Quotes About Comfort

Read your Bible, child; this world is not a paradise but a vale of tears.

It isn't always comfortable or easy—carrying your fear around with you on your great and ambitious road trip, I mean—but it's always worth it, because if you can't learn to travel comfortably alongside your fear, then you'll never be able to go anywhere interesting or do anything interesting.

Why It's Worth It It isn't always comfortable or easy—carrying your fear around with you on your great and ambitious road trip, I mean—but it's always worth it, because if you can't learn to travel comfortably alongside your fear, then you'll never be able to go anywhere interesting or do anything interesting.

In times of storm and tempest, of indecision and desolation, a book already known and loved makes better reading than something new and untried ... nothing is so warming and companionable.

Humanity can be roughly divided into three sorts of people - those who find comfort in literature, those who find comfort in personal adornment, and those who find comfort in food;

I had always thought of home not as a house, or even a place, but a feeling of safety and acceptance, a warm light when the rest of the world was a dark, forbidding place. Whenever my family was around, wherever we were, I felt like I was home.

He went to stand next to the bed and even though the room was unlit, he could make out, faintly, her slight form beneath the covers. The sight somehow calmed his soul. She lay in his bed, in his house, and no matter what bargain she thought she'd made with him, he knew the truth. He had no plans to let her go—ever.

His face had gone still and for a moment her heart sank and she had to fortify herself for a battle. But then his mouth quirked like that (...) and she knew even before he said anything else that it was all going to be fine--more than fine. It was going to be wonderful .

He thought he saw her smile waver when she read it, then she was hugging him tightly. "You're the one who needs to take care of yourself. Your escape is still all the news. They'll be searching for you." She drew back to look at him, and to his consternation he saw that she had tears in her eyes. "I couldn't bear to lose you again." He bent and kissed her forehead. Even if he could speak there was nothing he could say to comfort her.

She glanced at the man quickly. "Thank you." She meant to say more, but something was caught in her throat. Her eyes stung. "Weep not, proud Diana," Maximus murmured. "The moon will not allow it." "No." She agreed, swiping fiercely at her cheeks. "There's no need for tears yet.

Indio started forward and took the big man's hand as naturally as he'd taken his mother's. "Come on! Maude's making roast chicken and there'll be gravy and dumplings.

Will you make my house a home, Isabel?

Will you make my home a home, Isabel?

Even someone you've inhabited rooms with, and seen naked everyday, seen sitting on the toilet through a half-opened door, can fade out after a while and become an outline.

I preferred solitude anyway; it was the medium in which I had been raised, in which I swam comfortably.

God sees. God hears. God cares.

This is why you need everyone you know after a disaster, because there is not one right response. It's what paralyzes people around the grief-stricken, of course, the idea that there are right things to say and wrong things and it's better to say nothing than something clumsy.

As for me, I believe that if there's a God - and I am as neutral on the subject as is possible - then the most basic proof of His existence is black humor. What else explains it, that odd, reliable comfort that billows up at the worst moments, like a beautiful sunset woven out of the smoke over a bombed city.

Create a cozy resting place with a blanket and pillow. Dim the lights or turn them off, and unplug any phones or devices that could disturb the peace. Turn on soft music or white noise. Sprinkle lavender scents and then bring your child to this restful room. Get your child settled and give him a massage or read a book, sing, or tell a story.

Another technique is to sit beside the bed and lay your hands on him. If your baby stirs, you can pat, rub, or shush him to prevent him from fully waking.

I felt obligated by friendship as well as duty to make certain they were comfortably housed. Since men seem to measure comfort by the degree of dirt and confusion that prevails, I deduced that they were very comfortable.

I myself have no objection to comfort so long as it does not interfere with more important activities.

When my grandmother touches my hair in my sleep, I feel like a lost child. There is never enough of her to comfort me.

But the books brought me things. This is my point. They made me feel less alone.