Best Flesh Quotes

Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.

In each individual the spirit is made flesh, in each one the whole of creation suffers, in each one a Savior is crucified.

I myself, from the very beginning, Seemed to myself like someone’s dream or delirium Or a reflection in someone else’s mirror, Without flesh, without meaning, without a name. Already I knew the list of crimes That I was destined to commit.

Obamas finest speeches do not excite. They do not inform. They dont even really inspire. They elevate. . . . He is not the Word made flesh, but the triumph of word over flesh . . . Obama is, at his best, able to call us back to our highest selves.

As for environments, the kingliest being ever born in the flesh lay in a manger.

About dreams. It is usually taken for granted that you dream of something that has made a particularly strong impression on you during the day, but it seems to me it´s just the contrary. Often it´s something you paid no attention to at the time — a vague thought that you didn´t bother to think out to the end, words spoken without feeling and which passed unnoticed — these are the things that return at night, clothed in flesh and blood, and they become the subjects of dreams, as if to make up for having been ignored during waking hours.

Any closer would unravel her mystery, the very thing which made her so truly beautiful…It was her mystery that he adored. He was in love with everything that he did not know about her… No real sexual encounter could ever match the secret one that he could nurture in his imagination… No living flesh could ever be the erotic equal of flesh kept private, untouchable and unknowable

Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone, I here, though there, yet both but one.

There goes a saying, and ’twas shrewdly said, ”Old fish at table, but young flesh in bed.

I play these [folk acoustic] concerts and I ask myself, ‘Would you come see me tonight?’ – and I’d have to answer truthfully, ‘No, I wouldn’t come. I’d rather be doin’ something else, really I would. That something else is rock… The words are pictures, and the rock’s gonna help me flesh out the colors of the pictures. (1965)

I am always surprised by people who speak of faith as if it happens in the air somewhere. Our bodies are God’s best way of getting to us. Revelation begins in the flesh.

Everything from toy guns that sparkTo flesh-colored Christs that glow in the darkIt’s easy to see without looking too farThat not much is really sacred.

A mother’s body remembers her babies-the folds of soft flesh, the softly furred scalp against her nose. Each child has it’s own entreaties to body and soul.

Like the lion tears the flesh off a man, so can a woman who passes herself off as a male.

To avoid the hard necessity of either obeying or rejecting the plain instructions of our Lord in the New Testament we take refuge in a liberal interpretation of them. We evangelicals also know how to avoid the sharp point of obedience by means of fine and intricate explanations. These are tailor-made for the flesh. They excuse disobedience, comfort carnality and make the words of Christ of none effect. And the essence of it all is that Christ simply could not have meant what He said. His teachings are accepted even theoretically only after they have been weakened by interpretation.

There is a Restlessness springing from the consciousness of power not fully utilized, which must be present wherever there is unused power of whatever kind. This is the restlessness of the germ within the seed, struggling upward and downward towards its proper life.it is a striving full of pain, the cutting of tender flesh by the fetters of the captive as he struggles against their pitilessness.

The real reason women fall in love abroad is not that they are free of domestic inhibitions but that they translate their love of stone and place into love of flesh. … Is this true?

the heart,this child of myself that resides in the flesh,this ultimate signature of the me, the startof my blindness and sleep, builds a death crèche.

Then, brothers, it came. Oh, bliss, bliss and heaven. I lay all nagoy to the ceiling, my gulliver on my rookers on the pillow, glazzies closed, rot open in bliss, slooshying the sluice of lovely sounds. Oh, it was gorgeousness and gorgeosity made flesh.

He is our Father – the Father of our Spirits, and was once a man in mortal flesh as we are, and is now an exalted being.

You come off of this screaming audience of many, many thousands of people. I used to find it very weird. You have two choices. Either you can stay and pump flesh with hundreds of people after the show, which really gets old, or you can come off stage, get into the car, and go straight out the back and away, back to the hotel.

We are more than just flesh and bones. There’s a certain spiritual nature and something of the mind that we can’t measure. We can’t find it. With all our sophisticated equipment, we cannot monitor or define it, and yet it’s there.

Sharks are being driven to extinction because people want to eat their fins and their flesh.

So it follows that those who have reason have freedom to will or not to will, although this freedom is not equal in all of them. […] human souls are more free when they persevere in the contemplation of the mind of God, less free when they descend to the corporeal, and even less free when they are entirely imprisoned in earthly flesh and blood.

Not every legend is a myth, some are flesh and blood. Some legends walk among us, but they aren’t born, they’re built. Legends are made from iron & sweat, mind and muscle, blood and vision and victory. Legends are champions, they grow, they win, they conquer. There’s a legend behind every legacy, there’s a blueprint behind every legend.

Let us read the lives of the saints; let us consider the penances which they performed, and blush to be so effeminate and so fearful of mortifying our flesh.

Out of my flesh that hungers and my mouth that knows comes the shape I am seeking for reason.

I am a book also, words and thoughts and stories held together by flesh. We open and close ourselves to the world. We are read by others or put away by them. We wait to be seen, sitting quietly on shelves for someone to bother having a look inside us.

Writing is my passion. It is a way to experience the ecstatic. The root understanding of the word ecstasy—to stand outside—comes to me in those moments when I am immersed so deeply in the act of thinking and writing that everything else, even flesh, falls away.

One can imagine a time when men who still inhabit organic bodies are regarded with pity by those who have passed on to an infinitely richer mode of existence, capable of throwing their consciousness or sphere of attention instantaneously to any point on land, sea, or sky where there is a suitable sensing organ. In adolescence we leave childhood behind; one day there may be a second and more portentous adolescence, when we bid farewell to the flesh.

This really revolutionary revolution is to be achieved, not in the external world, but in the souls and flesh of human beings.

I like flesh. I do! Something to hold.

The Christian gospel is a message of freedom through grace and we must stand fast in the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free. But what shall we do with our freedom? The Apostle Paul grieved that some of the believers of his day took advantage of their freedom and indulged the flesh in the name of Christian liberty. They threw off discipline, scorned obedience and made gods of their own bellies.

How many times already had I encountered the painful lesson that although we may wish for the barb to be pulled from our flesh, it leaves a welt that doesn’t heal?

Nothing is more democratic, less judgmental, than water. Water doesn’t care whether flesh is withered or fresh; it caresses aged flesh and firm flesh with equal love.