Quotes About Comfort

I admire addicts. In a world where everybody is waiting for some blind, random disaster or some sudden disease, the addict has the comfort of knowing what will most likely wait for him down the road. He's taken some control over his ultimate fate, and his addiction keeps the cause of his death from being a total surprise.

It's called a culling song. In some ancient cultures, they sang it to children during famines or droughts, anytime the tribe had outgrown its land. It was sung to warriors injured in accidents or the very old or anyone dying. It was used to end misery and pain. It's a lullaby.

Aquí no puede pasarte nada malo. No es como en la escuela. O como en casa.

People like the illusion of choice. Gives them comfort in these strange times.

Some of life's best moments are during a good bowel movement, and to have that robbed from you, I can't even imagine.

That's part of the political job. To give comfort." Not to do the right thing, Benji thought, but to give comfort. Even when it wasn't appropriate to do so. The way the man spoke about Americans with such disregard rankled Benji. Shovel hot dogs. Dump beer. He really did see them as animals to be led around by the nose.

HELLO. I AM ENJOYING THIS HUG, TOO. HUG HUG HUG. A HUG IS LIKE VIOLENCE MADE OF LOVE.

Wisdom is the only thing which can banish sorrow from the breast .

What do I want? What kind of question is that? I want what everybody wants. I want someone who has my back. I want someone's name to put in the space after in an emergecy please call. I want someone who will drink the other half of the bottle of wine so I don't. And someone to make it worth sitting down at an actual table to eat. I want someone who's dying to get home after a long day because I'm going to be there.

beneath his head, closing his eyes to put Jack more at his ease. He felt the light touch of Jack's calloused fingers on his belly, then

You'll stay here with me? Yeah If I fall asleep like this ... the first thing i'll see when I wake up ... will be you.

Humans create terrible things. Why do they make things that only bring them pain? It's because they don't know what's comfortable anymore. So perhaps they don't know that they are in pain…

Humans create terrible things. Why do they make things that only bring them pain? It's because they don't know what's comfortable anymore. So perhaps they don't know they are in pain.

Holding someone's hand was always my idea of joy. Often before falling asleep - in that small struggle not to lose consciousness and enter the greater world - often, before having the courage to go toward the greatness of sleep, I pretend that someone is holding my hand and I go, go toward the enormous absence of form that is sleep. And when even then I can't find the courage, then I dream.

When I have my interview with God, our conversation will focus on the individuals whose self-esteem I was able to strengthen, whose faith I was able to reinforce, and whose discomfort I was able to assuage—a doer of good, regardless of what assignment I had. These are the metrics that matter in measuring my life.

It is important to address hygiene factors such as a safe and comfortable working environment, relationship with managers and colleagues, enough money to look after your family—if you don't have these things, you'll experience dissatisfaction with your work. But these alone won't do anything to make you love your job—they will just stop you from hating it.

The happiest moments of my life have been the few which I have passed at home in the bosom of my family. —Thomas Jefferson

No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home. —L. FRANK BAUM, THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ

But the bars that held you, the bars that kept you in were the luxury and soft living. It is hard to walk out on a thing like that

Squatted beside the fire, with the warmth of it upon his face and hands, he felt a smug contentment that seemed strangely out of place--the contentment of a man who had reduced his needs to the strictly basic--and with the contentment came a full-bodied confidence that was just as out of place.

It must be wonderful, I thought, to be, not exactly rich, but to have enough so you didn't have to worry when there was some little thing you wanted, not to have to wonder if it would be all right if you spent the money for it. To be able to live in a house like this, to line the walls with books and have rich draperies and to have more than just one bottle of booze and a place to keep it other than a kitchen shelf.

There was little comfort, this voice inside him said, in discovering a mystery at the wellspring of his life so banal his unremarkable mind could readily fathom it. Better, perhaps, to die in doubt, knowing there was some revelation still unfound, than to pursue and possess such a wretched certainty.

She had witnessed in nauseating detail how the human world worked: its rituals of comfort (television, food, religion); its appetite for poison (television, food, religion); and for the monstrous edifices of desire (television, food, religion): she understood them all.

Indifference was the best remedy. Once you conceded defeat, life was a feather bed.