Brighter Than Sunshine Quotes

As a photographer you have a deep love for light, life and yourself. You know that the eyes of love aren’t blind, they are wide open. Only when your eye, heart and soul shine brighter than the sun, you realize how ordinary it is to love the beautiful, and how beautiful it is to love the ordinary.

In your eyes I found something that shines brighter than a thousand rays of sunshine.

You shine brighter than the sun" "But even the sun goes away every night" "But it is hte sun's absence that makes us feel its power. We know the loss, the beauty and the life that the moon can't replace. That is why we hang on to each day we are given.

They had expected to see the grey, heathery slope of the moor going up and up to join the dull autumn sky. Instead, a blaze of sunshine met them. It poured through the doorway as the light of a June day pours into a garage when you open the door. It made the drops of water on the grass glitter like beads and showed up the dirtiness of Jill's tear-stained face. And the sunlight was coming from what certainly did look like a different world- what they could see it. They saw smooth turf, smoother and brighter than Jill had ever seen before, and blue sky and, darting to and fro, things so bright that they might have been jewels or huge butterflies.

Do you know why I call you sunshine?" He suddenly asks, serious. I shake my head, raising my eyebrows in question. "Because the first time I saw you, you were like the sun. The brightest fucking star, and I felt myself blinded by your light. You shine brighter than anyone I've ever seen, Gianna, and I can only say I'm the luckiest motherfucker that you choose to share your light with me." "Bass," I smile, his words touching me. "You can be very sweet sometimes." "I love you, Gianna. I may not have told you before, but I've loved you for so long it feels like forever.

The painting was a lie. A bright, pretty lie, bursting with pale pink blooms and fat beams of sunshine. I'd begun it yesterday, an idle study of the rose garden lurking beyond the open windows of the studio. Through the tangle of thorns and satiny leaves, the brighter greens of the hills rolled away into the distance. Incessant, unrelenting spring. If I'd painted this glimpse into the court the way my gut had urged me, it would have been flesh-shredding thorns, flowers that choked off the sunlight for any plants smaller than them, and rolling hills stained red. But each brushstroke on the wide canvas was calculated; each dab and swirl of blending colours meant to portray not just idyllic spring, but a sunny disposition as well. Not too happy, but gladly, finally healing from horrors I'd carefully divulged. I supposed that in the past weeks, I had crafted my demeanour as intricately as one of those paintings. I supposed that if I had also chosen to show myself as I truly wished, I would have adorned with flesh shredding talons, and hands that choked the life out of those now in my company. I would have left the gilded halls stained red.

When we travel, colors seem brighter and people nicer. Once we plant roots, and realize our fruits are getting rotten by the storms of ignorance and the winds of bad attitude in others, that's when we realize we need more sunshine than strong roots.

Hey, can you do me a favor?" "Anything." "Will you... Will you call me by my name?" She beams, her face brighter than the sun. He realizes just how fitting her name is. She's his ray of sunshine, his garden of Eden. She's a breath of fresh mountain air. She's the warmth of a calm fire in the middle of a dark winter evening. She's absolutely everything to him, so when she opens her mouth to say his name, the world suddenly clicks into place and makes sense. "Shang," she whispers, so soft, so sweet.

she asked again, this time more hesitantly, her voice barely a whisper. “Yeah?” I murmured sleepily, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. “I love you.” The words hung in the air, stopping time and my heart along with it. I felt like a kid who’d caught a soapy swirling bubble on the tip of my finger, afraid the slightest breeze might cause it to burst. Elation brighter than pure sunshine filled my chest. “I love you, too, Lina. More than you could ever comprehend.

divorce may have dimmed my world momentarily, but now i embrace the sunshine that shines brighter than ever before.

I love you.” The words hung in the air, stopping time and my heart along with it. I felt like a kid who’d caught a soapy swirling bubble on the tip of my finger, afraid the slightest breeze might cause it to burst. Elation brighter than pure sunshine filled my chest. “I love you, too, Lina. More than you could ever comprehend.

Oh, are you calling the cops, bitch? Maggie says, Yeah, I actually am! There is a counterprotest that same day. “West Fargo for Knodel.” Maggie watches it on television. It’s led by eight of Aaron Knodel’s current students. Most are female. They play sports and their Facebook profile pictures are assertive and tongue ridden. They wear short shorts and their legs are tan. They hold signs that say, Best teacher we’ve ever had #WF4Knodel Not Guilty #WF4Knodel Passing drivers slow and honk or speed up and scream. Cheers and sunshine. Now the Knodel family station wagon drives past. A photo is snapped. Marie is in the passenger seat, her hair up like a mom’s, her skin considerably brighter than it was in the courthouse, her mouth open like it’s whooping, Yeah! A boy is in the seat behind her, thumbs-upping out the open window, with a smaller boy beside him, looking confused. And Aaron is in the driver’s seat with a little white dog pressed between his rib cage and the steering wheel. On his face is a look of slightly embarrassed yet utterly exultant pride, like a sun over the funeral of an enemy.

Ocean and horizon are like trust and rest. Inseparable. If we don’t learn to trust God, we won’t experience true rest. Rest is a constant craving of our hearts, in the moments of our hardest days, in the weeks of our longest waits, in the months that bring more questions than answers. Physical rest is planned but spiritual rest is priority. When we trust God, we are teaching our souls to rest in Him no matter what happens. He’s here and He sees. What we need. Where we’re going. When is best. In the same way there’s a steady, refreshing breeze at the ocean’s edge, there’s a steadfast, reassuring purpose at the heart of God’s plan for our lives. Trust and rest come by believing His plans for us are always driven by perfect love. How do we keep our face toward our purpose and the love guiding it? We keep our focus on hope as ceaseless as the waves. We keep our confidence in faithfulness as sure as the sunrise. We keep our prayers grateful for God’s goodness and honest for our growth. He knows us and sees us with cloudless clarity. That should inspire us to trust Him with fearless courage. When we move through our days brave and hopeful, our souls find rest in a world that’s fighting to reel our minds and spirits in the opposite direction. Trusting God is the divine tug that will win us the battle. Today is another chance to remind ourselves that we need to give it all to God—the pain, the why-did-this-happen, the humanness of our doubt, the reality of our fears. He’ll take it all in one fell swoop of love, leaving in its place a lighter spirit, a brighter hope, and a deeper trust. The rest that follows will be like sunshine to our souls and as soothing as sand between our toes.