Quotes About Comfort

She felt an odd, light-hearted indifference, as if she suddenly wanted nothing but the comfort of surrendering to helplessness.

Una transacción (en el sentido inmoral del término) no consiste en abandonar la comodidad personal, sino en abandonar las convicciones personales.

She wondered at the joyous, proud comfort to be found in a sense of the finite, in the knowledge that the field of one's concern lay within the realm of one's sight.

Can I sleep with you? asked Oz. Kinda scary in my room. Pretty sure I saw a troll in the corner. Lou said, Get up here. Oz climbed next to her. Oz suddenly looked troubled. When you get married, who am I going to come get in bed with when I'm scared, Lou? One day you're gonna get bigger than me, then I'm going to be running to you when I get scared. How do you know that? Because that's the deal God makes between big sisters and their little brothers.

Kita menganggap keimanan sebagai sumber kenyamanan dan pemahaman, tetapi mendapati ekspresi kita akan hal itu justru menyebarkan perpecahan. Kita percaya, diri kita adalah orang-orang yang toleran meskipun berbagai ketegangan rasial, agama, dan kultural mencemari lanskap kehidupan kita. Dan alih-alih berusaha menyelesaikan atau memediasi konflik ini, politik kita justru mengipasinya, mengeksploitasinya, dan menjadikan kita terpecah-belah.

We think of faith as a source of comfort and understanding but find our expressions of faith sowing division; we believe ourselves to be a tolerant people even as racial, religious, and cultural tensions roil the landscape.

Nested in the soft, forgiving bosom of America's consumer culture, I felt safe; it was as if I had dropped into a long hibernation.

I held my mother's hand, making sure she was comfortable before she settled in to rest. Then I went back to the hotel room and cried.

I grew comfortable enough [in the Oval Office] to put my feet up or sit on the desk ...

Looking back, I realize I was doing what most of us tend to do when we're uncertain or floundering: We reach for what feels familiar, what we think we're good at.

thirty-fifth birthday, and she was in her pajamas and bunny slippers, driving her daughter to school.

to us, family means putting your arms around each other and being there.

It looks like I'm going home, but it's not home. Maybe it's because I have no home. Or maybe it's because it's when I'm not home that I feel most at home, in a place that feels like home. When are we ever at home?

THE "GOING HOME" SYNDROME As human beings, we gravitate toward the familiar. We like to sleep on the same side of the bed each night, to park in the same space at work, to go back to our favorite vacation spot. Returning to the familiar is a basic instinct that gives our lives a sense of continuity and safety in a chaotic and changing universe.

Without people around, furniture has nothing to do but bear witness to the structural inadequacies of the human body: How much padding, cushioning, embracing, enfolding, and supporting we had needed just to stumble about through our days!

Well, Sage knows what it is to be mistreated and scared. She seems to relax with the horse. She eats her dinner at the stable now. Soon she'll want to sleep here. (pg. 91)

An older boy that never knew safety himself, trying to make us feel safe.

You can't know somebody, I thought, till you've followed him home.

I have long relied on the comforts of martyrdom.

my books only for the dear person who lies awake reading in bed until page last, then lets the open book fall gently on her face, to touch her smile or drink her tears.

In our darkest hours we may find comfort in the age-old slogan from the resistance movement, declaring that we shall not be moved. But we need to finish that sentence. Moved from where? Are we anchoring to the best of what we've believed in, throughout our history, or merely to an angry new mode of self-preservation? The American moral high ground can't possibly be an isolated mountaintop from which we refuse to learn anything at all to protect ourselves from monstrous losses.

Over the phone, her laughter sounded like a warm bath.

I didn't wish to be comforted. "You can't replace people you love with other people," I said. "They're not like old shoes or something." "No. But you can trust that you're not going to run out of people to love.

Something like that is as bad or as good as a telephone ringing in the night: either way, you're not as alone as you think.