His Name Is Moonlight Quotes

I felt empowered by him, as if his very existence manipulated the balance of my nature from a shy little girl to wonder woman. ~ Kellie Thacker

Peter. Peter Kavinsky. Even saying his name is a remembered pleasure, something to savor, like a piece of chocolate dissolving on my tongue. ~ Jenny Han

My name...my name is Mary. I'm here with a friend.'
Rhage stopped breathing. His heart skipped a beat and then slowed. "Say that again,' he whispered.
'Ah, my name is Mary Luce. I'm a friend of Bella's...We came here with a boy, with John Matthew. We were invited.'
Rhage shivered, a balmy rush blooming out all over his skin. The musical lilt of her voice, the rhythm of her speech, the sound of her words, it all spread through him, calming him, comforting him. Chaining him sweetly.
He closed his eyes. 'Say something else.'
'What?' she asked, baffled.
'Talk. Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.'
She was silent, and he was about to demand that she speak when she said, 'You don't look well. Do you need a doctor?'
He found himself swaying. The words didn't matter. It was her sound: low, soft, a quiet brushing in his ears. He felt as if here being stroked on the inside of his skin.
'More,' he said, twisting his palm around to the front of her neck so he could feel the vibrations in her throat better.
'Could you... could you please let go of me?'
'No.' He brought his other arm up. She was wearing some kind of fleece, and he moved the collar aside, putting his hand on her shoulder so she couldn't get away from him. 'Talk.'
She started to struggle. 'You're crowding me.'
'I know. Talk.'
'Oh for God's sake, what do you want me to say?'
Even exasperated, her voice was beautiful. 'Anything.'
'Fine. Get you ~ J.R. Ward

Sins against a holy God; Sins against His righteous laws; Sins against His love, His blood; Sins against His name and cause; Sins immense as is the sea-From them all He cleanseth me. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

She glanced again at Caliban as she said, "You and Daffodil were very brave." "And the best part, Mama," Indio said, tugging her hand to get her attention, "the best part is Caliban spoke. Did you hear him? He shouted my name!" "What?" Lily stared at Indio's filthy little face and then back up at Caliban. She absently noted that he had a bleeding scratch on his cheek. That shout right before the accident - had that been him? ~ Elizabeth Hoyt

And at that very moment ladies in black garments, scores of them, are scattered throughout St. Louis de France church, kneeling or sitting or some standing at the various special shrines, their lips muttering prayers for similar requests for similar troubles in their own poor lives and if indeed the Lord seeth all and saw all that is going on and all the beseechment in His name in dark earth-churches throughout the kingdom of consciousness, it would be with pain He'd attend and bend His thoughts to it. ~ Jack Kerouac

Jacques was so impressed with the beauty of the curve known as a logarithmic spiral (Figure 37; the name was derived from the way in which the radius grows as we move around the curve clockwise) that he asked that this shape, and the motto he assigned to it: "Eadem mutato resurgo" (although changed, I rise again the same), be engraved on his tombstone.

The motto describes a fundamental property unique to the logarithmic spiral-it does not alter its shape as its size increases. This feature is known as self-similarity. Fascinated by this property, Jacques wrote that the logarithmic spiral "may be used as a symbol, either of fortitude and constancy in adversity, or of the human body, which after all its changes, even after death, will be restored to its exact and perfect self. ~ Mario Livio

Judging Pius by what he did not say, one could only damn him. With images of piles of skeletal corpses before his eyes; with women and young children compelled, by torture, to kill each other; with millions of innocents caged like criminals, butchered like cattle, and burned like trash - he should have spoken out. He had this duty, not only as pontiff, but as a person. After his first encyclical, he did reissue general distinctions between race-hatred and Christian love. Yet with the ethical coin of the Church, Pius proved frugal; toward what he privately termed "Satanic forces," he showed public moderation; where no conscience could stay neutral, the Church seemed to be. During the world's greatest moral crisis, its greatest moral leader seemed at a loss for words.

But the Vatican did not work by words alone. By 20 October, when Pius put his name to Summi Pontficatus, he was enmeshed in a war behind the war. Those who later explored the maze of his policies, without a clue to his secret actions, wondered why he seemed so hostile toward Nazism, and then fell so silent. But when his secret acts are mapped, and made to overlay his public words, a stark correlation emerges. The last day during the war when Pius publicly said the word "Jew" is also, in fact, the first day history can document his choice to help kill Adolf Hitler. ~ Mark Riebling

I kept traveling down the road. And everywhere it was the same. What was my name, who were my people? What was I supposed to say? That my father is the president, and my mother is his slave? ~ Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Truth is a Person; His name is Jesus. ~ Desiree M. Mondesir

Had it been the object or the intention of Jesus Christ to establish a new religion, he would undoubtedly have written the system himself, or procured it to be written in his life time. But there is no publication extant authenticated with his name. All the books called the New Testament were written after his death. He was a Jew by birth and by profession. ~ Thomas Paine

Hail Guru Ram Das and heal the world. It is His problem to heal. Your problem is to insert Him into it. You have nothing to worry about. If he doesn't heal, His Name will be spoiled-what's it to you? Most of the time you do not know what to do, true? There are so many times I don't know what to do. So, I insert Him into it. ~ Harbhajan Singh Yogi

Halt glared at his friend as the whistling continued.
'I had hoped that your new sense of responsibly would put an end to that painful shrieking noise you make between your lips' he said.
Crowley smiled. It was a beautiful day and he was feeling at peace with the world. And that meant he was more than ready to tease Halt 'It's a jaunty song'
'What's jaunty about it?' Halt asked, grim faced. Crowley made an uncertain gesture as he sought for an answer to that question.
'I suppose it's the subject matter' he said eventually. 'It's a very cheerful song. Would you like me to sing it for you?'
'N-' Halt began but he was too late, as Crowley began to sing. He had a pleasant tenor voice, in fact, and his rendering of the song was quite good. But to Halt it was as attractive as a rusty barn door squeaking.
'A blacksmith from Palladio, he met a lovely lady-o'
'Whoa! Whoa!' Halt said 'He met a lovely lady-o?' Halt repeated sarcastically 'What in the name of all that's holy is a lady-o?'
'It's a lady' Crowley told him patiently.
'Then why not sing 'he met a lovely lady'?' Halt wanted to know.
Crowley frowned as if the answer was blatantly obvious.
"Because he's from Palladio, as the song says. It's a city on the continent, in the southern part of Toscana.'
'And people there have lady-o's, instead of ladies?' Asked Halt
'No. They have ladies, like everyone else. But 'lady' doesn't rhyme with Palladio, does it? I could hardl ~ John Flanagan

Don't think about what he did before he met you, that doesn't matter. Sometimes in life you meet
one person that changes the way you think, alters your perception of life and nothing else matters apart
from them. I call them 'bada bing people'. Maybe you're that person, to him. Maybe you're the one
who's changed the way he thinks, altered his perception of life. Maybe, Lexy, his pet name for you is
more than a casual name- ~ Emma Hart

The man who is quite satisfied with the name of a Christian, without the life of a Christian will never see God nor anything at all until his eyes are divinely opened. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

The true essence of things is invisible to the eyes ... Our sensory organs love to lead us astray, and eyes are the most deceptive of all. We rely too heavily on them. We believe that we see the world around us, and yet it is only the surface that we perceive. We must learn to divine the true nature of things, their substance, and the eyes are rather a hindrance than a help in that regard. They distract us. We love to be dazzled. A person who relies too heavily on his eyes neglects his other senses
and I mean more than his hearing or sense of smell. I'm talking about the organ within us for which we have no name. Let us call it the compass of the heart. ~ Jan-Philipp Sendker

Satan; so call him now, his former name Is heard no more in heaven. ~ John Milton

Lee was very much his own person so it's impossible to know quite what he would have thought but part of the reason for me staying is that I believe he always wanted this to be a house that would be here forever, that he never wanted his name not to mean anything any more. And I want that too. I want Alexander McQueen to continue. Then, in a hundred years time, there will still be this house that he created, this great place that represents modernity and creativity and beauty and romance and all of those things. That, I think, would be amazing. ~ Sarah Burton

Love and self-denial for the object loved go hand-in-hand. If I profess to love a certain person, and yet will neither give my silver nor my gold to relieve his wants, nor in any way deny myself comfort or ease for his sake, such love is contemptible; it wears the name, but lacks the reality of love: true love must be measured by the degree to which the person loving will be willing to subject himself to crosses and losses, to suffering and self-denials. After all, the value of a thing in the market is what a man will give for it, and you must estimate the value of a man's love by that which he is willing to give up for it. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

Grace is not a theology. It is not a subject matter. It is not a doctrine. It is a person, and his name is Jesus. That's the reason the Lord wants you to receive the abundance of grace, for to have the abundance of grace is to have the abundance of Jesus. ~ Joseph Prince

It wasn't until he turned that she saw him, a huge, towering man close enough to hear everything they were saying. She gasped, and Beckett laughed. "Don't scare her to death!" He pulled Candy over to the man in the shadows, smiling. "This is my security detail. Mouse, meet Candy Cox." Mouse nodded. "Hey, Candy." He stepped forward, and she noticed he was younger than she'd initially thought. His voice was high and squeaky. He made no comment about her name, and that made her like him. Beckett slapped Mouse on the arm but missed the look of pure devotion on the man's face because he'd turned back to speak to her. "If you ever see this dude around, know I sent him. He's safe." Candy held out her hand formally, like her family had ingrained in her. Mouse took it and gave her a gentle smile. "Thanks, Mouse. Nice to meet you." He nodded and stepped back, scanning the area. ~ Debra Anastasia

He hadn't been aware of staring, but when her questioning gaze locked with his, Grey felt as though he'd been smacked upside the head by the open palm of idiocy.
"Is something troubling you, Grey?"
He loved the sound of his name on her tongue, and hated that he loved it. She made him weak and stupid. One sweet glance from her and he was ready to drop to his knees.
It wasn't love. It wasn't even infatuation. It was pure unmitigated lust. He could admit that. Hell, he embraced it. Lust could be managed. Lust could be mastered. And lust would eventually fade once she was out of his care and out of his life. That was the cold, hard, blessed truth of it.
"I was wondering if you were eagerly anticipating Lady Shrewsbury's ball tomorrow evening?" How easily the lie rolled off his tongue as he lifted a bite of poached salmon to his mouth.
She smiled softly, obviously looking forward to it very much. "I am. Thank you."
Camilla shared her daughter's pleasure judging from her coy grin. "Rose has renewed her acquaintance with the honorable Kellan Maxwell. He requested that she save the first waltz of the evening for him."
The fish caught in Grey's throat. He took a drink of wine to force it down. "The same Kellan Maxwell who courted you during your first season?"
Rose's smile faded a little. No doubt she heard the censure in his tone, his disapproval. "The same," she replied with an edge of defensiveness.
The same idiot who abandoned his pursu ~ Kathryn Smith

It's the best thing to happen to a sport, that you have a superstar. In football there is always something to write about the Beckhams, same as people want to write about Rooney or Hooney or whatever his bloody name is. ~ Bernie Ecclestone

The Virgin Mary is called the [Greek words] (the "book of the Word of life") by the Greek Church. The book of the Gospel, the book of Christ's origins and life, can be written and proclaimed because God has first written his living Word in the living book of the Virgin's being, which she has offered to her Lord in all its purity and humility - the whiteness of a chaste, empty page. If the name of Mary does not often appear in the pages of the Gospel as evident participant in the action, it is because she is the human ground of humility and obedience upon which every letter of Christ's life is written. She is the Theotokos, too, in the sense that she is the book that bears, and is inscribed with, the Word of God. She keeps her silence that he might resonate the more plainly within her. ~ Erasmo Leiva-Merikakis

Particular honour belongs to those who believed in the possibility of mechanical flight when all the world was against them; not the visionaries because they hoped for it merely, but those who by sheer force of intellect perceived the means by which it could be accomplished and directed their experiments along the right path ... The name of Lilienthal is now among the most honoured, but curiously his own countrymen were the last to recognize the value of his work. ~ Otto Lilienthal

Um, excuse me, but, wait. Uh...uh...are all domestic our allies?" came a frail voice from a bushtit whose name roughly translates as Gary.
"During this War, they are all our allies. We will work together," said Kraai.
"Not cats though, right?" asked a yellow-breasted western meadowlark.
Kraai gave his measured answer: "Not every cat is bad."
Mutters of disbelief rose like bubbles. Gary the bushtit, shifting his balance, lifted up his sad twig of a leg stump as a silent rebuttal.
"You're right, Gary. Cats can't be trusted. But everything else. ~ Kira Jane Buxton

Put an underdog on top and it makes no difference whether his name is Russian, Jewish, Negro, Management, Labor, Mormon, or Baptist he goes haywire. I've found very, very few who remember their past condition when prosperity comes. ~ Harry S. Truman

All this drinking and dancing and flirting," Mr. Kent said with a sigh, balancing a glass on the railing for me. "Dreadful business, isn't it?"

"Yes, I don't understand it," I mumbled, accepting the champagne as if it could magically transport me away. No, still here. What on earth was he getting at? Was he toying with me?

"That's just it. Perspective is a curious thing. One day, you see everything from one angle and you think you know what's important," he continued, looking out at the dancers. Then he turned to me, smiling wryly. "Then another day, from another angle, you see what's really important, and everything else just . . . melts away."

"I see," I said without meeting his eyes, hoping he'd be dissuaded. He wasn't. His hand slid across the railing and caught mine.

"I have never seen you here before. Are you one of Mrs. Shine's girls?" he asked. Seen you here before? Downstairs, the tempo of the violins and cellos quickened. As my blood boiled, I could barely hear my own thoughts, and the response left my lips compulsively.

"No."

"Excellent, then might I ask, who is your - "

"I'm sorry, I can't help you," I interrupted, hurrying away past the bar and the horrible paintings toward the stairs.

"Please, wait!" he called from behind, chasing after me. "What is your name?"

"Evelyn Wyndham," I said, giving him a false name. Dammit. Champagne and Mr. Kent did not mix wel ~ Tarun Shanker

Thank you, I think. And what is your name?" Keirah called out a bit more loudly, as she watched Darius retreat ... "His name is of no consequence." A male's loud, booming voice came from behind the two men who remained. The sound of his voice was gritty, husky, and the sound brought a spark to Keirah's blood. ~ Madison Thorne Grey

Ask Dujek about the reports coming down from the North Campaign. Elder magic - Kurald Galain. The Lord of Moon's Spawn is the Master Archmage - you know his name as well as I do. ~ Steven Erikson

Alas! What are all these lives driven willy-nilly? Where are they going? Why are they like this? He who knows the answer to that, sees the darkness as a whole. He is alone. His name is God. ~ Victor Hugo

His is the name of fire, the name that rides the whisper of the candlelight. His name was ... is ... Racath Thanjel. And this is his story.
-The Penitent God ~ S.G. Night

Ged had neither lost nor won but, naming the shadow of his death with his own name, had made himself whole: a man: who, knowing his whole true self, cannot be used or possessed by any power other than himself, and whose life therefore is lived for life's sake and never in the service of ruin, or pain, or hatred, or the dark. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

I met someone special today," I told her. "His name is Lawson Gale." She wagged her tail at me. "I dunno, Rosie, but if there's any such thing as perfect for me, he just might be it. ~ N.R. Walker

My brother plays guitar and base and writes. His name is Chase Ryan. ~ Debby Ryan

JULIAN HUXLEY'S "EUGENICS MANIFESTO":
"Eugenics Manifesto" was the name given to an article supporting eugenics. The document, which appeared in Nature, September 16, 1939, was a joint statement issued by America's and Britain's most prominent biologists, and was widely referred to as the "Eugenics Manifesto." The manifesto was a response to a request from Science Service, of Washington, D.C. for a reply to the question "How could the world's population be improved most effectively genetically?" Two of the main signatories and authors were Hermann J. Muller and Julian Huxley. Julian Huxley, as this book documents, was the founding director of UNESCO from the famous Huxley family. Muller was an American geneticist, educator and Nobel laureate best known for his work on the physiological and genetic effects of radiation. Put into the context of the timeline, this document was published 15 years after "Mein Kampf" and a year after the highly publicized violence of Kristallnacht. In other words, there is no way either Muller or Huxley were unaware at the moment of publication of the historical implications of eugenic agendas. ~ A.E. Samaan

Through the open doorway suddenly stepped a small woman, long ebony hair braided intricately, huge blue eyes flashing at Mikhail. As Byron shouldered his way inside behind her, she gave him a friendly smile and stood on her toes to brush his chin with a kiss.
Mikhail stiffened, then immediately wrapped a possessive arm around her waist. "Carpathian women do not do that kind of thing," he reprimanded her.
She tilted her chin at him, in no way intimidated. "That's because Carpathian males have such a territorial mentality - you know, a beat-their-chest, swing-from-the-trees sort of thing." She turned her head to look at the couple lying on the floor. Her indrawn breath was audible.
"Jacques." She whispered his name, tears in her voice and in her blue eyes. "It really is you." Eluding Mikhail's outstretched, detaining hand, she ran to him.
Let her, Gregori persuaded softly. Look at him.
Jacques' gaze was fastened on the woman's face, the red flames receding from his eyes as she approached.
"I'm Raven, Jacques. Don't you remember me? Mikhail, your brother, is my lifemate." Raven dropped to her knees beside the couple. "Thank God you're alive. I can't believe how lucky we are. Who did this to you? Who took you from us?"
Shea felt the ripple of awareness in her mind. Jacques' shock. His curiosity. He recognized those tear-filled blue eyes. Shea caught a glimpse, a fragment of memory, the woman bending over him, her hands clamped to his thr ~ Christine Feehan

Why do you insist on calling me Jocelyn?" I made sure my tone wasn't argumentative, just curious. Because I was curious.
His lips touched mine, soft, gentle, and he pulled back, those pale blue eyes of his bright with heat. "Joss is a girl's name. Possibly a tomboy's name." He smirked. "Jocelyn, on the other hand, is a woman's name. A really sexy woman's name." He pulled back."So strip Jocelyn."
Okay. He could call me Jocelyn. ~ Samantha Young