Left Hand Of God Quotes

You're the right colour for the Angel of Death, Mister Cale. But a little short.' 'I could cut your head off and stand on it. Then I'd be taller. ~ Paul Hoffman

Smoke and dust hanging over the city like the hand of an angry God ~ Ron Veness

He'd done his walls with paint from Holy Basil. God, I yearned for their colors. I hadn't been able to afford them myself but I knew their color chart like the back of my hand. His hall was done in Gangrene, his stairs in Agony and his living room
unless I was very much mistaken
in Dead Whale. Colors I personally very much approved of. ~ Marian Keyes

Has not God chosen those who are pained in this world to inherit his paradise? For it is through suffering we understand our need for his righteous right hand. Indeed, our spiritual needs outweigh our physical ones. Blessed be the name of God. ~ Rae Carson

Bracy, why do I get the feeling that it's only a matter of time before you realize that while you've thought you were running away from God, you were actually running to Him ... and that He's been holding your hand and leading you the whole way there? ~ Nicole Sager

Somewhere off to my left, a little voice chirped: The redhead is smart. We can help.
In a nearby tree sat a murder of crows. (That's what you call a group of them. You learn useless facts like that in Valhalla.) "Uh, guys," I told my friends, "those crows claim they can help."
Claim? squawked another crow. You don't trust us? Send your two friends back to the ship with the mead. We'll give you a hand here. All we ask for in return is something shiny. Anything will do.
I related this to my friends.


I looked at the crows. "Okay, guys, what's the plan?"
Plan? cawed the nearest crow. We just said we'd help. We don't have a plan, per se.
Stupid misleading crows. Also, what kind of bird uses the term per se?
Since I didn't have time to murder the entire murder, I contemplated my limited options. ~ Rick Riordan

No doubt she was wondering how to fight him off. That made him feel like some sordid roué, thinking of nothing but his own pleasure. But as little as he'd been in polite company, even Ash knew better than to issue a clarification. "No, Miss Lowell," Ash could imagine himself saying, "I would never force myself on you. I mean to seduce you into willingness. That's all." That would get him a fork stabbed through his hand, by the black look she gave her pudding.
Thank God the knives had been removed along with the beef. ~ Courtney Milan

Two nights… without you." He didn't hide his disappointment. He leaned his head against the back of the seat and sighed deeply. "Oh God." He rubbed his face with his hand. "I'm in so deep. ~ Sharlyn G. Branson

MAR1.14 Now after that John was put in prison, Jesus came into Galilee, preaching the gospel of the kingdom of God, MAR1.15 And saying, The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: repent ye, and believe the gospel. ~ Anonymous

Guilt. Torment. Sorrow. Shock. Which?" she asked against his chest.
"I'm trying," he murmured on a weary chuckle. "But all I can manage is pride," he added softly. "I satisfied you completely, didn't I?"
"More than completely," she murmured against his damp shoulder. Her hand traced his chest, feeling the coolness of his skin, the ripple of muscle. "Hold me close."
He wrapped both arms around her and drew her on top of him, holding her hungrily to him, their legs lazily entwined. "I seduced you."
She pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone. "Mmm-hmm."
He caught his breath as the tiny, insignificant movement produced a sudden, raging arousal.
She lifted her head. "Did I do something wrong?"
He lifted an eyebrow and nodded toward his flat stomach. She followed his amused glance and caught her breath.
He drew her mouth down over his and kissed her ferociously before he sat up and moved off the bed.
"Where are you going?" she asked, startled.
He drew on his briefs and his slacks, glancing down at her with amused delight. "One of us has to be sensible," he told her. "Colby's probably on his way back right now."
"But he just left…"
"Almost an hour ago," he finished for her, nodding toward the clock on the bedside table.
She sat up, her eyes wide with surprise.
"I took a long time with you," he said gently. "Didn't you notice?"
She laughed self-consciously. "Well, yes, but I didn't realize it was that long."
Diana Palmer

Dexter thrust a pamphlet into Samuel's hand. "Greenstreet Mission. We're doing a Christmas dinner. You can get a meal and hear the word of God."
Samuel smiled in relief. This, finally, he understood. "Which word?"
"What?"
"Well, God's said a lot of words, you know, and a word like 'it' or 'the' wouldn't be worth hearing again but its always fun listening to Him try and say aluminum. ~ Tanya Huff

Mamá's headlights lit up the yellow fluorescent lines of the road. They were curvy and it seemed like they were being traced out of nothingness by the invisible hand of God - like God was bored, drawing hills and lines with a highlighter. ~ Ingrid Rojas Contreras

What's wrong?" Lane ran his thumb over my cheek.

"I wish… I just…" I frowned, trying to find the words I wanted. "I want to go home. I want to go check on Iggy. I want this to be a really bad and really long nightmare. I wish that instead of being in the truck, we were on our couch. You'd be sitting with your legs stretched out and I'd be lying on your lap. We could watch a movie. We'd be having a beer and nachos… I'd kill for a fucking beer right now." I stopped my rambling to swallow down the lump forming in my throat.

"It will be okay." He pressed his lips to my forehead. "I don't know what the fuck is going on, but someone will figure it out and they'll find a way to fix it. We're safe here for now." He maneuvered over the shift stick settled himself beside me. I laid my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes as he smoothed my hair.

"Lane?"

"Hmmm?"

I looked up at him and raised a hand to touch his cheek. My heart skipped, my lips brushed over his, and I took a deep breath. I remembered all those times I'd told him, but at the same time hadn't told him. I decided that from now on, for whatever time we had left, he'd know.

"I love you, Lane. Always have."

His smile melted every bone in my body. "I love you, Gabrielle. Always will. ~ Meaka Kyel

Ye gods! But you're not standing around holding it by the hand all this time. No. [ ... ] [T]he dough takes care of itself. [ ... ] While you cannot speed up the process, you can slow it down at any point by setting the dough in a cooler place [ ... ] then continue where you left off, when you are ready to do so. In other words, you are the boss of that dough. ~ Julia Child

To Homer, libraries were holy places like churches, and the priestly librarians a blessed race, a saving remnant in a world of sin. Whenever God grew impatient and decided to destroy the world he remembered the librarians and stayed his hand. ~ Jane Langton

The earthly [city] has made for herself, according to her heart's desire, false gods out of any sources at all, even out of human beings, that she might adore them with sacrifices. The heavenly one, on the other hand, living like a wayfarer in this world, makes no false gods for herself. On the contrary, she herself is made by the true God that she may be herself a true sacrifice to Him. ~ Augustine Of Hippo

Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He could not unclench the hand holding the Triwizard Cup; it was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric at his side. ~ J.K. Rowling

Our poor people are great people, a very lovable people, They don't need our pity and sympathy. They need our understanding love and they need our respect. We need to tell the poor that they are somebody to us that they, too, have been created, by the same loving hand of God, to love and be loved. ~ Mother Teresa

Ministers, deacons, and elders may all be wise, but if the sacred Dove departs, and the spirit of strife enters, it is all over with us. Brethren, our system will not work without the Spirit of God, and I am glad it will not, for its stoppages and breakages call our attention to the fact of His absence. Our system was never intended to promote the glory of priests and pastors, but it is calculated to educate manly Christians, who will not take their faith at second-hand. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

There was an old joke about being left on a deserted island with an editor. You are starving. All you have left is a glass of orange juice. Days pass. You are near death. You are about to drink the juice when the editor grabs the glass from your hand and pees into it. You look at him, stunned . "There," the editor says, handing you the glass. "It just needed a little tweaking. ~ Harlan Coben

We look for wonders and the unseen reality-the hand of God- in things extrordinary, when more often his presence is to be found in the unheralded, familiar, everyday events of which life is woven. ~ David G. Myers

I will drink wine now, for I must prepare myself for the question which my mother will now ask. She will say: "Do you go to Mass every Sunday, my Jimmy?" I will answer: "Sometimes, Ma. Sometimes." I will be lying. She will ask: "Do you still read books against God?" I will say, lying again: "Not any more, Ma." And I will look at the face of my mother, and I will remember a night when we lived in the South, and I came home, and I saw my mother in tears, and sick unto death, and the doctor was called, and he saved my mother, and he came out of the room wherein my mother lay, and he held a book in his hand, and he handed it to me, and he said: "This is the cause. If you must read such stuff as this, do it where your mother can't see you." When I looked at the book, I saw that it was the The Anti-Christ. Now I will be home soon, and my mother will ask if I read books against God, and I will answer that I do not. ~ John Fante

God clues us in to the fact that, "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." In short, God is not logical. This is not to say that he is illogical, only that he is not limited by logic. Simplified, "logic" is connecting the dots. We identify the dots we consider relevant, then connect them into lines and patterns. God, on the other hand, may see that, beneath one of the dots is a stack of a trillion more dots, each of which may be combined with the others. Little wonder that our ways and meanings frequently fail to match God's ways and meanings. Great wonder that, when they don't, we tend to fault him. ~ Ron Brackin

When you find your definitions in God, you find the very purpose for which you were created. Put your hand into God's hand, know His absolutes, demonstrate His love, present His truth, and the message of redemption and transformation will take hold. ~ Ravi Zacharias

Christ's divinity accounts for His exaltation to the right hand of God, justifies the worship of angels and the confidence of mankind. It makes clear His right to the throne of the universe, and enables the mind to understand why He is exalted in providence, in grace, and in judgment. It is the unifying truth that harmonizes all other teachings of Christianity, and renders the entire system symmetrical and complete. ~ George C. Lorimer

Unlike God the artist does not start with nothing and make something of it. He starts with himself as nothing and makes something of the nothing with the things at hand. ~ Samuel Pepys

Looks like you've been busy," he said as he set down the pail to survey the room.
"You found water!"
"There was a stream close by." His gaze fixed on what she held in her hand. "I see you found my brandy."
Refusing to be embarrassed, she walked over to hand the flask to him. "I did indeed." She shot him a mischievous glance as he drank some. "Who would guess that the estimable Mr. Pinter, so high in the instep, drinks strong spirits?"
He scowled at her. "A little brandy on a cold day never hurt anyone. And I'm not high in the instep."
"Oh? Didn't you tell Gabe only last week that most lords were only good for redistributing funds from their estates into all the gaming hells and brothels in London, and ignoring their duty to God and country?"
When he flushed, she felt a twinge of conscience, but only a twinge. He looked so charming when he was flustered.
"I wasn't implying that your family…"
"It's all right," she said, taking pity on him. He had saved her life, after all. "You have good reason to be high in the instep. And you're not far wrong, in any case-there are many lords who are a blight upon society."
He was quiet a long moment. "I hope you realize that I don't think that of your brothers. Or your brother-in-law. They're fine men."
"Thank you."
Removing his surtout, he walked over to hang it on top of her cloak, then stood there warming his hands at the fire. "I wish I could say the same about your cousins. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

Are these from you?"
The voice so startled me that I whirled around. Unfortunately, I was still holding the rake in
my hand. Even more unfortunately, the wooden handle caught him right along the side of his
face. He staggered back, stunned, the bottle of wine I'd just left at his door slipping from his
grasp and shattering on the path with a crash. The scent of merlot drifted up around us, canceling
out the smells of spring.
"Oops," I said in a strangled voice.
"Jesus Christ, lady," my new neighbor cursed, rubbing his cheek. "What is your problem? ~ Kristan Higgins

The whole party followed, with the exception of Scythrop, who threw himself into his arm-chair, crossed his left foot over his right knee, placed the hollow of his left hand on the interior ancle of his left leg, rested his right elbow on the elbow of the chair, placed the ball of his right thumb against his right temple, curved the forefinger along the upper part of his forehead, rested the point of the middle finger on the bridge of his nose, and the points of the two others on the lower part of the palm, fixed his eyes intently on the veins in the back of his left hand, and sat in this position like the immoveable Theseus, who, as is well known to many who have not been at college, and to some few who have, sedet, oeternumque sedebit. We hope the admirers of the minitiae in poetry and romance will appreciate this accurate description of a pensive attitude. ~ Thomas Love Peacock

Where is it, Rudolf?" she whispers, pressing herself against me. "Tell me where it is! Has a piece of me
been left behind everywhere? In all the mirrors I have looked into? I have seen lots of them, countless ones!
Am I scattered everywhere in them? Has each of them taken some part of me? A thin impression, a thin slice
of me? Have I been shaved down by mirrors like a piece of wood by a carpenter's plane? What is still left of
me?"
I take her by the shoulders. "All of you is still here," I say. "On-the contrary, mirrors add something. They
make it visible and give it to you - a bit of space, a lighted bit of our-self."
"Myself?" She continues to cling to my hand. "But suppose it is not that way? Suppose myself is buried all
over in thousands and thousands of mirrors? How can I get it back? Oh, I can never get it back! It is lost!
Lost! It has been rubbed away like a statue that no longer has a face. Where is my face? Where is my first
face? The one before all the mirrors? The one before they began to steal me!"
"No one has stolen you," I say in desperation. "Mirrors don't steal. They only reflect. ~ Erich Maria Remarque

A storm in Scotland was like nothing she'd ever experienced in London. Here, the elements felt alive, sentient. This storm was a raging monster that had grown in fury since yesterday.
Sometimes, she thought Scotland was more than a country, more than a rough and magnificent land with a border created by men, written on a map, and defended for hundreds of years. Scotland was almost a living creature that could turn and bite your hand if you didn't speak about it in fond and loving tones.
When she walked the hills and glens surrounding Drumvagen, she sometimes felt like she was being watched. Not by living inhabitants, but those who'd gone before, proud men and women who hated the English and now hovered over their land to protest her appearance.
For all her imagination, she didn't believe in the hundreds of folktales Brianag told the children. The trees weren't alive; they were simply trees. Brownies didn't do chores for obedient children. Sea creatures in the shape of horses didn't bedevil the coast.
Yet something about this storm was otherworldly, as if God were punishing them. ~ Karen Ranney

In silence, they filed past me, and I was left alone with the person who, the day before, I'd wanted to kill even more than Galdran Merindar.
"Take a swig." Shevraeth held out a flagon. "You're going to need it, I'm afraid."
I crossed the room, sank cross-legged onto the nearest mat. With one numb hand I took the flagon, squeezed a share of its contents into my mouth; and gasped as the fire of distilled bristic burned its way inside me. I took a second sip and with stinging eyes handed the flagon back.
"Blue lips," he said, with that faint smile. "You're going to have a whopping cold."
I looked up at the color burning along his cheekbones, and the faint lines of strain in his forehead, and made a discovery. "So are you," I said. "Hah!" I added, obscurely pleased.
His mouth quirked. "Do you have any questions?"
"Yes." My voice came out hoarse, and I cleared my throat. "Bran said Galdran is coming after us. Why? I thought it had been made abundantly clear that--thanks to you--we were defeated, and that was after he'd already decided we were of no account."
"Here. Eat something." He pulled the tray over and pointed to the bread-and-cheese on it, and at the half of some kind of fruit tart.
I picked up the bread and bit into it as he said, "But his cousin did not encompass your defeat, despite the fact that you were outnumbered and outmaneuvered. This is the more galling for Galdran, you must understand, when you consider the enormous loss o ~ Sherwood Smith

In the years since the disaster, I often think of my friend Arturo Nogueira, and the conversations we had in the mountains about God. Many of my fellow survivors say they felt the personal presence of God in the mountains. He mercifully allowed us to survive, they believe, in answer to our prayers, and they are certain it was His hand that led us home. I deeply respect the faith of my friends, but, to be honest, as hard as I prayed for a miracle in the Andes, I never felt the personal presence of God. At least, I did not feel God as most people see Him. I did feel something larger than myself, something in the mountains and the glaciers and the glowing sky that, in rare moments, reassured me, and made me feel that the world was orderly and loving and good. If this was God, it was not God as a being or a spirit or some omnipotent, superhuman mind. It was not a God who would choose to save us or abandon us, or change in any way. It was simply a silence, a wholeness, an awe-inspiring simplicity. It seemed to reach me through my own feelings of love, and I have often thought that when we feel what we call love, we are really feeling our connection to this awesome presence. I feel this presence still when my mind quiets and I really pay attention. I don't pretend to understand what it is or what it wants from me. I don't want to understand these things. I have no interest in any God who can be understood, who speaks to us in one holy book or another, and who tinkers with our lives ~ Nando Parrado

I believe in the Supreme Being, in a Creator, whatever he may be. I care little who has placed us here below to fulfil our duties as citizens and fathers of families; but I don't need to go to church to kiss silver plates, and fatten, out of my pocket, a lot of good-for-nothings who live better than we do. For one can know him as well in a wood, in a field, or even contemplating the eternal vault like the ancients. My God! mine is the God of Socrates, of Franklin, of Voltaire, and of Beranger! I am for the profession of faith of the 'Savoyard Vicar,' and the immortal principles of '89! And I can't admit of an old boy of a God who takes walks in his garden with a cane in his hand, who lodges his friends in the belly of whales, dies uttering a cry, and rises again at the end of three days; things absurd in themselves, and completely opposed, moreover, to all physical laws, which proves to us, by the way, that priests have always wallowed in turpid ignorance, in which they would fain engulf the people with them. ~ Gustave Flaubert

But with her eyes closed, she began to whisper. "If you have someone to love, then love. If you have someone to forgive, then forgive. You think, when you're seventeen, there's time enough for that, but there's not. There's no time at all."
I squeezed her hand, trying to think of how to respond. But she took the burden from me and kept whispering. "You want to know why God gave us people to love? Because that's the only way we can understand how he feels about us. Desperate and jealous. ~ Laura Anderson Kurk

He reached out to cup her elbow. Best to move slowly, to communicate that she could refuse him. The choice was hers. Her luminous eyes remained fixed on his. Her lips parted as he trailed his hand from the point of her elbow to her wrist. God. Her bare skin, that small, vulnerable patch exposed between cuff and glove, was indescribably soft. His thumb rubbed her pulse once, twice. A small noise came from her, the loosening of her breath, a sound as meaningful as the shushing of silk as a dress fell to the floor. This was how it began: how a woman came undone. ~ Meredith Duran

Wyatt." She tore it open and stood there, drinking him in.Just the sight of him had her heart doing a happy dance in her chest.
"Don't throw me out." He lifted a hand. "I come in peace.With food."
When she didn't say a word he added, "Pizza.With all your favorite toppings.Sausage, mushrooms, green..."
"Well,then." To hide the unexpected tears that sprang to her eyes,she turned away quickly. "Since you went to so much trouble,you may as well come in."
"It was no trouble.I just rode a hundred miles on my Harley,fought my way through the smoke screen at the Fortune Saloon,had to fend off Daffy's attempts to have her way with me, and discovered that I'd left my wallet back at the ranch,which meant I had to sign away my life before Vi would turn over this pizza,wine,and dessert. But hey, no trouble at all.It's the sort of thing I do nearly every day."
He followed her to the kitchen, where he set down the pizza box and a brown bag.
He glanced over at the stove. "Are you going to lift that kettle, or did I interrupt you making a recording of you whistling along with it in harmony?"
Despite her tears,she found herself laughing hysterically at his silly banter.
Oh,how she'd missed it.
He set the kettle aside.The sudden silence was shocking.
Because she had her back to him, he fought the urge to touch her.Instead he studied the way her shoulders were shaking. Troubled,he realized he'd made her cry.
"Sorry." Deflated,his tone lowere ~ R.C. Ryan

If you think about it, the public perception of funky brain chemistry has been as varied and weird as the symptoms, historically speaking.

If I had been born a Native American in another time, I might have been lauded as a medicine man. My voices would have been seen as the voices of ancestors imparting wisdom. I would have been treated with great mystical regard.

If I had lived in biblical times, I might have been seen as a prophet, because, let's face it, there are really only two possibilities: either prophets were actually hearing God speaking to them, or they were mentally ill. I'm sure if an actual prophet surfaced today, he or she would receive plenty of Haldol injections, until the sky opened up and the doctors were slapped silly by the Hand of God.

In the Dark Ages my parents would have sent for an exorcist, because I was clearly possessed by evil spirits, or maybe even the Devil himself.

And if I lived in Dickensian England, I would have been thrown into Bedlam, which is more than just a description of madness. It was an actual place - a "madhouse" where the insane were imprisoned in unthinkable conditions.

Living in the twenty-first century gives a person a much better prognosis for treatment, but sometimes I wish I'd lived in an age before technology. I would much rather everyone think I was a prophet than some poor sick kid. ~ Neal Shusterman

Thus engaged, with her right elbow supported by her left hand, Madame Defarge said nothing when her lord came in, but coughed just one grain of cough. This, in combination with the lifting of her darkly defined eyebrows over her toothpick by the breadth of a line, suggested to her husband that he would do well to look round the shop among the customers, for any new customer who had dropped in while he stepped over the way.

The wine-shop keeper accordingly rolled his eyes about, until they rested upon an elderly gentleman and a young lady, who were seated in a corner. Other company were there: two playing cards, two playing dominoes, three standing by the counter lengthening out a short supply of wine. As he passed behind the counter, he took notice that the elderly gentleman said in a look to the young lady, "This is our man."

"What the devil do you do in that galley there?" said Monsieur Defarge to himself; "I don't know you."

But, he feigned not to notice the two strangers, and fell into discourse with the triumvirate of customers who were drinking at the counter.

"How goes it, Jacques?" said one of these three to Monsieur Defarge. "Is all the spilt wine swallowed?"

"Every drop, Jacques," answered Monsieur Defarge.

When this interchange of Christian name was effected, Madame Defarge, picking her teeth with her toothpick, coughed another grain of cough, and raised her eyebrows by the breadth of another line.Charles Dickens