Love By First Sight Quotes

It's only natural for the girl you're crushing on to be in love with someone else. Since you're in love with her, she sparkles in your eyes. That's why people fall so irrationally in love. ~ Myself

And she did love him. Not in the silly, girlish way that she had been infatuated with Vince. This had, for her, grown stealthily into an abiding love, sparked first by passion and then sustained by friendship and trust. ~ Ruth Hogan

But, careful! Jesus does not say, Go off and do things on your own. No! That is not what he is saying. Jesus says, Go, for I am with you! This is what is so beautiful for us; it is what guides us. If we go out to bring his Gospel with love, with a true apostolic spirit, with parrhesia, he walks with us, he goes ahead of us, and he gets there first. As we say in Spanish, nos primerea. By now you know what I mean by this. It is the same thing that the Bible tells us. In the Bible, the Lord says: I am like the flower of the almond. Why? Because that is the first flower to blossom in the spring. He is always the first! This is fundamental for us: God is always ahead of us! When we think about going far away, to an extreme outskirt, we may be a bit afraid, but in fact God is already there. Jesus is waiting for us in the hearts of our brothers and sisters, in their wounded bodies, in their hardships, in their lack of faith. ~ Pope Francis

Dan was the first to speak, his words blurred by the roar of the cascading water. "Pools," he said. "What about the pools?" "Poos?" Amy said. "What poos?" Atticus asked. "Bird poos? It's called guano. Actually, it's pretty interesting how many different words there are for animal poos. Guano, dung, droppings, spoors, cow pies, buffalo chips ... One of my favorites is fewmets." Dan said, "But I didn't - " "Fewmets - that's from medieval times, the poo you find when an animal is being hunted on a quest." Atticus was on a roll again. "And did you know that otter poo is called spraints?" "Why do otters get their own word for poo?" Jake wondered. "I love otters, they're so playful," Amy said. "Spraints - what a funny word." "Enough with the poos!" Dan yelled. Then he looked at Atticus. "I mean, it's cool - especially about the spraints, I didn't know that before - but I didn't say poos. ~ Linda Sue Park

But even I know that love doesn't steer by logic, nor is power distributed evenly. Lovers arrive at their first kisses with scars as wells as longings. They're not always looking for advantage. Some need shelter, others press only for the hyperreality of ecstasy, for which they'll tell outrageous lies or make irrational sacrifice. But they rarely ask themselves what they need or want. Memories are poor for past failures. Childhoods shine through adult skin, helpfully or not. So do the laws of inheritance that bind a personality. The lovers don't know there's no free will. I haven't heard enough radio drama to know more than that, though pop songs have taught me that they don't feel in December what they felt in May, and that to have a womb may be incomprehensible to those who don't and that the reverse is also true. ~ Ian McEwan

She thought it strange and wonderful that she had been given all these to love She thought it a blessing that she had loved them to the limit of her grief at parting with them, and that grief had only deepened and clarified her love. Since her first grief had brought her fully to birth and wakefulness in this world, an unstinting compassion had moved in her, like a live stream flowing deep underground, by which she knew herself and other and the world. It was her truest self, that stream always astir inside her that was at once pity and love, knowledge and faith, forgiveness, grief, and joy. It made her fearful, and it made her unafraid. ~ Wendell Berry

I poked him in the chest. 'First of all, yes, it was. Lacy cards and love tokens were widely exchanged even in Victorian times. By now, you should know better than to screw with me on historical trivia. ~ Molly Harper

Love is an ugly, terrible business practiced by fools. It'll trample your heart and leave you bleeding on the floor. And what does it really get you in the end? Nothing but a few incredible memories that you can't ever shake. The truth is, there's gonna be other girls out there. I mean, I hope. But I'm never gonna get another first love. That one is always gonna be her. ~ Jennifer Flackett

The storm is out there and every one of us must eventually face the storm. When the storm comes, pray that it will shake you to your roots and break you wide-open. Being broken open by the storm is your only hope. When you are broken open you get to discover for the first time what is inside you. Some people never get to see what is inside them; what beauty, what strength, what truth and love. They were never broken open by the storm. So, don't run from your pain - run into your pain. Let life's storm shatter you. ~ Bryant McGill

She certainly did not hate him. No; hatred had vanished long ago, and she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him, that could be so called. The respect created by the conviction of his valuable qualities, though at first unwillingly admitted, had for some time ceased to be repugnant to her feelings; and it was now heightened into somewhat of a friendlier nature, by the testimony so highly in his favour, and bringing forward his disposition in so amiable a light, which yesterday had produced. But above all, above respect and esteem, there was a motive within her of good will which could not be overlooked. It was gratitude.--Gratitude not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough, to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection. He who, she had been persuaded, would avoid her as his greatest enemy, seemed, on this accidental meeting, most eager to preserve the acquaintance, and without any indelicate display of regard, or any peculiarity of manner, where their two selves only were concerned, was soliciting the good opinion of her friends, and bent on making her known to his sister. Such a change in a man of so much pride, excited not only astonishment but gratitude--for to love, ardent love, it must be attributed; and as such its impression on her was of a sort to be encouraged, as by no means unpleasing, though it could not exactly be d ~ Jane Austen

My father was usually too far in the drink to remember he had children. My mother was half mad and had fewer morals than the barn cat we brought back today. Since none of our relations wanted custody of a pair of impoverished brats, Devon and I were sent to boarding school. We stayed there most holidays. I became a bully. I hated everyone. Henry was especially irritating- skinny, odd, fussy about his food. Always reading. I stole that book from the box under his bed because it seemed to be his favorite."
Pausing uncomfortably, Mr. Ravenel raked a hand through his disordered hair, and it promptly fell back into the same gleaming, untidy layers. "I didn't plan to keep it. I was going to embarrass him by reading parts of it aloud in front of him. And when I saw what you'd written on the inside cover, I could hardly wait to torture him about it. But then I read the first page."
"In which Stephen Armstrong is sinking in a pit of quicksand," Phoebe said with a tremulous smile.
"Exactly. I had to find out what happened next."
"After escaping the quicksand, he has to save his true love, Catriona, from the crocodiles."
A husky sound of amusement. "You marked x's all over those pages."
"I secretly longed for a hero to rescue me from crocodiles someday."
"I secretly longed to be a hero. Despite having far more in common with the crocodiles. ~ Lisa Kleypas

It was Andrew realized, not because of tension or nervousness, but purely because of the pulse of her heart, and suddenly he was gripped by possibility once again, that as long as there was that movement in someone, there was capacity to love and now his heart was beating faster and faster as if the power of the river were pushing blood through his veins, urging him to act. He felt Peggy stir, "So", she said, the faintest of tremors in her voice, "Quick question. With scones...do you go with jam or cream first?" Andrew considered the question. "I'm not sure it really matters..." He said. "Not in the grand scheme of things. " And then he leaned across, took Peggy's face in his hands, and kissed her. ~ Richard Roper

Many great persons have been of opinion that love is no other thing than complacency itself, in which they have had much appearance of reason. For not only does the movement of love take its origin from the complacency which the heart feels at the first approach of good, and find its end in a second complacency which returns to the heart by union with the thing beloved
but further, it depends for its preservation on this complacency, and can only subsist through it as through its mother and nurse; so that as soon as the complacency ceases, love ceases. ~ Saint Francis De Sales

You and I will converse while Hunt has a cigar," Westcliff informed him. "Come with us."
The "invitation" didn't seem to allow the possibility of a refusal, but Matthew tried nonetheless. "Thank you, my lord, but there is a certain matter I wish to discuss with someone, and I - "
"That someone would be Mr. Bowman, I expect."
Hell, Matthew thought. He knows. Even if it hadn't been for those words, he could tell by the way Westcliff was looking at him.
Westcliff knew about Bowman's intention of marrying him off to Daisy ... and not surprisingly, Westcliff had an opinion about it.
"You will discuss the matter with me first," the earl continued.
Matthew glanced warily at Simon Hunt, who gave him a bland look in return. "I'm certain," Matthew said, "that Mr. Hunt doesn't want to be bored by a discussion of someone else's personal affairs - "
"Not at all," Hunt said cheerfully. "I love hearing about other people's affairs. Particularly when they're personal. ~ Lisa Kleypas

According to the normal view, happiness is the summum bonum towards which we're naturally impelled by virtue - which in their definition means following one's natural impulses, as God meant us to do. But this includes obeying the instinct to be reasonable in our likes and dislikes. And reason also teaches us, first to love and reverence Almighty God, to Whom we owe our existence and our potential happiness, and secondly to get through life as comfortably and cheerfully as we can , and help all other members of our species to do so too. ~ Thomas Moore

I felt an unfamiliar sympathy for my parents. I seemed unable to take good care of myself, but I wanted to take care of them. For all that I'd tried to disown, and had, I was their perfect alchemy: my father's mother's willfulness and preference of singing to socks full of cash, and my father's need for his own way, somewhere far from most people; my mother's side's obsession with good marks, appearances, lots of noise, and never having enough. By now I had stood in front of many rooms, my first novel in hand. They always asked why you became a writer. An impossible question, but my four-headed answer floated up easily. Immigration gave me a million stories. Learning a new language at nine rather than zero left me astonished by what words could do. Because my people never expressed negative feelings directly (not a bequest of our totalitarian surroundings, but because they wished, above all, to show love, and what kind of love was it, they thought, if you disagreed openly?), I had to learn how to listen for what was meant rather than said, becoming acutely observant. That same love, however, meant I was never discouraged from speaking. A table of adults would fall silent so I could ask, or say. That last was the key: A fellow immigrant writer friend with a nearly identical background had only the first three, and had to work much harder to find the courage to put words on a page. I owed to my elders the career that hand given them such alarm. ~ Boris Fishman

To live is to be other. It's not even possible to feel, if one feels today what he felt yesterday. To feel today what one felt yesterday isn't to feel – it's to remember today what was felt yesterday, to be today's living corpse of what yesterday was lived and lost.

To erase everything from the slate from one day to the next, to be new with each new morning, in a perpetual revival of our emotional virginity – this, and only this, is worth being or having, to be or have what we imperfectly are.

This dawn is the first dawn of the world. Never did this pink colour yellowing to a warm white so tinge, towards the west, the face of the buildings whose windowpane eyes gaze upon the silence brought by the growing light. There was never this hour, nor this light, nor this person that's me. What will be tomorrow will be something else, and what I see will be seen by reconstituted eyes, full of a new vision.

High city hills! Great marvels of architecture that the steep slopes secure and make even greater, motley chaos of heaped up buildings that the daylight weaves together with bright spots and shadows – you are today, you are me, because I see you, you are what [I'll be] tomorrow, and I love you from the deck rail as when two ships pass, and there's a mysterious longing and regret in their passing. ~ Fernando Pessoa

I suggest that the real objective of Socialism is not happiness. Happiness hitherto has been a by-product, and for all we know it may always remain so. The real objective of Socialism is human brotherhood. This is widely felt to be the case, though it is not usually said, or not said loudly enough. Men use up their lives in heart-breaking political struggles, or get themselves killed in civil wars, or tortured in the secret prisons of the Gestapo, not in order to establish some central-heated, air-conditioned, strip-lighted Paradise, but because they want a world in which human beings love one another instead of swindling and murdering one another. And they want that world as a first step. Where they go from there is not so certain, and the attempt to foresee it in detail merely confuses the issue. ~ George Orwell

It was the first time! Just because there weren't fireworks the first time doesn't mean there will never be fireworks. We're human; we're adults; we teach each other; we communicate; fireworks don't just go off, wham-bang; fireworks evolve!'

Awestruck by the utter, asinine nonsense of this metaphor, everyone is still. Into the stillness, the ample woman drops the word 'Wrong.' Then she says it again. 'Wrong…I'm talking about science…Pheromones.' The woman turns to Cornelia. 'The chemicals in his body call out. The chemicals in your body answer. It either happens or it doesn't.'

On top of being dumb, Cornelia is dumbfounded. ~ Marisa De Los Santos

That's what being in love looks like. I didn't have that, and I wanted it.

But then you found it.

I did, but that doesn't mean you won't. Love isn't a finite thing in the universe. It's not like it gets used up by people who got there first. ~ Melanie Harlow

No sinful word, nor deed of wrong, Nor thoughts that idly rove; But simple truth be on our tongue, And in our hearts be love. ST. AMBROSE. Let us all resolve,--First, to attain the grace of SILENCE; Second, to deem all FAULT-FINDING that does no good a SIN, and to resolve, when we are happy ourselves, not to poison the atmosphere for our neighbors by calling on them to remark every painful and disagreeable feature of their daily life; Third, to practise the grace and virtue of PRAISE. HARRIET B. STOWE. ~ Mary W. Tileston

The way we were first loved and the ways we have been loved ever since form our definition of what love means to us. Some people really feel loved when someone gives them a gift. Others experience it when people stand up for them. Still others feel loved when someone goes the extra mile to help them. If our mother showed love by holding us in our pain or joy, without engulfing or controlling us, that will be the behavior that always feels like love to us. We feel love now as we first received it; we give love the way others gave it to us. Thus, since love is unique to each person, we read and write love, receive and give it, in the style designed by our past experience. Yet, like good handwriting, our unique signature can be read by others. ~ David Richo

Love is like playing the piano. First you must learn to play by the rules, then you must forget the rules and play from your heart. If I were pressed to say why I loved him, I feel that my only reply could be: Because it was he, because it was I. ~ Michel De Montaigne

I regularly tell our seminary students that if I happen to visit the church in which one of them serves, I will not ask first, "Is this man a good preacher?" Rather, first of all I will ask the secretaries, office staff, janitors, and cleaners what it is like to work for this pastor. I will ask, "What kind of man is he? Is he a servant? Is he demanding and harsh, or his he patient, kind, and forbearing as a man in authority?" One of our graduates may preach great sermons, but if he is a pain to work for, then you know he will cause major problems in any congregation. Leaders in the church are required by Scripture to set an example in the areas of love, kindness, gentleness, patience, and forbearance before they are appointed to preach, teach, and rule. If we obediently require these attitudes and character traits of our leaders, what will our "new community" look like ~ Jerram Barrs

If I slip into the place that can be filled by Christ alone, making myself the first necessity to a soul instead of leading it to fasten upon Him, then I know nothing of Calvary love. ~ Amy Carmichael

The path to accepting your sexuality has to start somewhere. For those identify as heterosexual, the childhood bliss of an early crush is typically encouraged and praised. Milestones such as your first date and the prom are celebrated by parents and friends.
But when you're anything other than straight, it's more complicated; your growth gets shrouded and stunted. That's why a lot of queer people, when they fall in love and get into a relationship for the first time, revert to a kind of prepubescent puppy love: spontaneous, impulsive, obsessive, and ecstatic. I've heard many people express annoyance at friends who "just came out and it's totally cool and whatever, but do they have to talk about it all the time?" My answer to that is "Yes. Yes, they do. Don't you remember puppy love? Well, imagine if you had to hide it for twenty years. So yeah, if they wanna gush about it, let them gush. There's a first time for everything. ~ Hannah Hart

We should not be held back by the thought that if they are not elect, they will not believe us and our efforts to convert them will fail. That is true; but it is none of our business and should make no difference to our action. In the first place, it is always wrong to abstain from doing good for fear that it might not be appreciated. In the second place, the nonelect in this world are faceless men as far as w are concerned. We know that they exist, but we do not and cannot know who they are, and it is as futile as it is impious for us to try and guess. The identity of the reprobate is one of God's 'secret things' into which his people may not pry. In the third place, our calling as Christians is not to love God's elect, and them only, but to love our neighbour, irrespective of whether he is elect or not. ~ J.I. Packer

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

By religion, then, I understand a propitiation or conciliation of powers superior to man which are believed to direct and control the course of nature and of human life. Thus defined, religion consists of two elements, a theoretical and a practical, namely, a belief in powers higher than man and an attempt to propitiate or please them. Of the two, belief clearly comes first, since we must believe in the existence of a divine being before we can attempt to please him. But unless the belief leads to a corresponding practice, it is not a religion but merely a theology; in the language of St. James, "faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone." In other words, no man is religious who does not govern his conduct in some measure by the fear or love of God. On the other hand, mere practice, divested of all religious belief, is also not religion. Two men may behave in exactly the same way, and yet one of them may be religious and the other not. If the one acts from the love or fear of God, he is religious; if the other acts from the love or fear of man, he is moral or immoral according as his behaviour comports or conflicts with the general good. ~ James George Frazer

After you give yourself the chance to get to know yourself, love on yourself, and finally put yourself first, you'll be like a kid in the candy store, because your life is so sweet. This is because you've accepted your flaws, you've learned how to say no without regret, you're giving yourself so much attention and are loving yourself to the moon and back.
You are in your 'Ahah' moment, and goodness gracious, you are in the zone where nobody can interrupt your inner peace. As others' houses of cards fall down, you press forward because that isn't your problem. You are taking happy steps, your mind is on cruise control, and you've created a new and improved plan for your life. Life is good! ~ Charlena E. Jackson

What are you doing?" I ask, astonished.
"It's called a hug, Toy." He says it with gentle mockery.
He's hugging me to make me feel better.
His arms tighten around me, and I melt into him before I can stop myself. His body is so strong, his grip so firm. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes and breathe in his warm, masculine scent, the faint whiff of cologne and sweat and male musk. Then I circle his waist with my hands and hug him back.
I hug my kidnapper.
I hug my torturer.
I just want to feel better about everything, I want to leave my nightmare behind even if it's just for a few moments of make-believe, so I pretend that he's none of those things. I keep my eyes closed tight and pretend that he's my boyfriend, my lover, my protector. And in a way he is. I have no doubt that if anyone tried to harm me, Joshua would kill them or die trying. He's the only man in my life. The only man who's ever given me an orgasm. When we have sex now, it feels like making love, and he always, always makes sure that I come first.
Why couldn't he have been like this when he first took me? I think I'd have been in love with him by now.
He begins stroking my hair, gently, fingers trailing through the tresses.
"This isn't so bad," he murmurs, and I'm not sure if he's talking to himself or me. And a little bit of me melts. This is probably the first time he's ever hugged anyone, and, heart-breakingly, the first time he's ever been hu ~ Ginger Talbot

There's an old poem by Neruda that I've always been captivated by, and one of the lines in it has stuck with me ever since the first time I read it. It says "love is so short, forgetting is so long." It's a line I've related to in my saddest moments, when I needed to know someone else had felt that exact same way. And when we're trying to move on, the moments we always go back to aren't the mundane ones. They are the moments you saw sparks that weren't really there, felt stars aligning without having any proof, saw your future before it happened, and then saw it slip away without any warning. ~ Taylor Swift

Since when?" she challenged.
"Since when has my heart been with you?" She nodded. He stepped closer and framed her face in his large hands. "Quite possibly from the first time I heard you snort." He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Very probably when you flirted with our waiter." A warm kiss on the freckle by her eye. "Almost certainly the first time you fell asleep in my arms." A small kiss on the opposite cheek. "And most definitely the night we made love." Finally, a tender kiss on the lips. ~ Gina L. Maxwell

She had been hesitant the first night, right before she had launched into him like a wild animal. The imprint of her violence had lasted on him well until the morning and while he had been hurt, he had loved the fact that she was into him, that she lusted after him fanatically, that she scratched him, wept on him, bit him and he was grateful that she let him see her like that: unhinged, throbbing and warm-skinned. She was powerful and thus ironically all the more defenceless in surrender. At times he felt as though she truly hated him, hated him for making her feel like this, for having to condescend herself just by wanting him. He felt as though she was warning him constantly through her seething, hurtling silence; to not let her down after she had disclosed so much of her soul to him. Her insecurities, her memories, her fetishes, her scent, her limbs; they had all been laid-bare in front of him and as he lay there next to the girl whose chest heaved and fell like the meter of a ghazal, he fell in love with that girl and her bundle of contradictions.'
('Left from Dhakeshwari') ~ Kunal Sen

Vincent Marc Hoherz. On World Peace. ♡

A construct like religion doesn't exist, it never did and never will be existing. The principles of a peaceful life as a community of quarters, cities, communal districts, conglomerates over city-boundaries, national countries, continents, international communities and economical relations between each of these entities can only sustainably established by following the principles of Human Rights, Common Sense, Empathy and Constructivism like Friendship, Love, Reliability and Circumspection. Each and Everyone has to be registered, guided and assistently encouraged in accordance with their abilities. Women and Children are our most precious and Central Potential as a World-Community and have to be given any existing Security and Right to develop. Following these Principles, Women first, - will lead and only will lead to a Planet's stable Society. ♡ ‪#SophieHunger‬ ‪#EmilieWelti‬ ‪#EmmaWatson‬ ‪#HeForShe‬ ‪#UnWomen‬ ‪#Nato‬ ‪#World‬ ‪#WorldPeace‬ ‪#VincentMarcHoherz‬ ~ Vincent Marc Hoherz

Christopher Argent kept stealing disbelieving looks at Farah, his blue eyes reflecting the ambient glow like an alley cat's. Dorian understood why the man would dare in his presence.
First, because Christopher Argent was an unfeeling, fearless killer-for-hire.
And second, because most of the incarcerated men at Newgate had considered Dougan's Fairy some mythical creature, a sight too rare and beautiful to be beheld by a common man. Maybe even a fancy born of an imagination keen enough to take possession of the prison. To meet her was to gaze upon a fantasy realized, to remember the desperate yearnings of a lonely prisoner bereft of kindness, mercy, or beauty. To be blinded by the embodiment of all three of those things. For a man like Argent, one born to incarceration, the sight might have him reassessing some long-held cynical philosophies. ~ Kerrigan Byrne

When I first came up, the whole AIDS epidemic was starting, and the gay community that I experienced from the beginning of my career was mostly - and overwhelmingly - concerned with staying alive. And, also, I felt really aware of the preciousness of life and time. The gay community and people who were HIV-positive were treated so badly, and I was very disturbed by things. But I also saw a lot of love and connection in the gay community at that time. ~ Madonna Ciccone

The first men to be created and formed were called the Sorcerer of Fatal Laughter, the Sorcerer of Night, Unkempt, and the Black Sorcerer ... They were endowed with intelligence, they succeeded in knowing all that there is in the world. When they looked, instantly they saw all that is around them, and they contemplated in turn the arc of heaven and the round face of the earth ... [Then the Creator said]: 'They know all ... what shall we do with them now? Let their sight reach only to that which is near; let them see only a little of the face of the earth! ... Are they not by nature simple creatures of our making? Must they also be gods? ~ Anonymous

Instead of being groomed for her future husband and/or career, a young lady should be first taught to love herself. I am a firm believer that if you put yourself first and find out who you are as a person, everything else will fall into place.
Sadly, that is not what a young lady is taught.
We are taught to love others and to put everyone's needs before our own. We are taught to make sacrifices at an early age to the point where we do not know any better as we age. The edges of our life are rough because we do not know who we are as a person. ~ Charlena E. Jackson

They are from the perspective of the Creator. The first meaning of "I am the reason you walk" is "I have created you and therefore you walk." The second meaning is "I am your motivation." The third meaning is "I am that spark inside you called love, which animates you and allows you to live by the Anishinaabe values of kiizhewaatiziwin." The fourth and final meaning is "I am the destination at the end of your life that you ware walking toward. ~ Wab Kinew

In that face, deformed by hatred of philosophy, I saw for the first time the portrait of the Antichrist, who does not come from the tribe of Judas, as his heralds have it, or from a far country. The Antichrist can be born from piety itself, from excessive love of God or of the truth, as the heretic is born from the saint and the possessed from the seer. Fear prophets, Adso, and those prepared to die for the truth, for as a rule they make many others die with them, often before them, at times instead of them. Jorge did a diabolical thing because he loved his truth so lewdly that he dared anything in order to destroy falsehood. ~ Umberto Eco

For once, Frances is stripped of irony. She is in the presence of something bigger
namely Herself. Or at least the self implied by her new body. This is how the Blessed Virgin visits us. She inhabits our own flesh and makes love out of it. Nothing is ironic in the moment of first love. And Frances is in love. With her body, and what it is bringing forth. ~ Ann-Marie MacDonald