Quotes About Comfort

We all have, she knew, a place where we're not only most comfortable, but most competent

When Peter walked into a room he always swept it until he found Clara. And then he relaxed.

Now she sat in front of him, nearly submerged under layers of thick sweaters and blankets. She looked like a laundry hamper without a head.

Clara found it easy to forgive most things in most people. Too easy, her husband Peter often warned. But Clara had her own little secret. She didn't really let go of everything. Most things, yes. But some she secretly held and hugged and would visit in moments when she needed to be comforted by the unkindness of others.

She threw great logs of 'I'm right, you're an unfeeling bastard' on to the fire and felt secure and comforted.

Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter for the other," Gamache quoted. Now you will feel no cold For each of you will be warmth for the other Now there is no loneliness for you Now there is no more loneliness Now there is no more loneliness.

Clara tried to give the eulogy, but couldn't speak. Her words stuck at the lump in her throat. And so Myrna took over, holding her hand while Clara stood beside her.

Getting in his car he let it warm up, feeling the heated seats grow warm under him. On a bitterly cold winter day it was almost as good as sex.

Julian of Norwich said it first, you know," said Myrna. "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

Clara rose with exaggerated calm. She took Jane in her arms and felt the old body creak back into place. Then she said a little prayer of thanks to the gods that give grace. The grace to cry and the grace to watch.

But, like peace, comfort didn't come from hiding away or running away. Comfort first demanded courage

Now you will feel no cold For each of you will be warmth for the other Now there is no loneliness for you Now there is no more loneliness Now there is no more loneliness.

the room was warming up and there was nothing quite like the comfort of being cold, then slowly feeling the heat approaching and arriving and spreading.

here, here, there was peace. The deep peace that comes not just with quiet, but with familiarity.

Ya no sentiréis frío, pues uno calentará al otro. Ya no existe la soledad para vosotros. Ya no existe la soledad. Nunca más habrá soledad.

Friends and neighbors hugged, and even kissed. Though it felt strange, and even slightly naughty. Some still preferred to bump elbows. Others continued to carry their masks. Like a rosary, or rabbit's foot, or a St. Christopher medal, promising safe passage.

You've seen worse, you've seen worse, you've seen worse," she muttered to herself. Harriet wondered if that could possibly be true. It was also a strange, though oddly comforting, mantra. One she knew she could use for the rest of her life.

She didn't really let go of everything. Most things, yes. But some she secretly held and hugged and would visit in moments when she needed to be comforted by the unkindness of others.

Well, take this then. Ruth had written. Have some more body. Drink and eat. You'll just make yourself sick. Sicker. You won't be cured.

no easy words of comfort. To do that would be to simply comfort themselves. What Monsieur Béliveau needed was to feel bad. And then he'd feel better. Now,

When he looked at her he didn't see the wild, untamable hair, the billowing frocks, the Dollar-rama store horn-rimmed spectacles. No. He saw his safe harbor.

No place could ever be warmer than Three Pines.

Snow was coming down thicker now. But while it was heavy, it was also gentle. Like feathers out of a broken pillow.

au lait. "We all