~ Steve Erickson

Welcome my new paranoia, if you are not my reality, so where the hell is the fucking reality!?!?! To be or not to be?! this is the paranoia of my sweet dreams. So you are more than welcome to my paradox, to my mind, to my existence. Consume from my brains flesh. There is no ending of this portion for you. My mind is the Prometheus of the time. Endless resource for paranoia. ~ Fereidoon Yazdi

I bite off the fingers and spit them out. Lord Loss screams obligingly. One of the snakes digs its fangs into my bald skull and rips out a chunk of flesh. I snatch the snake from its heartless home and chew its head off. I'm starting to enjoy this biting business. ~ Darren Shan

Life is a phenomenon sui generis, a primal fact in its own right, like energy. Cut flesh or wood how you like, hack at them in a baffled fury - you cannot find life itself, you can only see what it built out of the lifeless dust. ~ Donald C. Peattie

Then shouts from the direction of the doorway. I started to black out, kneeing him in the crotch to no effect and clawing in panic at his hands, the flesh sloughing off under my nails.

Then suddenly he straightened, and looked toward the door.

Schubert came charging through, his service revolver raised. Two more officers came right behind.

He whirled away from them as if to hide his ruined face. But he didn't hide it from me! He looked at me with what passed for a fixed and hideous grin, although it might have been the death rictus of his facial muscles. His voice was like a tinny rasp, hollow and unreal.

"When the world starts to chew itself up alive, and spits out its own guts... be it on your conscience, Mr. Kolchak!"

He staggered away. Schubert was yelling for me to stop him. I made a grab for his coat but it came off in my hand. The acid.

He bolted for what had been an outside window, now boarded up, and smashed through it.

We could hear his wail all the way down. And a distant, echoing clatter of falling wood... and glass... and bones. ~ Jeff Rice

My spirit is willing to do what is right; and my flesh, I hope, is strong enough to accomplish the will of Heaven ~ Charlotte Bronte

There is a restlessness unspoken unfelt before, restlessness to throw myself into something significant, I can only imagine and I wish I could feel the claim, the passion of being owned, desire of being wanted, urge to b lost controllably, it is being vulnerable and there is no denying to it, but go ahead with it anyway; till the time it makes you feel alive, taste passion, taste emotion and make love. ~ Pushpa Rana

As long as there are people in education making excuses for failure, cursing future generations with a culture of low expectations, denying children access to the best that has been thought and written, because Nemo and the Mister Men are more relevant, the battle needs to be joined. ~ Michael Gove

Just as sex is a God-given instinct for the prolongation of the human race, so the desire for property as a prolongation of one's ego is a natural right sanctioned by natural law. A person is free on the inside because he can call his soul his own; he is free on the outside because he can call property his own. Internal freedom is based upon the fact that "I am"; external freedom is based on the fact that "I have." But just as the excesses of flesh produce lust, for lust is sex in the wrong place, so there can be a deordination of the desire for property until it becomes greed, avarice, and capitalistic aggression. ~ Fulton J. Sheen

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
But this eternal blazon must not be
To ears of flesh and blood.
List, list, O list! ~ William Shakespeare

Live in Christ, die in Christ, and the flesh need not fear death. ~ John Knox

Tonight, I went to look for cypripediums at the florist, and with them I decorated my friend Jerome, whose flesh already complements the subtleties of their orchid-green, brown, and violet sulphurs. Both have the same plump brilliance - as if sticky - both achieve that triumphant state of a substance at its peak - at the extreme accomplishment of itself - that precedes effervescence and purification.

Stretched out on his side, Jerome seemed to be sleeping, his sex introduced into the calyx of a cypripedium, whose liquor inundated him, while a cascade of lively flowery odours escaped from the swarthy bruises that marbleised his rose-coloured secret. ~ Gabrielle Wittkop

She had a horror he would die at night.
And sometimes when the light began to fade
She could not keep from noticing how white
The birches looked - and then she would be afraid,
Even with a lamp, to go about the house
And lock the windows; and as night wore on
Toward morning, if a dog howled, or a mouse
Squeaked in the floor, long after it was gone
Her flesh would sit awry on her. By day
She would forget somewhat, and it would seem
A silly thing to go with just this dream
And get a neighbor to come at night and stay.
But it would strike her sometimes, making tea:
_She had kept that kettle boiling all night long, for company._ ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

Why all this insistence on the senses? Because in order to convince your reader that he is THERE, you must assault each of his senses, in turn, with color, sound, taste, and texture. If your reader feels the sun on his flesh, the wind fluttering his shirt sleeves, half your fight is won. The most improbable tales can be made believable, if your reader, through his senses, feels certain that he stands at the middle of events. He cannot refuse, then, to participate. The logic of events always gives way to the logic of the senses. ~ Ray Bradbury

Elegance and smartness is the sexiest thing woman can have, not just the flesh ~ Baris Gencel

Mugabe had a very strange quality about him. He was dapper. He had the strangest skin - it looks very shiny, but it's not oily. It's stretched very finely over his flesh. His eyes have layers of cyan crystals in them. It was a quiet, dark moment when I took his picture. ~ Platon

The Opera ghost really existed. He was not, as was long believed, a
creature of the imagination of the artists, the superstition of the
managers, or a product of the absurd and impressionable brains of the
young ladies of the ballet, their mothers, the box-keepers, the
cloak-room attendants or the concierge. Yes, he existed in flesh and
blood, although he assumed the complete appearance of a real phantom;
that is to say, of a spectral shade. ~ Gaston Leroux

He pushed himself a fraction deeper, still exploring his lazy rhythm. I could feel his thickness beginning to stretch me. The sensation was dizzying, and my vision blurred at the edges.
"Is this what my Roses wants from me?" he whispered in my ear, biting the soft flesh of my lobe between his teeth. "Say it to me."
"Aye, warrior," I gasped. ~ Juliette Miller

God knows where every particle of the handful of dust has gone; he has marked in his book the wandering of every one of its atoms. He hath death so open before His view, that He can bring all these together, bone to bone, and clothe them with the very flesh that robed them in the days of yore, and make them live again. ~ Charles Spurgeon

I want porridge!" she said, exasperated. "That's all. I wanted a bunny before and 'it' appeared, and now I want porridge. The way my aunts used to make it on cold mornings. Warm and buttery, with rich toasted acorns in it."
"Acorns? Really? That sounds... um... I mean, it's an interesting gastronomic choice."
She rolled her eyes. "We lived in the middle of a 'forest,' Royal Prince. It was what we had. And a real treat in the middle of winter."
Then she proceeded to ignore him.
She closed her eyes and cupped her hands. She prayed and wished and imagined and begged.
Phillip stayed politely silent- though he did look around, sigh a little, and do all sorts of other things to obviously fret over the passage of time.
She tried to call up the feel of the wooden bowl in her hands: it warmed almost like flesh where the wood was thin and the heat of her fingers and the hot porridge mingled. She summoned the smell, a mix of dairy and things of the earth and the tall green grass and the woods. Sometimes there was even a dollop of honey on top.
She thought so hard she felt like she had to go to the privy.
Her concentration faltered for a moment when she distractedly wondered if that ever happened to Maleficent when she was performing an incantation. But after a few seconds she was back in her dream of porridge.
Time passed...
"GOOD LORD!"
The smell in her head was giving to a real scent in her nose now, with even that faint, almost ' ~ Liz Braswell

My pleasure
was in the strength of my back,
in my noble shoulders, the cool
smooth flesh cylinders of my arms. ~ Denise Levertov