A Quote by Charles Bukowski
and love was lightning and remembrance
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I love in the Old Testament where they talk about Ebenezer so much... stones to remembrance. And it's like there's constant stones of remembrance of what God has done.
Never be without remembrance of Him, for His remembrance gives strength and wings to the bird of the Spirit.
Consumed by the agony of remembrance The remembrance of night's festive company The one remaining candle flickers and dies.
Mark Twain said, The right word is to the nearly right word as lightning is to the lightning bug. Fill your book with lightning.
There are two kinds of geniuses. The characteristic of the one is roaring, but the lightning is meagre and rarely strikes; the other kind is characterized by reflection by which it constrains itself or restrains the roaring. But the lightning is all the more intense; with the speed and sureness of lightning it hits the selected particular points - and is fatal.
The Anglo-Saxon farmers had scarce conquered foothold, stronghold, freehold in the Western wilderness before they became sowers of hemp--with remembrance of Virginia, with remembrance of dear ancestral Britain.
Oh, can I really believe the poet's tales, that when one first sees the object of one's love, one imagines one has seen her long ago, that all love like all knowledge is remembrance, that
love too has its prophecies in the individual.
Remembrance restores possibility to the past, making what happened incomplete and completing what never was. Remembrance is neither what happened nor what did not happen but, rather, their potentialization, their becoming possible once again.
I love Remembrance Sunday.
I'm a pure boxer. I have lightning speed that hurts guys. But I love to box. I love to be on my back foot. I love to work my jab and combinations.
What if I got hit by lightning while walking with an umbrella? Ban umbrellas! Fight the menace of lightning!
When the starry sky, a vista of open seas, or a stained-glass window shedding purple beams fascinate me, there is a cluster of meaning, of colors, of words, of caresses, there are light touches, scents, sighs, cadences that arise, shroud me, carry me away, and sweep me beyond the things I see, hear, or think, The "sublime" object dissolves in the raptures of a bottomless memory. It is such a memory, which, from stopping point to stopping point, remembrance to remembrance, love to love, transfers that object to the refulgent point of the dazzlement in which I stray in order to be.
Remembrance is a necessary expression of love, internally.
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.
Remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were.
She could walk through a lightning storm without being touched; grab a bolt of lightning in the palm of her hand; use the heat of lightning to start the kindling going under her medicine pot. She turned the moon into salve, the stars into swaddling cloth, and healed the wounds of every creature walking up on two or down on four.
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