A Quote by Boris Pasternak

A corner draft fluttered the flame And the white fever of temptation Upswept its angel wings that cast A cruciform shadow. — © Boris Pasternak
A corner draft fluttered the flame And the white fever of temptation Upswept its angel wings that cast A cruciform shadow.
When God's children pass under the shadow of the cross of Calvary, they know that through that shadow lies their passage to the great white throne. For them Gethsemane is as paradise. God fills it with sacred presences; its solemn silence is broken by the music of tender promises, its awful darkness softened and brightened by the sunlight of Heavenly faces and the music of angel wings.
Out of the corner of one eye, I could see my mother. Out of the corner of the other eye, I could see her shadow on the wall, cast there by the lamplight. It was a big and solid shadow, and it looked so much like my mother that I became frightened. For I could not be sure whether for the rest of my life I would be able to tell when it was really my mother and when it was really her shadow standing between me and the rest of the world.
His whole body was completely still, except the wings, which were still fluttering a little, like when someone dies. That's when he finally understood that of all the things the angel had told him, nothing was true. That he wasn't even an angel, just a liar with wings.
O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings.
The moth don't care when he sees the flame He might get burned, but he's in the game And once he's in, he can't go back He'll beat his wings till he burns them black No, the moth don't care when he sees the flame The moth don't care if the flame is real 'Cause flame and moth got a sweetheart deal And nothing fuels a good flirtation Like need and anger and desperation No, the moth don't care if the flame is real.
A person's shadow stood for his legacy, his impact on the world. Some people cast hardly any shadow at all. Some cast long, deep shadows that endured for centuries.
We are, in fact, hyper-dimentional objects of some sort which cast a shadow into matter, and the shadow in matter is the body. And at death, what happens basically, is that the shadow withdraws, or the thing which cast the shadow withdraws, and metabolism ceases, and matter which had been organized into a dissipative structure in a very localized area, sustaining itself against entropy by cycling material in and degrading it and expelling it, that whole phenomenon ceases, but the thing which ordered it is not affected by that.
...wings—-vast shimmering wings, their reach so great they swept the walls on either side of the alley, each feather like the wind-tugged lick of a candle flame.
In merest prudence men should teach . . . That science ranks as monstrous things Two pairs of upper limbs; so wings-- E'en Angel's wings!--are fictions.
His lashes, fluttered like butterfly wings. "I could've made you happy, dove." "You did," I whispered
Every time a good child dies, an angel of God comes down to earth. He takes the child in his arms, spreads out his great white wings, and flies with it all over the places the child loved on earth. The angel plucks a large handful of flowers, and they carry it with them up to God, where the flowers bloom more brightly than they ever did on earth.
If you cast an all-white movie and it doesn't do well, no one will say it's because you had an all-white cast.
As long as politics is the shadow cast on society by big business, the attenuation of the shadow will not change the substance.
When I was a child I thought I saw an angel. It had wings and kinda looked like my sister. I opened the door so some light could come into the room, and it sort of faded away. My mother said it was probably my Guardian Angel.
If you meet an angel, you will have not peace, but a fever.
Evil is the shadow of angel. Just as there are angels of light, support, guidance, healing and defense, so we have experiences of shadow angels. And we have names for them: racism, sexism, homophobia are all demons - but they're not out there.
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