Brighter Than The Sun Quotes

If you tried, you could shine brighter than the fucking sun. Instead, you’ve chosen to sit back and wither.

There is a light within our soul that burns brighter than the sun. And we ignore it.

You deserve a love that's deeper than the ocean. A love that's brighter than the sun. A love that's higher than the mountains. A love that you can only find inside yourself.

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.

He shakes his head. “No, Auren. You’re the one that needs to burn. You need to spark to life and fight. Stop letting him dull you, stop letting the whole fucking world trample you,” he shouts, making me flinch from the vehement demand. “If you tried, you could shine brighter than the fucking sun. Instead, you’ve chosen to sit back and wither.

we're anything brighter than even the sun

It’s horribly cliché, but his smile is beaming—far brighter than the sun. I feel myself bloom with it, as if it’s my own personal version of photosynthesis.

Just say it,” Eva said with a smile. “I’ve never said it. To anyone.” “It won’t hurt, I promise.” Shane grinned, a heart-stopping thing. Then laid his face on her breasts, closing his eyes. “Ready?” he asked. “Ready.” “I love you,” said Shane. “Dramatically, violently, and forever.” She kissed the top of his head, smiling brighter than the sun. “I’ve always loved you,” he whispered. “What a coincidence,” she whispered back. “I’ve always loved you, too.

At night a candle's brighter than the sun

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.

Did you know I dream about your hair? I use to say it was the color of the sun at sunset, but I'm wrong. It's brighter than the sun, just as you are.

I couldn't see much, but it somehow seemed brighter across the wall, as if the sun gave more of it's light to the west. Maybe the people there were more selfish, I thought. Because we needed that sunlight far more than they did.

I am apparently the complete opposite of a sociopath. (Seriously. I took a test.) WHEW! ‪#‎dodgedabullet‬

The stern of the ship faced the Solar System, where the sun was by now no more than a yellow star just a bit brighter than the rest. The peripheral spiral arm of the Milky Way lay in this direction, its stars sparse. The depth and expanse of deep space exhibited an arrogance that left no support for the mind or the eyes. “Dark. It’s so fucking dark,” the captain murmured, and then shot himself.

Anger is an assertion of rights and worth. It is communication, equality, and knowledge. It is intimacy, acceptance, fearlessness, embodiment, revolt, and reconciliation. Anger is memory and rage. It is rational thought and irrational pain. Anger is freedom, independence, expansiveness, and entitlement. It is justice, passion, clarity, and motivation. Anger is instrumental, thoughtful, complicated, and resolved. In anger, whether you like it or not, there is truth. Anger is the demand of accountability, It is evaluation, judgment, and refutation. It is reflective, visionary, and participatory. It's a speech act, a social statement, an intention, and a purpose. It's a risk and a threat. A confirmation and a wish. It is both powerlessness and power, palliative and a provocation. In anger, you will find both ferocity and comfort, vulnerability and hurt. Anger is the expression of hope. How much anger is too much? Certainly not the anger that, for many of us, is a remembering of a self we learned to hide and quiet. It is willful and disobedient. It is survival, liberation, creativity, urgency, and vibrancy. It is a statement of need. An insistence of acknowledgment. Anger is a boundary. Anger is boundless. An opportunity for contemplation and self-awareness. It is commitment. Empathy. Self-love. Social responsibility. If it is poison, it is also the antidote. The anger we have as women is an act of radical imagination. Angry women burn brighter than the sun. In the coming years, we will hear, again, that anger is a destructive force, to be controlled. Watch carefully, because not everyone is asked to do this in equal measure. Women, especially, will be told to set our anger aside in favor of a kinder, gentler approach to change. This is a false juxtaposition. Reenvisioned, anger can be the most feminine of virtues: compassionate, fierce, wise, and powerful. The women I admire most—those who have looked to themselves and the limitations and adversities that come with our bodies and the expectations that come with them—have all found ways to transform their anger into meaningful change. In them, anger has moved from debilitation to liberation. Your anger is a gift you give to yourself and the world that is yours. In anger, I have lived more fully, freely, intensely, sensitively, and politically. If ever there was a time not to silence yourself, to channel your anger into healthy places and choices, this is it.

Alice was an odd girl, even for Ferenwood, where the sun occasionally rained and the colors were brighter than usual and magic was as common as a frowning parent.

And no light was brighter than Noco di Angelo.

The driver got out smiling. He looked about seventeen or eighteen, and for a second, I had the uneasy feeling it was Luke, my old enemy. This guy had the same sandy hair and outdoorsy good looks. But it wasn't Luke. His smile was brighter and more playful. (Luke didn't do much more than scowl and sneer these days.) The Maserati driver wore jeans and loafers and a sleeveless T-shirt. "Wow" Thalia muttered. Apollo Is hot." "He's the sun god," I said. "That's not what I meant.

I want the reader to understand, that at this time I had a good experience, a pure heart, was full of the love of God, but was not qualified for God's work. I knew that I was but a worm. God would have to take a worm to thresh a mountain. Then I asked God to give me the power he gave the Galilean fishermen - to anoint me for service. I came like a child asking for bread. I looked for it... God did not disappoint me. The power of the Holy ghost came down like a cloud. It was brighter than the sun. I was covered and, wrapped in it. I was baptized with the Holy Ghost, and Fire, and power, which has never left me. There was liquid fire, and the angels were all around me in fire and glory.

Because somehow, the sun rises each day. Emerging from the horizon, brighter and more beautiful than the previous day. You'll rise from the horizon too, learning to trust again. Learning to love again. Learning to heal. You'll emerge so bright that the haters will be blinded. And darling, you'll be the sun then, bright and beautiful, but they won't be your sunflowers.

I knew she could burn brighter than the sun if she only stepped out of his shade. But fuck. Even my faith in her strength didn’t match up to just how magnificent she really is. That’s my girl.

if everything happens that can't be done (and anything's righter than books could plan) the stupidest teacher will almost guess (with a run skip around we go yes) there's nothing as something as one one hasn't a why or because or although (and buds know better than books don't grow) one's anything old being everything new (with a what which around we come who) one's everyanything so so world is a leaf so tree is a bough (and birds sing sweeter than books tell how) so here is away and so your is a my (with a down up around again fly) forever was never till now now i love you and you love me (and books are shutter than books can be) and deep in the high that does nothing but fall (with a shout each around we go all) there's somebody calling who's we we're anything brighter than even the sun (we're everything greater than books might mean) we're everanything more than believe (with a spin leap alive we're alive) we're wonderful one times one

He smacked the heel of his hand against his forhead, as if that could knock the mental picture out of his head. Hell, he though irritably, he didn't want to knock the image just out of his head. He wanted to send it clear across the room and out the window.

I like the idea of you on an island..." "Oh...why's that?" She's squinting up at me, her eyes brighter than the sea in the setting sun. "I could keep you all to myself. You'd be trapped, only able to come and go as I please...I'd be your Caesar..." She laughs and reaches her hand out to me, "Don't you already have that power...without need of a sea?

I don’t understand people. They smile when they are mad. They hug people they hate. They steal from people they genuinely love. And they are jealous of babies.

god's terrible face brighter than a spoon collects the image of one fatal word; so that my life(which liked the sun and the moon) resembles something that has not occurred: i am a birdcage without any bird a collar looking for a dog a kiss without lips;a prayer lacking any knees but something beats within my shirt to prove he is undead who living noone is. I have never loved you dear as now i love.

Fire needs sure to live. Sure field fire, strikes it, and makes it burn brighter and hotter than it are could alone. But too much air will sniff it completely, just as too many flames will consume all the air.They are far greater that the Sun of their parts together, but are equally as dangerous to each other's existence.

In Beirut, death’s unremitting light shines bright for all to see, brighter than the Mediterranean sun, brighter than the night’s Russian missiles, brighter than a baby’s smile.

Trapped in inferno It blazed brighter than the sun His desire for her

oh this is how it starts lightning strikes your heart, and it goes off like a gun, brighter than the sun....

Am I not allowed to speak in hyperbole?" "Only," he said, a bit too smoothly, "if you are talking about me." Ellie's face slid into a smirk. "Oh, Charles," she exclaimed, "I feel as if we have known each other for a million years." Her tone grew more ironic. "I am that weary of your company.

Love is... I don't know. Something bigger than that. It's like the sun." "In that you can get burnt by it?" "No," she says wearily, but already her eyes have that starry quality they get whenever she's thinking of Alex. "In that it makes everything brighter and happier. And it warms you from the inside out.

My own little wolf, with sharp teeth and stormy eyes. All shattered pieces and jagged edges that shone brighter than the sun. A soul as dark and strange as my own. She was mine, and I was hers, for the rest of eternity.

Pride roars through me like a river. It rushes over my oldest wounds and washes away the most haunting memories. It sweeps over all the scars that pushed me to leave my family and launch into space. Pride brighter than the sun.

Your fangs are showing, Miss Lyndon." "Are they?" she asked, reaching up to touch her face. "I shall have to remember to retract them." Charles burst out laughing. "You, Miss Lyndon, are a treasure." "That's what I keep telling everyone," she said with a shrug and a wicked smile, "but no one seems to believe me.

It’s the other things he does, the things that crush me on the inside, that make me want to die. I would have if not for Dutch’s light. I would be dead. I know it. I wish it were real. I wish she were real. She’s getting older and more beautiful with each passing day, and even though she’s a figment of my fucked-up imagination, I love her. To the very depths of my soul.

"What do you say, Miss Lyndon? Shall we have a go at it?" " 'Shall we have a go at it?' " Ellie choked out. Really, this was not the proposal of her dreams.

Her dad shows up, and instead of getting mad at Denise, he wraps his arm around her and helps her to his car like she's crippled. I could've crippled her. Missed my chance.

Tonight we are young, so we set the world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun

I wanted to skewer her with a stare, flay her with a frown, impale her with a—I say, what are you doing?" Charles would have answered her, but he was laughing so hard he was doubled over.

Amador and Bianca have a great life that I'm only a little jealous of. They have two kids they bring to see me. His daughter, Ashlee, is almost five now. She has asked me to marry her when I get out. It feels kind of weird since she calls me Uncle Reyes and incest is frowned upon, but who am I to argue with true love?

Dear Yesteryear, I do not feel alone anymore. I have found love. Maybe I should say love has found me. Well, to be fair, we found each other. Yesterday, I didn’t have a home. Yesterday, I didn’t have a pillow where I could lay my head. Yesterday, it was hard to find peace. Yesterday, I wondered if morning would ever come. Yesterday, I was unable to love, dream, and trust. Yesterday, I didn’t understand life. Yesterday, I was walking in my shadow. I didn’t know if I had meaning or a purpose. I am healing from my yesteryears. However, I am still rough around the edges and still have a lot to learn. I used to be so empty inside, but now I have lovely people to fill my no-longer-empty arms. Yesterday, my path was different. I was confused, not knowing if I should go right or left— move forward or turn around. I do not know what life has in store, but I know for a fact that I do not have to worry about the deadly and narrow path anymore. Yesterday, my sun was blocked by my shadows and everything thing else that came along that didn’t serve me. However, today, the sun is shining brighter than it ever has in my entire life. Yesterday, I will never forget you. You’ve taught me many lessons. I was taught lessons that a young person should never experience or even know about. Some lessons in life leave permitted marks. There have been many lessons I’ve learned that have left so many scars on my heart, but life goes on. I use to be overwhelmed by hate, disbelief, and not knowing if I was going to make it. Now, I am surrounded by warm hugs, smiles, love, and peace. Yesteryear, you will never be forgotten. I am healing, and it is a beautiful thing.

Sun-brushed hands trailed circles on his wings, opening new ways to touch the sky. The dance is the dalliance of the whispers, unsaid desires brighter than eternal suns. His teeth of flint and steel, the sun boy’s lips like ichor.

We found each other in darkness and made our own light. Together, we burned brighter than anything that awaited us on the other side. - the sun has nothing on you.

There was something about Miss Lyndon that made him glad she was on his side. Not that he thought she would make a vicious enemy, just that she seemed loyal, level-headed, and fair. And she had a wicked sense of humor. Just the sort of person a man would want standing beside him when he needed support.

As he spoke and bent his head to hers, their lips meeting and the soft, warm creatures of their mouths joining blissfully, his eyes glittered and shone, brighter for a moment than the sun that rose like a crystal, whole and complete in the sky.

For a long time I only stare. A thousand thoughts hit me at once, the least of which is the fact that she is real. Flesh and blood. Dutch. Her light soaks into me. Begins to heal me instantly. I begin to calm. To slow my breathing. To clear my head. I don’t know what to think, other than the fact that she is more beautiful than I ever dreamed. She is real. And she has seen me. The real me. I have no robes to hide beneath now. No cloak.

The sun hitched up her trousers and soldiered on up into the sky. September squinted at it and wondered if the sun here was different than the sun in Nebraska. It seemed gentler, more golden, deeper. The shadows it cast seemed more profound. But September could not be sure. When one is traveling, everything looks brighter and lovelier. That does not mean that it is brighter and lovelier; it just means that sweet, kindly home suffers in comparison to tarted-up foreign places with all their jewels on.

The sun is nothing next to you." He licked along my bottom lip, then the top. "The sad little stars too. All fucking impressed." [...] "You are the original light Anya. Brighter than them all

He poked her shoulder. 'Ellie? Ellie?' 'What? Oh, I'm sorry.' Her face colored, even though she knew he couldn't possibly read her thoughts. 'Just woolgathering.' 'Darling, you were practically hugging a sheep.

Ellie fought the urge to stamp her foot. "I meant it this time. Do you accept my apology?" "It appears," he said, raising his eyebrows, "that you might do me bodily harm if I do not." "Ungracious prig," she muttered. "I am trying to apologize." "And I," he said, "am trying to accept.

I didn’t realize how much I could miss a simple touch until I didn’t have it anymore. It’s so easy to let her back in. To let her wiggle her way back into my arms and smile up at me like she is the sun and I am every star in her sky. When you spend your life in the dark, looking up and wishing for something better – something brighter – you don’t realize just how lonely you are. Not until the sun shines, shedding light on all the empty spaces and filling them with beautiful warmth. But when the sun abandons you, everything seems darks and colder than before. Emptier. Lonelier.

Believe me, a highly strung brain such as yours demands occasional relaxation from the strain of domestic surroundings. Forget for a little while that children want music lessons, and boots, and bicycles, with tincture of rhubarb three times a day; forget there are such things in life as cooks, and house decorators, and next-door dogs, and butchers’ bills. Go away to some green corner of the earth, where all is new and strange to you, where your over-wrought mind will gather peace and fresh ideas. Go away for a space and give me time to miss you, and to reflect upon your goodness and virtue, which, continually present with me, I may, human-like, be apt to forget, as one, through use, grows indifferent to the blessing of the sun and the beauty of the moon. Go away, and come back refreshed in mind and body, a brighter, better man—if that be possible—than when you went away.

Why did I have to get a job for a guy who’s hotter than the sun and makes my world a brighter place than it’s ever been?

When I'm not scouring through the backstreets of every city in the state, I keep an eye on the girl. My girl.

Together we glow Brighter than the sun and moon Combined, we are love.

When you shine brighter than the sun, it’s hard for others to look at you, so you have two choices: look and be blinded with resentment or look away.

Pure gold does not fear the fire—it endures it. In the end, it will shine brighter than the sun, and the sun cannot be caged.

Lord Ranmaru, traitor and thief, will you marry a fallen woman with no chance of redemption in the eyes of our court?” Ōkami laughed before he swept Mariko into his arms. “Yes,” he whispered in her ear. The feeling of warmth as his breath passed over her skin sent a thrill up Mariko’s spine. “And will you swear never to interfere when I experiment with strange chemicals at all hours of the night?” “Of course.” Ōkami framed her face between his hands. “Upon who else would I rely for exploding gourds and crystals that burn brighter than flame?

The most striking impression was that of an overwhelming bright light. I had seen under similar conditions the explosion of a large amount—100 tons—of normal explosives in the April test, and I was flabbergasted by the new spectacle. We saw the whole sky flash with unbelievable brightness in spite of the very dark glasses we wore. Our eyes were accommodated to darkness, and thus even if the sudden light had been only normal daylight it would have appeared to us much brighter than usual, but we know from measurements that the flash of the bomb was many times brighter than the sun. In a fraction of a second, at our distance, one received enough light to produce a sunburn. I was near Fermi at the time of the explosion, but I do not remember what we said, if anything. I believe that for a moment I thought the explosion might set fire to the atmosphere and thus finish the earth, even though I knew that this was not possible.

Hush!’ said the Cabby. They all listened. In the darkness something was happening at last. A voice had begun to sing. It was very far away and Digory found it hard to decide from what direction it was coming. Sometimes it seemed to come from all directions at once. Sometimes he almost thought it was coming out of the earth beneath them. Its lower notes were deep enough to be the voice of the earth herself. There were no words. There was hardly even a tune. But it was, beyond comparison, the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. It was so beautiful he could hardly bear it… ‘Gawd!’ said the Cabby. ‘Ain’t it lovely?’ Then two wonders happened at the same moment. One was that the voice was suddenly joined by other voices; more voices than you could possibly count. They were in harmony with it, but far higher up the scale: cold, tingling, silvery voices. The second wonder was that the blackness overhead, all at once, was blazing with stars. They didn’t come out gently one by one, as they do on a summer evening. One moment there had been nothing but darkness; next moment a thousand, thousand points of light leaped out – single stars, constellations, and planets, brighter and bigger than any in our world. There were no clouds. The new stars and the new voices began at exactly the same time. If you had seen and heard it , as Digory did, you would have felt quite certain that it was the stars themselves who were singing, and that it was the First Voice, the deep one, which had made them appear and made them sing. ‘Glory be!’ said the Cabby. ‘I’d ha’ been a better man all my life if I’d known there were things like this.’ …Far away, and down near the horizon, the sky began to turn grey. A light wind, very fresh, began to stir. The sky, in that one place, grew slowly and steadily paler. You could see shapes of hills standing up dark against it. All the time the Voice went on singing…The eastern sky changed from white to pink and from pink to gold. The Voice rose and rose, till all the air was shaking with it. And just as it swelled to the mightiest and most glorious sound it had yet produced, the sun arose. Digory had never seen such a sun…You could imagine that it laughed for joy as it came up. And as its beams shot across the land the travellers could see for the first time what sort of place they were in. It was a valley through which a broad, swift river wound its way, flowing eastward towards the sun. Southward there were mountains, northward there were lower hills. But it was a valley of mere earth, rock and water; there was not a tree, not a bush, not a blade of grass to be seen. The earth was of many colours: they were fresh, hot and vivid. They made you feel excited; until you saw the Singer himself, and then you forgot everything else. It was a Lion. Huge, shaggy, and bright it stood facing the risen sun. Its mouth was wide open in song and it was about three hundred yards away.

There's another part, an obstinate part, that wants more. That wants Dutch live and in the flesh. That wants her hand. Her mouth. Her hips under mine. It wants all of her. Every last ounce. Body and soul.

The dreams continue for over a month. Each reveals a new facet of her personality. One night, she is wild and unpredictable. The next, she is shy or giggly or coy. She laughs and growls and bites and sucks.

The thing is I loved you so much and I would have done everything for you And it keeps me up on nights like this where the moon shines brighter than the sun’s glare in the morning sky that you’re not here with me And the thing is I loved you so much more than you deserved and it wasn’t enough I wasn’t enough.

When love is new, it's brighter than the sun and 30 times as great as the force of the atomic bomb dropped and felt from your heart, but to some people it will slowly fade but to me it will always be the same.

But I have burnt within thee as a pure flame without oil. In the midnight I was brighter than the moon; in the daytime I exceeded utterly the sun; in the byways of thy being I flamed, and dispelled the illusion.

I also become the local computer nerd. The administration brings me in to fix all the computers, I create viruses to invade at a specific day and time. They call me in, and I eradicate my own virus, only to plant another one to go into effect a couple months later. They ask me why I can't just fix the computers once and for all. I tell them to quit going to porn sites and it will stay fixed. That shuts them up every time.

Do you know why I call you Estella?” Mateo asked, lacing his fingers with mine and raising our hands up into the big blue sky. “Why?” “Because you are my star,” he said, his voice low and smooth, raising the hairs on my arms. “You shine brighter than the sun.” “But even the sun goes away every night.” “But it is the 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. That is why I hang on to you.” He lowered our hands and kissed my knuckles. “I love you, Vera. I’ve had the moon, the dark, the cold, for too long. I want my star back. My Estrella.

Nothing in this life lasts forever. Your dark season will come to an end. And chances are, it won’t take until your dying day. It won’t kill you. Things might look bleak at first, but they can improve. With night and day, God has given us a picture of hope. The sun always rises. Things will always get brighter. “The end of a matter is better than its beginning” (Ecclesiastes 7:8).

How old are you, anyway?" "How old are you?" "Seventeen." I raise a brow. "Almost. I'll be seventeen in two weeks. You?" Part of me doesn't want to tell her. She'll be horrified. But part of me wants to know what she will do when she knows the truth. "How old do you think I am?" She lifts a slender shoulder. "At first I thought maybe eighteen, but now I'm thinking at least nineteen. Maybe even twenty?" "why's that?" "You seem very ... experienced." I nod. "You're close. Today's my birthday. I'm thirteen.

Suppose a Sun many times brighter than our Sun comes up in the sky. After we get used to its light, it goes away. Then our Sun will feel like moon to us and what we call as “light” will seem like darkness. So light and darkness are relative terms. Darkness is just less light.

Charlie and Douglas were the last to stand near the opened tongue of the trolley, the folding step, breathing electricity, watching Mr. Tridden's gloves on the brass controls.... "Well...so long again, Mir. Tridden." "Good-by, boys." "See you around, Mr. Tridden." "See you around." There was a soft sigh of the air; the door collapsed gently shut, tucking up its corrugated tongue. The trolley sailed slowly down the late afternoon, brighter than the sun, all tangerine, all flashing gold and lemon, turned a far corner, wheeling, and vanished, gone away.

As she moved toward the water closet, I asked her a question. A very old question. “Valka,” I said, and cleared my throat. “Am I a good man?” She turned then—hands on the door frame—and surveyed me a long time. What did she see with those inhuman eyes? Those eyes that saw everything without exception, without distortion? A smile split her face. A true smile, brighter even than her pity had been bright. “You’re still asking that question?” she managed to say, laughter cracking her words. “After all this time?” I could only blink at her. “Do you not have your answer a hundred times over?” A brief tremor shook her arm, but she hid it behind her back and shook her head again. “Monsters don’t have doubts.

In the nights afterwards I used to wake up with my mind full of those headlights, brighter and deeper than the sun. I saw them again behind my eyelids in that dark lane, and I understood then that I could have just kept driving. I could have been like Lexie. I could have hit full speed and taken us soaring up off the road, into the vast silence at the heart of those lights and out on the other side where nothing could touch us, ever.

everything. I would never want depression to be a public or political excuse, but I think that once you have gone through it, you get a greater and more immediate understanding of the temporary absence of judgment that makes people behave so badly—you learn even, perhaps, how to tolerate the evil in the world.” On the happy day when we lose depression, we will lose a great deal with it. If the earth could feed itself and us without rain, and if we conquered the weather and declared permanent sun, would we not miss grey days and summer storms? As the sun seems brighter and more clear when it comes on a rare day of English summer after ten months of dismal skies than it can ever seem in the tropics, so recent happiness feels enormous and embracing and beyond anything I have ever imagined. Curiously enough, I love my depression. I do not love experiencing my depression, but I love the depression itself. I love who I am in the wake of it. Schopenhauer said, “Man is [content] according to how dull and insensitive he is”; Tennessee Williams, asked for the definition of happiness, replied “insensitivity.” I do not agree with them. Since I have been to the Gulag and survived it, I know that if I have to go to the Gulag again, I could survive that also; I’m more confident in some odd way than I’ve ever imagined being. This almost (but not quite) makes the depression seem worth it. I do not think that I will ever again try to kill myself; nor do I think

Above the curving arc of the planet, a mammoth explosion plumed crimson and charcoal then erupted in a starburst of crystaline white which for a microsecond shone brighter than a sun. For the briefest moment he allowed himself to entertain the notion that they might win this battle. Then the real battle began.

I'd wager you have a vengeful streak a mile wide," he muttered. "I am the least vengeful person I know," she said with a sniff. "And if you think otherwise, then perhaps you ought not to marry me." "You're marrying me," he ground out, "if I have to drag you to the altar bound and gagged." Ellie smiled waspishly. "You could try," she taunted, "but in your condition you couldn't drag a flea." "And you say you're not vengeful." "I seem to be developing a taste for it.

Want to create a reward you really love? When new ideas or new goals get shiny, put them at the finish line. Don’t try to grow callous to the shiny objects; if anything, let them gleam. Let them be brighter than the noonday sun. Just make sure they point the way to the finish line. No podcast until the book is done.

Ellie had a feeling he thought she was exaggerating. "I am not jesting. Yesterday she presented me with two lists. The first consisted of chores I must perform in addition to those I already do." "What, did she have you cleaning out the chimney?" Charles teased. "Yes!" Ellie burst out. "Yes, and it was not a joke!"

His lips lock onto mine and my knees go weak. The sweetness shoots through my mouth, sinking into every part of my brain. Then his lips part, and without thinking I match him bit by bit until our tongues touch, and something new I can’t explain surges through me. If I were to glow with how much I want him right now, I’d be brighter than the sun.

Saints, Lorelei," Sylvia snapped, and it felt like an absolution. "You are human. Do you understand what's happened here? You've acted the part of a villain so well, you've gone and convinced yourself it's who you truly are. You are honestly one of the least self-aware people I have ever met!" "I am perfectly self-aware! You are brighter than the sun itself. And me..." "Enough." Her voice wobbled. "You've made mistakes, as have we all. But don't you see yourself? You are witty and observant. You are fiercely protective of those you care for - and hopelessly loyal, in your way. I don't believe you've ever once acted completely in your own interest, for better or worse. I have always admired that about you.

Man, was he going to get shit for throwing in with the women, but hell, ask him if he gave a fuck.

And to the girls—may you see yourselves in books, may you write your own, and may your strength burn brighter than any sun.

It felt like the sun was shining brighter that day, the birds were chirping louder, and I wanted to do cartwheels across campus.

In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in the case of poetry it is the exact opposite!

It is simply a matter of making sure they realize that you are comfortable with them. Once they realize that, they will be comfortable with you.

His features were pretty yet, and his eye and complexion brighter than I remembered them, though with merely temporary lustre borrowed from the salubrious air and genial sun.

Yesterday, my sun was blocked by my shadows and everything thing else that came along that didn’t serve me. However, today, the sun is shining brighter than it ever has in my entire life.

He kissed me like the horizon kisses the sun as it sets — tenderly, with the blinding promise that another day would come. With that kiss, we sealed our choice. With that kiss, we shut the door on the past. And with that kiss, with my hands over his, and his over our child, we began a new chapter in our story — together. And I knew this one would be brighter than the last.

He raked his hand through his hair. 'This is more difficult than I'd anticipated.' Good, she thought. If he was going to break her heart, she didn't want it to be easy for him. 'What I'm trying to say is that I had it all wrong. I don't want a wife who...' 'You don't want a wife?' she choked. 'No!' he practically yelled. Then he continued in a more normal tone, 'I don't want a wife who will look the other way if I stray.' 'You want me to /watch?/ 'No, I want you to be furious.' Ellie was by now on the verge of tears. 'You deliberately want to make me angry? To hurt me?' 'No. Oh, God, you've got it all wrong...I just want you to love me so much that if I did [be unfaithful] - which I'm not going to - you would want to have me drawn and quartered.

The sun rising on the horizon is more than a good sign; it's a powerful omen to say that we can still hope and dream. Every day is a new chance to change and make it better for a brighter future.

the older man put one hand on Joe’s shoulder, his expression serious as he focused his attention on Joe. “Son, a good woman is hard to find and a priceless treasure. Never forget God’s gift to you or His grace, and always turn to Him in times of hardship. Be her friend, her biggest fan and supporter, and always, always take out the trash, and if you want brownie points, offer to do the dishes.

Being loved by Blake isn’t something you can describe. You just feel it settle into your bones, taking shelter in your heart. She leaves an imprint on your life. She makes you want to be a better person.

I shall freckle." "That doesn't bother me," he said with a shrug. "It bothers me!" "Don't worry. They'll be on your own face, so you won't have to see them." Ellie gaped at him, astounded by his illogic.

Claire hasn't told me why she behaved as such, although I have a good idea.' 'I suspect you do,' Ellie said quietly. 'Thank you for not embarrassing her before Charles.' 'She didn't need her heart broken twice.

This smorgasbord of eyes brings with it a dizzying medley of visual Umwelten. Animals might see crisp detail at a distance, or nothing more than blurry blotches of light and shade. They might see perfectly well in what we’d call darkness, or go instantly blind in what we’d call brightness. They might see in what we’d deem slow motion or time-lapse. They might see in two directions at once, or in every direction at once. Their vision might get more or less sensitive over the span of a single day. Their Umwelt might change as they get older. Jakob’s colleague Nate Morehouse has shown that jumping spiders are born with their lifetime’s supply of light-detecting cells, which get bigger and more sensitive with age. “Things would get brighter and brighter,” Morehouse tells me. For a jumping spider, getting older “is like watching the sun rising.

The laws of nature are sublime, but there is a moral sublimity before which the highest intelligences must kneel and adore. The laws by which the winds blow, and the tides of the ocean, like a vast clepsydra, measure, with inimitable exactness, the hours of ever-flowing time; the laws by which the planets roll, and the sun vivifies and paints; the laws which preside over the subtle combinations of chemistry, and the amazing velocities of electricity; the laws of germination and production in the vegetable and animal worlds, — all these, radiant with eternal beauty as they are, and exalted above all the objects of sense, still wane and pale before the Moral Glories that apparel the universe in their celestial light. The heart can put on charms which no beauty of known things, nor imagination of the unknown, can aspire to emulate. Virtue shines in native colors, purer and brighter than pearl, or diamond, or prism, can reflect. Arabian gardens in their bloom can exhale no such sweetness as charity diffuses. Beneficence is godlike, and he who does most good to his fellow-man is the Master of Masters, and has learned the Art of Arts. Enrich and embellish the universe as you will, it is only a fit temple for the heart that loves truth with a supreme love. Inanimate vastness excites wonder; knowledge kindles admiration, but love enraptures the soul. Scientific truth is marvellous, but moral truth is divine; and whoever breathes its air and walks by its light, has found the lost paradise. For him, a new heaven and a new earth have already been created. His home is the sanctuary of God, the Holy of Holies.

I believe I told you I am utterly serious. I never lie." "Now that is a clanker if ever I heard one." she retorted. "Well, then, I never lie about anything important." Her hands found their way to her hips and she let out a loud, "Harumph.

You chide yourself for walking too far ahead, for regressing into 80s song lyrics territory so soon. But then he says, "The supermassive black hole at the center of the milky way recently sparked 75 times brighter over the course of a 2 hour period, and twice as bright as it's ever been in the 20 years astronomers have been monitoring it." By now you're used to him talking Science, but you're not sure where he's going with this. "One theory," he continues "is that the event was caused by a star about 15 times bigger than the sun getting close to the edge of the black hole disturbing some gasses, heating things up, increasing the infrared radiation from the edge. But get this, we observed that star getting close to the black hole about a year before we observed the affects on the black hole." "That just shows how vast the universe is, how enormous the distance," you say. "Exactly! Distances, plural. The distance between the star and the edge of the black hole, and the distance between the black hole and Earth. So, I say all of this to say that sometimes wheels are set in motion long before the spark is manifest. Is that the same thing as fate? I don't know but...I do know that rare brilliant events take time.

A foreboding grew on me; I sensed that if I did not reply, some tragedy would occur. At last I began weakly, “Anarchy …” “That is not governance, but the lack of it. I taught you that it precedes all governance. Now list the seven sorts.” “Attachment to the person of the monarch. Attachment to a bloodline or other sequence of succession. Attachment to the royal state. Attachment to a code legitimizing the governing state. Attachment to the law only. Attachment to a greater or lesser board of electors, as framers of the law. Attachment to an abstraction conceived as including the body of electors, other bodies giving rise to them, and numerous other elements, largely ideal.” “Tolerable. Of these, which is the earliest form, and which the highest?” “The development is in the order given, Master,” I said. “But I do not recall that you ever asked before which was highest.” Master Malrubius leaned forward, his eyes burning brighter than the coals of the fire. “Which is highest, Severian?

Somebody up there is deuced mad at me," she yelled, "and I want to know why!" The heavens opened in earnest and within seconds she was soaked to the skin. "Remind me never to question Your purposes again," she muttered ungraciously, not sounding particularly like the God-fearing young lady her father had raised her to be. "Clearly You don't like to be second-guessed." Lightning streaked through the sky, followed by a booming clap of thunder. "Damn!" she grunted, her bonnet sagged against her eyes, blocking her vision. She yanked it off, looked at the sky, and yelled, "I am not amused!" More lightning. "They are all against me," she muttered,"All of them." Her father, Sally Foxglove, Mr. Tibbett, whoever it was who controlled the weather— More thunder.

She dances, She dances around the burning flames with passion, Under the same dull stars, Under the same hell with crimson embers crashing, Under the same silver chains that wires, All her beauty and who she is inside, She's left with the loneliness of human existence, She's left questioning how she's survived, She's left with this awakening of brutal resilience, Her true beauty that she denies, As much she's like to deny it, As much as it continues to shine, That she doesn't even have to admit, Because we all know it's true, Her glory and success, After all she's been through, Her triumph and madness, AND YET, SHE STANDS. Broken legs- but she's still standing, Still dancing in this void, You must wonder how she's still dancing, You must wonder how she's not destroyed, She doesn't even begin to drown within the flames, But little do you realize, Within these chains, She weeps and she cries, But she still goes on, And just you thought you could stop her? You thought you'd be the one? Well, let me tell you, because you thought wrong. Nothing will ever silence her, Because I KNOW, I know that she is admiringly strong, Her undeniable beauty, The triumph of her song, She's shining bright like a ruby, Reflecting in the golden sand, She's shining brighter like no other, She's far more than human or man, AND YET, SHE STANDS. She continues to dance with free-spirit, Even though she's locked in these chains, Though she never desired to change it, Even throughout the agonizing pain, Throughout all the distress, Anxiety, depression, tears and sorrow, She still dances so beautify in her dress, She looks forward to tomorrow, Not because of a fresh start but a new page, A new day full of opportunities, Despite being trapped in her cage, She still smiles after being beaten so brutally, A smile that could brighten anyone's day, She's so much more than anyone could ask for, She's so much more than I could ever say, She's a girl absolutely everyone should adore, She never gets in the way, Even after her hearts been broken, Even after the way she has been treated, After all these severe emotions, After all all the blood she's bled, AND YET, SHE STANDS. Even if sometimes she wonders why she's still here, She wonders why she's not dead, But there's this one thing that had been here throughout every tear, Throughout the blazing fire leaving her cheeks cherry red, Everyday this thing has given her a place to exist, This thing, person, these people, Like warm sunlight it had so softly kissed, The apples of her cheeks, Even when she's feeling feeble, Always there at her worst and at her best Because of you and all the other people, She has this thing deep inside her chest, That she will cherish forever, Even once you're gone, Because today she smiles like no other, Even when the sun sets at dawn, Because today is the day, She just wants you to remember, In dark and stormy weather, It gets better. And after what she's been through she knows, Throughout the highs and the lows, Because of you and all others, After crossing the seas, She has come to understand, You have formed this key, This key to free her from this land, This endless gorge that swallowed her, Her and other men, She had never knew, nor had she planned, That because of you, She's free. AND YET, THIS VERY DAY, SHE DANCES. EVEN IN THE RAIN.

How much anger is too much? Certainly not the anger that, for many of us, is a remembering of a self we learned to hide and quiet. It is willful and disobedient. It is survival, liberation, creativity, urgency, and vibrancy. It is a statement of need. An insistence of acknowledgment. Anger is a boundary. Anger is boundless. An opportunity for contemplation and self-awareness. It is commitment. Empathy. Self-love. Social responsibility. If it is poison, it is also the antidote. The anger we have as women is an act of radical imagination. Angry women burn brighter than the sun.

There is a difference between this world and the world of Faery, but it is not immediately perceptible. Everything that is here is there, but the things that are there are better than those that are here. All things that are bright are there brighter. There is more gold in the sun and more silver in the moon of that land. There is more scent in the flowers, more savour in the fruit. There is more comeliness in the men and more tenderness in the women. Everything in Faery is better by this one wonderful degree, and it is by this betterness you will know that you are there if you should ever happen to get there.

Everything, it seemed-the city, the sky-was brighter and more vivid than before. So modern, compared with the time capsule downstairs. As he left the hotel, Henry looked west to where the sun was setting, burnt sienna flooding the horizon. It reminded him that time was short, but the beautiful endings could still be found at the end of cold, dreary days.

Anyone with an adequate education will easily acknowledge that in the mythology of the Eddas itself the essential element does not correspond to the pathos of the emerging and unleashing of elementary forces and of the struggle against them...the essential, in the tradition in question, is to be found in what are ultimately ‘Olympian’ meanings. These are implied, for instance, by the idea of Miðgarðr, which reflects the general idea of a supreme centre and fundamental order of the world, and which, in a way, may be considered the metaphysical basis of the idea of empire; by the symbolism of Valhalla as a mountain whose frozen and bright peak shines of an eternal light beyond all clouds; and, connected to this, the motif of the so called Light of the North in its many variants. In relation to this, I should recall the symbolism of the golden realm of Glaðsheimr, ‘brighter than the sun’...and the image of the celestial place of Gimlé, ‘more magnificent than any other and brighter than the sun,’ which ‘will endure even when the heavens and the earth pass away.’ In this and many other motifs...a trained eye is bound to detect a testimony to a higher dimension in ancient Nordic mythology...According to Völuspá and Gylfaginning, after Ragnarök a ‘new sun’ and ‘new race’ will arise, the ‘divine heroes’... will return to Iðavöllr and find gold, which symbolises the primordial tradition of luminous Asgard and the original state.

The atomic scientists had become important people. That was their first discovery when they returned from their laboratories to the world at large. “Before the war we were supposed to be completely ignorant of the world and inexperienced in its ways. But now we are regarded as the ultimate authorities on all possible subjects, from nylon stockings to the best for of international organisation.

If one child has more ability than another, then it’s only right the brighter one gets the opportunities. The responsibilities too. I accept that. But what I won’t accept is that Rick can’t have a decent life. I refuse to accept this world has become so cruel. Rick wasn’t lifted, but he can still go far, do very well.’ ‘I wish him the very best. All I’m saying is that there are all kinds of ways to lead a successful life.

And on the moon there is surely water...And up there, if water exists, and air, then so does life. A life perhaps different from ours. Perhaps that water has the flavor of (let us say) glycyrrhizin, or cardamon, or even of pepper. If there are infinite worlds, this proves the infinite ingenuity of the Engineer of our Universe, but then there is no limit to this Poet. He can have created inhabited worlds everywhere, but inhabited by ever-different creatures. Perhaps the inhabitants of the sun are sunnier, brighter, and more illuminated than are the inhabitants of the earth, who are heavy with matter, and the inhabitants of the moon lie somewhere in between. On the sun live beings who are all Form, or all Act, if you prefer, while on the earth beings are made of mere Potentials that evolve, and on the moon they are in medio fluctuantes, lunatics, so to speak...

Heisenberg repeated his story about the German bomb program to anyone who would listen for the rest of his life. Goudsmit, who had access to the Farm Hall reports and had seen the pathetic remnants of the Nazi nuclear program firsthand, knew Heisenberg’s story was a fabrication. But, with the existence of the Farm Hall transcripts itself classified, Goudsmit could state only that Heisenberg was lying, without explaining how he knew. The first popular account of the Manhattan Project, Brighter Than a Thousand Suns, written by the Swiss journalist Robert Jungk in 1958, repeated Heisenberg’s story almost verbatim. So did The Virus House, the first book dedicated solely to the history of the German bomb program, which relied heavily on interviews from Heisenberg and his fellow former Farm Hall detainees. (The author, David Irving, was later revealed to be a Holocaust denier.)

According to a classic experiment by Wolfgang Kohler, you can take two gray pieces of paper-one dark, one bright-and teach the chickens to expect food on the brighter of the two. If you then remove the darker piece and replace it by one brighter than the other one, the deluded creatures will look for their dinner, not on the identical gray paper where they have always found it, but on the paper where they would expect it in terms of relationships-that is, on the brighter of the two. Their little brains are attuned to gradients rather than to individual stimuli. Things could not go well with them if nature had willed it otherwise. For would a memory of the exact stimulus have helped them to recognize the identical paper? Hardly ever! A cloud passing over the sun would change its brightness, and so might even a tilt of the head, or an approach from a different angle. If what we call "identity" were not anchored in a constant relationship with environment, it would be lost in the chaos of swirling impressions that never repeat themselves.

PART TWO Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive, and will come forth later, in uglier ways. —SIGMUND FREUD CHAPTER ONE Alicia Berenson’s Diary JULY 16 I never thought I’d be longing for rain. We’re into our fourth week of the heat wave, and it feels like an endurance test. Each day seems hotter than the last. It doesn’t feel like England. More like a foreign country—Greece or somewhere. I’m writing this on Hampstead Heath. The whole park is strewn with red-faced, semi-naked bodies, like a beach or a battlefield, on blankets or benches or spread out on the grass. I’m sitting under a tree, in the shade. It’s six o’clock, and it has started to cool down. The sun is low and red in a golden sky—the park looks different in this light—darker shadows, brighter colors. The grass looks like it’s on fire, flickering flames under my feet. I took off my shoes on my way here and walked barefoot. It reminded me of when I was little and I’d play outside. It reminded me of another summer, hot like this one—the summer Mum died—playing outside with Paul, cycling on our bikes through golden fields dotted with wild daisies, exploring abandoned houses and haunted orchards. In my memory that summer lasts forever. I remember Mum and those colorful tops she’d wear, with the yellow stringy straps, so flimsy and delicate—just like her. She was so thin, like a little bird. She would put on the radio and pick me up and dance me around to pop songs on the radio. I remember how she smelled of shampoo and cigarettes and Nivea hand cream, always with an undertone of vodka. How old was she then?

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 knight stood on the mountaintop breathing deeply, and an overwhelming sense of well-being swept through him. He grew dizzy from the enchantment of seeing, hearing, and feeling the universe all around him. Before, fear of the unknown had dulled his senses, but now he was able to experience everything with breathtaking clarity. The warmth of the afternoon sun, the melody of the gentle mountain breeze, and the beauty of nature's shapes and colors that painted the landscape as far as his eyes could see filled the knight with indescribable pleasure. His heart brimmed with love—for himself, for [his friends], for life, and for the entire wondrous world. (...) The knight cried out with joy. No more would he don his armor and ride off in all directions. No more would people see the shining reflection of steel and think that the sun was rising in the north or setting in the east. He smiled through his tears, unaware that a radiant, new light now shone from him—a light far brighter and more beautiful than his armor at its polished best—sparkling like a brook, shining like the moon, dazzling like the sun. For, indeed, the knight was the brook. He was the moon. He was the sun. He could be all these things at once now, and more, because he was one with the universe. He was love.

Darkness Always Ends No matter how your day goes, the sun always rises the next day. You get a fresh start. Likewise, I’ve learned every dark season in life comes to an end. If you hang in there long enough, you’ll reach the dawn. I believe God created that sunrise-sunset pattern as a reminder for us when life gets difficult. For official records, we measure time by the midnight hour. Our calendar days go from midnight to midnight. We begin and end our days in darkness. And when we consider our days, we split them into two parts: daytime first, followed by nighttime. Light first, then the darkness. But not everyone views the cycle that way. The biblical account of creation reverses our cycle: “And there was evening and there was morning, one day” (Genesis 1:5). The Jewish calendar follows suit with that original creation account. That calendar runs from sunset to sunset. The full hours of darkness come first, followed by the full hours of light. In other words, from God’s perspective, each day ends with light. Year after year, I’ve derived such encouragement from that picture. I believe this is why the psalmist David wrote, “Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). You have every reason to believe for a miracle. You have every reason to believe God won’t abandon you. Nothing in this life lasts forever. Your dark season will come to an end. And chances are, it won’t take until your dying day. It won’t kill you. Things might look bleak at first, but they can improve. With night and day, God has given us a picture of hope. The sun always rises. Things will always get brighter. “The end of a matter is better than its beginning” (Ecclesiastes 7:8). Whether it’s a day or a season in your life, it doesn’t matter how things look in the midst of it. What matters is how it ends. Oftentimes, for the circumstances to improve, we must take particular steps along the way. A bright outcome might depend, in part, on how we choose to respond to what has occurred. Or preemptive steps might put us at an advantage down the road. God give us a role to perform. But the breakthrough is available.

She dances, She dances around the burning flames with passion, Under the same dull stars, Under the same hell with crimson embers crashing, Under the same silver chains that wires, All her beauty and who she is inside, She's left with the loneliness of human existence, She's left questioning how she's survived, She's left with this awakening of brutal resilience, Her true beauty that she denies, As much she's like to deny it, As much as it continues to shine, That she doesn't even have to admit, Because we all know it's true, Her glory and success, After all she's been through, Her triumph and madness, AND YET, SHE STANDS. Broken legs- but she's still standing, Still dancing in this void, You must wonder how she's still dancing, You must wonder how she's not destroyed, She doesn't even begin to drown within the flames, But little do you realize, Within these chains, She weeps and she cries, But she still goes on, And just you thought you could stop her? You thought you'd be the one? Well, let me tell you, because you thought wrong. Nothing will ever silence her, Because I KNOW, I know that she is admiringly strong, Her undeniable beauty, The triumph of her song, She's shining bright like a ruby, Reflecting in the golden sand, She's shining brighter like no other, She's far more than human or man, AND YET, SHE STANDS. She continues to dance with free-spirit, Even though she's locked in these chains, Though she never desired to change it, Even throughout the agonizing pain, Throughout all the distress, Anxiety, depression, tears and sorrow, She still dances so beautify in her dress, She looks forward to tomorrow, Not because of a fresh start but a new page, A new day full of opportunities, Despite being trapped in her cage, She still smiles after being beaten so brutally, A smile that could brighten anyone's day, She's so much more than anyone could ask for, She's so much more than I could ever say, She's a girl absolutely everyone should adore, She never gets in the way, Even after her hearts been broken, Even after the way she has been treated, After all these severe emotions, After all all the blood she's bled, AND YET, SHE STANDS. Even if sometimes she wonders why she's still here, She wonders why she's not dead, But there's this one thing that had been here throughout every tear, Throughout the blazing fire leaving her cheeks cherry red, Everyday this thing has given her a place to exist, This thing, person, these people, Like warm sunlight it had so softly kissed, The apples of her cheeks, Even when she's feeling feeble, Always there at her worst and at her best Because of you and all the other people, She has this thing deep inside her chest, That she will cherish forever, Even once you're gone, Because today she smiles like no other, Even when the sun sets at dawn, Because today is the day, She just wants you to remember, In dark and stormy weather, It gets better. And after what she's been through she knows, Throughout the highs and the lows, Because of you and all others, After crossing the seas, She has come to understand, You have formed this key, This key to free her from this land, This endless gorge that swallowed her, Her and other men, She had never knew, nor had she planned, That because of you, She's free. AND YET, THIS VERY DAY, SHE STILL DANCES, EVEN IN THE RAIN.

I’m not hard to figure out, Zoe,” he murmured. “No games. I’m not the flirting type. If I don’t mean it, I don’t say it. And I never feel obligated to say shit I don’t really mean just to make someone else feel better. I think it’s best if we get that out of the way right now. You with me?” She swallowed, her throat working up and down as she slowly nodded. Her gaze was full of wonder as she continued to stare back up at him, as if processing his solemn statement and measuring its sincerity. “Yeah,” she finally whispered. “I think so.” “Then you might want to catch that fish that’s messing with your line,” he said in amusement. She whirled around just in time to see her bobber plunge under for the fourth time, and she hauled upward on the pole with both hands, letting out a peal of infectious laughter. “I’m so fucked,” Joe whispered to himself. “And the hell of it is, I’m loving every fucking minute of it.

Somewhere Across the Universe, This Intergalactic Fairytale Is Being Told In the far corner of the Virgo supercluster, a small galaxy called the Milky Way exists, and in one of the further spirals of that galaxy there is said to be a tiny planet called Earth. At a cursory glance, there is nothing seemingly unique about this planet, even though it is simply beautiful, cloaked in calypso blue with an oscillating belt of green. It is, in fact, one of millions like it that live in just this universe.   The extraordinary thing about this planet though, are the beings that exist on it. They have been through war after war. Empires that promised to burn brighter than their resident star, the sun, and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Savage rulers, dictators have destroyed entire portions of it, and yet … they simply refuse to stop existing, it is like they have this treasured thing within them to keep them surviving, and to keep knowing.   Look closer now, oh passer-by, look closer at these beings. They are survivors with a sense of awe and curiosity at everything around them. Sometimes they have lost their way, but this is a thing they never seem to lose, because they are so full of potential.   Promise. This planet may be called Earth, but it should have been called Promise.   If you do not believe this little story, and dismiss it as a silly old wives’ tale, a thing which cannot possibly exist, then I hope you come upon their legendary message. You see, 40 years ago, these beings sent out a message on a space probe that has travelled 20.5 billion kilometres, hoping to meet one of us in space. In it lies a message, the definition of this entire species, and it reads simply:   ‘This is a present from a small distant world, a token of our sounds, our science, our images, our music, our thoughts, and our feelings. We are attempting to survive our time so we may live into yours.’   The Voyager is still out there, waiting for someone to come upon it. Maybe that someone is you. Maybe you will remind that species of the greatness that lies in their potential, their promise. Maybe you will be the being that turns that fairytale planet of promise into an intergalactic legend of green and blue.

DEAR CHILD Please to fancy, if you can, that you are reading a real letter, from a real friend whom you have seen, and whose voice you can seem to yourself to hear wishing you, as I do now with all my heart, a happy Easter. Do you know that delicious dreamy feeling when one first wakes on a summer morning, with the twitter of birds in the air, and the fresh breeze coming in at the open window – when, lying lazily with eyes half-shut, one sees as in a dream green boughs waving, or water rippling in a golden light? It is a pleasure very near to sadness, bringing tears to one’s eyes like a beautiful picture or poem. And is not that a Mother’s gentle hand that undraws your curtains, and a Mother’s sweet voice that summons you to rise? To rise and forget, in the bright sunlight, the ugly dreams that frightened you so when all was dark – to rise and enjoy another happy day, first kneeling to thank that unseen Friend, who sends you the beautiful sun? Are these strange words from a writer of such tales as ‘Alice’? And is this a strange letter to find in a book of nonsense? It may be so. Some perhaps may blame me for thus mixing together things grave and gay; others may smile and think it odd that any one should speak of solemn things at all, except in church and on Sunday: but I think – nay, I am sure – that some children will read this gently and lovingly, and in the spirit of which I have written it. For I do not believe God means us thus to divide life into two halves – to wear a grave face on Sunday, and to think it out-of-place to even so much as mention Him on a week-day. Do you think He cares to see only kneeling figures, and to hear only tones of prayer – and that He does not also love to see the lambs leaping in the sunlight, and to hear the merry voices of the children, as they roll among the hay? Surely their innocent laughter is as sweet in His ears as the grandest anthem that ever rolled up from the ‘dim religious light’ of some solemn cathedral? And if I have written anything to add to those stories of innocent and healthy amusement that are laid up in books for the children I love so well, it is surely something I may hope to look back upon without shame and sorrow (as how much of life must then be recalled!) when my turn comes to walk through the valley of shadows. This Easter sun will rise on you, dear child, feeling your ‘life in every limb’, and eager to rush out into the fresh morning air – and many an Easter-day will come and go, before it finds you feeble and gray-headed, creeping wearily out to bask once more in the sunlight – but it is good, even now, to think sometimes of that great morning when the ‘Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing in his wings’. Surely your gladness need not be less for the thought that you will one day see a brighter dawn than this – when lovelier sights will meet your eyes than any waving trees or rippling waters – when angel-hands shall undraw your curtains, and sweeter tones than ever loving Mother breathed shall wake you to a new and glorious day – and when all the sadness, and the sin, that darkened life on this little earth, shall be forgotten like the dreams of a night that is past! Your affectionate friend, LEWIS CARROLL Easter, 1876

You have almost made it through the day, but you gotta run more. Life is all about fulfilling the undertakings assigned. Have fun and enjoy your existence but forget not the role you are playing in this stage. Since the day is over and night has come. What's done is done! The new tomorrow shall come with light and vibrance, don't forget to illuminate your soul and charge up your spirits. everything will get better and sun will shine brighter than ever.

Wars of conquest, capital punishment, violent retribution, the institution of slavery, and women held as property are all “biblical,” but when seen in the light brighter than the sun shining from the face of Christ, everything must be re-evaluated because Jesus is what God has to say!

In every way, we inhabit the Noosphere, the domain of nous, of mind. This cosmic Noosphere is evolving. Powerful minds are shaping it, making it perfect. One day, it will be transformed into Golgonooza, Blake’s wondrous City of the Imagination. Once enough people are illuminated, its light will shine brighter than all the suns put together. It will illuminate the whole universe. It will be inhabited by glittering Gods, and they shall call it heaven.

I’m trusting you with my future, Rusty,” he said quietly. “She’s everything to me. You understand that?” Her smile was oddly sad. “I understand all too well what happens when a Kelly man decides a woman is his. It’s too bad the rest of the male population can’t take their cues from you.

Don’t tell me you’ve never had sweet tea. My heart can only take so many shocks in one day.” She burst into laughter and he stared shamelessly at the sparkle in her eyes and the enticing shape of her mouth as it broadened into a huge smile. “Does instant tea count?” He arched an eyebrow. “Instant?” She laughed and held up one hand. “Don’t tell me. I already know the answer to this one. Instant tea is a sin. Am I right?” “Got it in one,

Let Me Irma! Like the sun beams dancing over summer flowers, Let me wake up in your mind at all hours, Like a thought that never subsides, But as an adorable feeling it within you always resides, Let me flash as a feeling of joy over your senses, My darling Irma, I want to take my chances, For who knows what might happen tomorrow, So I wish to live every moment of joy before I experience a moment of sorrow, Let me embrace you like the daylight, Which is around you always, though you do not feel its grasp tight, Like this let me hold you forever and everywhere, To be seemingly nowhere yet always there, forever there, Like the daylight draping you in its brightness, And when I see you clad in this dress of daylight, ah my fondness, For you, your smile, your deep eyes draws me unto you, Then neither the daylight, nor the day exist, it is just you and only you, And as I climb the heights of passions and desires, Let me rest within you like those solemn prayers, That arise from the heart and dwell forever in the firmament of love, Then let me believe nothing exists below and nothing exists up above, It is just the daylight and you, Where you wear my passions all around you, And I forever love you, And I once again believe you were made for me and I was made for you, Then when the night approaches, Let me disregard all astral reproaches, And lie with you Irma under the starry night, And bask in your love light, that shines brighter than the daylight.

She knows and trusts that if her sight grows dark, I’ll light her fucking soul on fire. The flame will grow so wide, so bright, everything inside her will burn brighter than the sun could ever glow, then the stars could ever guide. I will be her light. And she will be my everything.

The light of the Soul is far brighter than the light of the Sun.

The love and grace that Christ has manifested does as much exceed all that which is in this world as the sun is brighter than a candle.

Her face seemed bigger and brighter than usual, like she had swallowed a bit of the sun, and she was smiling such a big smile it looked like her mouth was going to break.

Eyes of the Cat I wrote this little story for the schoolgirl who said my stories weren’t scary enough. Her comment was ‘Not bad’, and she gave me seven out of ten. Her eyes seemed flecked with gold when the sun was on them. And as the sun set over the mountains, drawing a deep red wound across the sky, there was more than gold in Kiran’s eyes. There was anger; for she had been cut to the quick by some remarks her teacher had made—the culmination of weeks of insults and taunts. Kiran was poorer than most of the girls in her class and could not afford the tuitions that had become almost obligatory if one was to pass and be promoted. ‘You’ll have to spend another year in the ninth,’ said Madam. ‘And if you don’t like that, you can find another school—a school where it won’t matter if your blouse is torn and your tunic is old and your shoes are falling apart.’ Madam had shown her large teeth in what was supposed to be a good-natured smile, and all the girls had tittered dutifully. Sycophancy had become part of the curriculum in Madam’s private academy for girls. On the way home in the gathering gloom, Kiran’s two companions commiserated with her. ‘She’s a mean old thing,’ said Aarti. ‘She doesn’t care for anyone but herself.’ ‘Her laugh reminds me of a donkey braying,’ said Sunita, who was more forthright. But Kiran wasn’t really listening. Her eyes were fixed on some point in the far distance, where the pines stood in silhouette against a night sky that was growing brighter every moment. The moon was rising, a full moon, a moon that meant something very special to Kiran, that made her blood tingle and her skin prickle and her hair glow and send out sparks. Her steps seemed to grow lighter, her limbs more sinewy as she moved gracefully, softly over the mountain path. Abruptly she left her companions at a fork in the road. ‘I’m taking the short cut through the forest,’ she said. Her friends were used to her sudden whims.

On February 15, 2013, a huge meteor streaked across the sky over Chelyabinsk, Russia. For a brief moment it shone brighter than the Sun and cast stark shadows. At first it did not make a sound, but about two minutes later a sonic boom shattered windows and even knocked people over.

I take it the good crowd this morning is thanks to you?” Light words—perhaps an attempt at normalcy, considering what had happened in the library. The old woman smiled—such warmth. She was brighter than the sun peeking above the compound walls. “The girls heard a rumor of a handsome lord coming to teach. I was practically trampled in the stampede down the stairs.

Her smile was brighter than the setting sun on the river. He laughed, but she added, “You’re my friend. Who watches trashy TV with me and puts up with my shit. You’re the person I don’t need to explain myself to—not when it matters. You see everything I am, and you don’t run away from it.

If you want to know what it's like to survive hell and still come out shining brighter than the sun, just look into the eyes of a woman who has survived intense damage and refused to allow it to destroy her softness.

No issue with the Umbra Mortis being your emotional twin?' But her face grew serious again. 'That's what they call you, but that's not who you are.' 'And who am I?' 'A pain in my ass.' Her smile was brighter than the setting sun on the river. He laughed, but she added. 'You're my friend. Who watches trashy TV with me and puts up with my shit. You're the person I don't need to explain myself to- not when it matters. You see everything I am, and you don't run away from it.

...for the maids and women of the Gondothlim were as fair as the sun and as lovely as the moon and brighter than the stars. Glory dwelt in that city of Gondolin of the Seven Names, and its ruin was the most dread of all the sacks of cities upon the face of Earth.

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.

This moment will pass,” Magnar murmured into my hair, his fingers tracing back and forth across my thigh in a soothing motion. “Every moment does. And when pain strikes its deepest, each second which slips by beyond it will lessen that ache. The world will keep turning and the sun will shine brighter, some days more than others. You will be ready to bask in it when it does.

You never "get over" the loss of a parent. It stays with you all day, every day, like a persistent shadow. But some days, you get lucky. The shadow kind of goes away for a little while. The sun shines brighter than usual, and all you feel is its warm glow around you.

You’re a star, the brightest one I’ve ever, ever seen. Brighter than the sun and all the other stars combined,” I said. “And I wanna worship you every day and every night and have my fate ruled by you. I want my horoscope defined by you, I want every prediction in my life to be your choice, to rest in your hands.

In the 140 years since Edison's invention, electric lighting has spread far and wide, transforming the way we live our lives. And it continues to grow every brighter: a recent study of satellite images revealed that the earth's artificially lit outdoor area is currently increasing by more than 2 percent a year.

my eyes, which look brighter than they ever have—and my blonde hair cascades down my back in loose waves.

Someone's Double Shot of Whiskey [Verse] When the sun sets low on a Tennessee sky, And the world feels heavy, makes you wanna cry, You walk down that dirt road, kicking up dust, Thinking 'bout the past and who to trust. [Verse 2] The porch light's flickering, but no one's home, You're feeling like a stray dog, lost and alone, Nothing but the whispers of the evening breeze, And the sound of your boots on the fallen leaves. [Chorus] You may not be everyone's cup of tea, But believe me, honey, you're a sight to see. To someone out there, you're more than a dream, You're their double shot of whiskey, straight from the stream. [Verse 3] The radio plays those old-time songs, Reminding you of how far you've come along, Life ain't always bright, but it's not so bad, When you remember the good times you once had. [Verse 4] Folks might not understand your country ways, But there's someone out there prayin' for brighter days, For every broken heart and tear you cry, There's a love out there that won't pass you by. [Chorus] You may not be everyone's cup of tea, But believe me, honey, you're a sight to see. To someone out there, you're more than a dream, You're their double shot of whiskey, straight from the stream.

Josh was present and clear. Of course he felt more distracting to me. Right? Tyler was a season I hadn’t seen in eight months, and Josh was brighter than the sun at the moment. That’s all it was. It wasn’t that Josh was anything special. How could he be?

One day the sun will shine brighter than ever, and the stars will twinkle and shine more than ever, One day the pain will feel like it was there never, That’s when I will sing again, even if just in the shower, but louder and happier than ever.

Montreal November 1704 Temperature 34 degrees “Girl! English, eh? What is your name? Indians stole you, eh? I’ll send news to your people.” His excellent speech meant that he did a lot of trading with the English. It meant, Mercy prayed, that he liked the English. She found her tongue. “Will you take me to France, sir? Or anywhere at all? Wherever you are going--I can pay.” He raised his eyebrows. “You do not belong to an Indian?” She flushed and knew her red cheeks gave their own answer, but rather than speaking, she held out the cross. The sun was bright and the gemstones even brighter. The man sucked in his breath. He leaned very close to her to examine the cross. “Yes,” he said. “It is worth much.” He straightened up slowly, his eyes traveling from her waist to her breast to her throat to her hair. The other sailors also straightened, and they too left their work, drawn by the glittering cross. “So you want to sail with me, girl?” He stroked her cheek. His nails were yellow and thick like shingles, and filthy underneath. He twined her hair into a hank, circling it tighter and tighter, as if to scalp. “You are the jewel,” he said. “Come. I get a comb and fix this hair.” The other sailors slouched over. They pressed against her and she could not retreat. He continued to hold her by the hair, as if she were a rabbit to be skinned. She could see neither river nor sky, only the fierce grins of sailors leaning down. “Eh bien,” said the Frenchman, returning to his own tongue. “This little girl begs to sail with us,” he told his men. “What do you say, boys?” He began laughing. “Where should she sleep? What am I bid?” She did not have enough French to get every word, but it was the same in any language. The sailors laughed raucously. Indians had strong taboos about women. Men would not be with their women if they were going hunting or having important meetings, and certainly not when going off to war. She had never heard of an Indian man forcing himself on a woman. But these were not Indians. She let the cross fall on its chain and pushed the Frenchman away, but he caught both her wrists easily in his free hand and stretched her out by the wrists as well as by the hair. Tannhahorens pricked the white man’s hand with the tip of his scalping knife. White men loading barrels stood still. White sailors on deck ceased to move. White passersby froze where they walked. The bearded Frenchman drew back, holding his hands up in surrender. A little blood ran down his arm. “Of course,” he said, nodding. “She’s yours. I see.” The sailors edged away. Behind them now, Mercy could see two pirogues of Indians drifting by the floating dock. They looked like Sauk from the west. They were standing up in the deep wells of their sturdy boats, shifting their weapons to catch the sun. Tannhahorens did not look at Mercy. The tip of his knife advanced and the Frenchman backed away from it. He was a very strong man, possibly stronger than Tannhahorens. But behind Tannhahorens were twenty heavily armed braves. The Frenchman kept backing and Tannhahorens kept pressing. No sailor dared move a muscle, not outnumbered as they were. The Sauk let out a hideous wailing war cry. Mercy shuddered with the memory of other war cries. Even more terrified, all the French took another step back--and three of them fell into the St. Lawrence River. The Sauk burst into wild laughter. The voyageurs hooted and booed. The sailors threw ropes to their floundering comrades, because only Indians knew how to swim.

Human ia such that everyone leaves you to your fate during your darkest moments even those you could trust with your life. But in as much as you love and care for them you need to start cutting off all strings that tie you to them and groom those few that firmly stand by you through these times. And surely just as the sun set for the moon to rise, that same sun will rise once again and shine brighter than it used to be.

Scratch that, Rosie is the star. A fucking constellation. She is shining brighter than the sun. She

Being with you is like watching the sun rise and set each day. It’s so calm and beautiful. You leave your mark for everyone to witness your beauty.

[...] every decent man confronted by a totalitarian regime ought to have the pluck to commit high treason.

Although the sun is brighter than the moon, it robs you of the experience of seeing the stars.

Can I keep you, Avery Connor? Will you be mine?” “Please.” His smile was brighter than the sun in mid-July. “Good answer.

Ivo Andric, Bosnian chronicle (Quote about nostalgia, free translation from Bosnian lenguage) More than three hundred years ago, brought us from our homeland, a unique Andalusia, a terrible, foolish, fratricidal whirlwind, which we can not understand even today, and who has not understood it to this day, scattered us all over the world and made us beggars to which gold does not help. Now, threw us on the East, and life on the East is not easy for us or blessed, and the as much man goes further and gets closer to the sun's birth, it is worse, because the land is younger and more raw and people are from the land. And our trouble is that we could not fully love this country, to which we owe becouse it has received us, accept us and provided us with shelter, nor could we hate the one who has unjustly took us away and expelled us as an unworthly sons. We do not know is it more difficult that we are here or that we are not there. Wherever we were outside of Spain, we would suffer because we would have two homelands, I know, but here life is too much pressed us and humiliated us. I know that we have been changed for a long time,we do not remember anymore how we were, but surely we remember that we were different. We left and road up long time ago and we traveled hard and we unluckily fell down and stopped at this place, and that is why we are no longer even a shadow of what we were. As a powder on a fruit that goes hand-to-hand, from man first fall of what is finest on him. That's why we are like this. But you know us, us and our life, if we can call this life. We live between "occupiers" and commonalty, miserable commonalty and terrible Turkish. Cutted away completely from our loved ones, we are careful to look after and keep everything Spanish, songs and meals and customs, but we feel that everything changes in us, spoils and forgets. We remember the language of our land, the lenguage we did take and carried three centuries ago, the lenguage which even do not speak there anymore, and we ridiculously speak with stumbling the language of the comonalty with which we suffer and the Turkish who rules over us. So it may not be a long day when we will be purely and humanly able to express ourselves only in prayer, and which actually does not need any words. This so lonely and few, we marry between us and see that our blood is paling and fainting. We bend and shred in front of everyone, we mourn, suffer and contrive, as people said: on the ice we make campfire, we work, we gain, we save, not only for ourselves and for our children, but for all those who are stronger and more insolent, impudent than us and strike on our life , on the dignity, and on the wealth. So we preserved the faith for which we had to leave our beautiful country, but lost almost everything else. Luckily, and to our sorrow, we did not lose from our memory reminiscence of our dear country, as it was, before she drive away us like stepmother; just as it will never extinguish in us the desire for a better world, the world of order and humanity in which you goes stright, watches calmly and speaks openly. We can not free ourselves from that feeling, nor feeling that, in addition to everything, we belong to such a world, though, we are expelled and unhappy, otherwise we live. That's what we would like to know there. That our name does not die in that brighter and higher world that is constantly darkening and destroying, iconstantly moves and changes, but never collapses, and always for somebody exists, that that world knows that we are carrying him in our soul, that even here we serve him on our way, and we feel one with him, even though we are forever and hopelessly separated from him.

Evie Maywood, you were larger than life. I couldn't believe I was even in your orbit, never mind on your planet. You were bigger than the sun and brighter than every single star combined.

Things might look bleak at first, but they can improve. With night and day, God has given us a picture of hope. The sun always rises. Things will always get brighter. “The end of a matter is better than its beginning” (Ecclesiastes 7:8).

When you are praying alone, and your spirit is dejected … remember then that God the Trinity looks upon you with eyes brighter than the sun. (St. John of Kronstadt)

The twenties began with a pause. Never had there been such loss, such senseless destruction. It left the world stunned and somber. But as with all great times of darkness, once the veil lifted, the sun shone brighter than before. Nothing makes life sweeter than a reminder of its tenuous nature.

Free Your Mind" Waiting in the hole for rescue Gotta have faith, you'll be near Darkness that has come to test you You know we will succeed if we act as won Riches of the world are for you United with the souls of your daughters and sons Oh, shine brother, shine on Oh, shine brighter than the sun Oh, you're golden, shine one All you gotta do is hold on If your head is heavy just stand up straight In these arms you're always welcome If you are a sinner or you are a saint Shine brighter, shine on Shine brighter than the sun Free your mind Free your mind Free your mind You gotta reach the sky if you want your life to shine You gotta reach the sky if you want your life to shine Free your mind Waiting in the hope of rescue Gotta have faith, you'll be here Darkness that has come to test you You know we will succeed if we act as one Oh, shine brother, shine on Oh, shine brighter than the sun Free your mind Free your mind Free your mind When your heart is cold, who will guide us When your savior comes, and he don't find us When you can't go on and you're feeling loveless Oh baby, just reach out and rise above it You gotta reach the sky if you want your life to shine You gotta reach the sky if you want your life to shine Free your mind

But as with all great times of darkness, once the veil lifted, the sun shone brighter than before. Nothing makes life sweeter than a reminder of its tenuous nature.

I would not ask for more than endless flight Upon the wind and clinging to my song To be alive and well adhered to sleep Upon the clouds with their most careful bounce To see myself about and thru the night To rise up here at dawn to see the sun With all it's radiance and might to seek A brighter day if it were all so true That there exist such places left in time For me to find in my indulgent quests Where I am weightless and quite prone to flight For this is no more than a simple task. 1 am a bird to sing in skies of blue; I am an eagle strong and free to *vise. Forever in the hands of mystery I seek to find this just and brighter day.

Elegy" Wind buffs the waterstained stone cupids and shakes Old rain from the pines’ low branches, small change Spilling over the graves the years have smashed With a hammer— forget this, forget that, leave no Stone unturned. The grass grows high, sweet-smelling, Many-footed, ever-running. No one tends it. No One comes....And where am I now?.... Is this a beginning, A middle, or an end?.... Before I knew you I stood middle, or an end?.... Before I knew you I stood In this place. Now I forsake the past as I knew it To feed you into it. But that is not right. You step Into it. I find you here, in the shifting grass, In the late light, as if you had always been here. Behind you two torn black cedars flame white Against the darkening fields.... If you turn to me, Quiet man? If you turn? If I speak softly? If I say, Take off, take off your glasses.... Let me see Your sightless eyes?.... I will be beautiful then.... Look, the heart moves as the moths do, scuttering Like a child’s thoughts above this broken stone And that. And I lie down. I lie down in the long grass, Something I am not given to doing, and I feel The weight of your hand on my belly, and the wind Parts the grasses, and the distance spills through— The glassy fields, the black black earth, the pale air Streaming headlong toward the abbey’s far stones And streaming back again.... The drowned scent of lilacs By the abbey, it is a drug. It drives one senseless. It drives one blind. You can cup the enormous lilac cones In your hands— ripened, weightless, and taut— And it is like holding someone’s heart in your hands, Or holding a cloud of moths. I lift them up, my hands. Grave man, bend toward me. Lay your face.... here.... Rest....! took the stalks of the dead wisteria From the glass jar propped against the open grave And put in the shell-shaped yellow wildflowers I picked along the road. I cannot name them. Bread and butter, perhaps. I am not good With names. But nameless you walked toward me And I knew you, a swelling in the heart, A silence in the heart, the wild wind-blown grass Burning— as the sun falls below the earth— Brighter than a bed of lilies struck by snow. — Brigit Pegeen Kelly, The Orchard: Poems (BOA Editions Ltd., 2004)

There is no love so great and so wonderful as that which is in the heart of Christ. He is one that delights in mercy; he is ready to pity those that are in suffering and sorrowful circumstances; one that delights in the happiness of his creatures. The love and grace that Christ has manifested does as much exceed all that which is in this world as the sun is brighter than a candle. Parents are often full of kindness towards their children, but that is no kindness like Jesus Christ’s.

When you are praying alone, and your spirit is dejected, and you are wearied and oppressed by your loneliness, remember then, as always, that God the Trinity looks upon you with eyes brighter than the sun; also all the angels, your own Guardian Angel, and all the Saints of God. Truly they do; for they are all one in God, and where God is, there are they also. Where the sun is, thither also are directed all its rays. Try to understand what this means.

Sometimes it gets really dark. It's hard to see right from wrong and the sun is nowhere to be found, but after a while the sun rises again brighter than before, and the darkness becomes a distant memory. That's why you have to keep going always. Even if you cannot see the light.

she, flame. she was the flame that no one could put out burning brighter than the sun refusing to be taken lightly she was drivien by all the things that caused her pain and what failed to weaken her flames became fel she is you

But that story, when sifted to the bottom, according to the common version of it, will be found to be based on a delusion--a delusion, however, into which so good a man as Milner as allowed himself to fall. Milner's account is as follows:--"Constantine, marching from France into Italy against Maxentius, in an expedition which was likely either to exalt or to ruin him, was oppressed with anxiety. Some god he thought needful to protect him; the God of the Christians he must most inclined to respect, but he wanted some satisfactory proof of His real existence and power, and he neither understood the means of acquiring this, nor could he be content with the atheistic indifference in which so many generals and heroes since his time have acquiesced. He prayed, he implored with such vehemence and importunity, and God left him not unanswered. While he was marching with his forces in the afternoon, the trophy of the cross appeared very luminous in the heavens, brighter than the sun, with this inscription, 'Conquer by this.' He and his soldiers were astonished at the sight; but he continued pondering on the event till night. And Christ appeared to him when asleep with the same sign of the cross, and directed him to make use of the symbol as his military ensign." Such is the statement of Milner.

2 if everything happens that can’t be done (and anything’s righter than books could plan) the stupidest teacher will almost guess (with a run skip around we go yes) there’s nothing as something as one one hasn’t a why or because or although (and buds know better than books don’t grow) one’s anything old being everything new (with a what which around we come who) one’s everyanything so so world is a leaf so tree is a bough (and birds sing sweeter than books tell how) so here is away and so your is a my (with a down up around again fly) forever was never till now now i love you and you love me (and books are shuter than books can be) and deep in the high that does nothing but fall (with a shout each around we go all) there’s somebody calling who’s we we’re anything brighter than even the sun (we’re everything greater than books might mean) we’re everyanything more than believe (with a spin leap alive we’re alive) we’re wonderful one times one

But then a single point of light appeared which burned so much brighter than them that it cast them into the realms of irrelevance, and I saw her soaring across the sky burning hotter than the sun itself. She was so endlessly beautiful, so powerful, so strong. My heart. My love. My queen. And that was the way I wanted to leave this life, because when it came down to it, I knew that she was it for me. The only thing I’d ever truly needed and for the briefest span of time she had belonged to me. And that was enough. There is only her.

She and her kisses It was Saturday afternoon, The Summer Sun shone bright, And there she was as usual basking in the casual moments of the noon, While I stood there looking at her beautiful face in the Summer light, She turned sideways and sometimes I could only see her back, And as her locks of hair descended downwards from her shoulders, I could witness in the daylight the magic of the beautiful black, It was a beautiful sight for all heavenly and earthly beholders, To see her splendor of beauty humble the Summer light, And what made her even more beautiful was her ignorance of this fact, That she was brighter than the summer light and during the night she was the envy of moonlight, And with time she seemed to have a secret pact, For the afternoon sun had now set behind the horizon of dusk, But she and her beauty were still embalmed by a mysterious eternal light, That charged at the keeper of time like the ferocious tusk, And guarded her beauty like the most devout knight, When she finally stood up and left the place, I followed the trail of her scent, her shadows and her feet, And there I saw her enter a grand palace of grace, The residence of beautiful innocence made radiant by acts of kindness that nothing can defeat, Because time and beauty are the gatekeepers of this place, Where she sleeps and renews her youth, her charms and her sensitive acts of tenderness, Then in a moment she vanishes behind the veil of sleep without leaving any trace, On the fleeting moments of time, so nobody knows how she attains this beautiful grace of absolute calmness, Maybe it is her ability to look at men and women differently, For no matter who she comes across she greets them genuinely, And offers them a smile of kindness fondly, And it is these acts, small insignificant acts of kindness that flash on her face so beautifully, That is why I love her, even if it means looking at her from the distance, Because I seek not that smile of kindness that she offers to all, I love to be with her and feel that secret romance, That has enslaved time to her commands and makes her the most beautiful woman of all, Someday when the sun has set and the moonlight is bright, And she travels in her dreams into the kingdom of time and eternity, There I shall be her dream, to be so then every night, And then that is what I shall love to be her and my eternity, Where she kisses me, And we lie cocooned in the shell of love, With time winding its silk strings around me, As she kisses me like the rain drops of love, Then as the silk cocoon of time preserves us both, I shall confess to her, under the afternoon Sun, That for her I was the moth, That died a billion times just to let her face, be the beauty’s eternal Sun, So she owes me a moment of love, with a billion kisses, And as she agrees we both shall sleep in the cocoon of time together, Nothing to separate us, not even light, we shall then grow as a grand feeling of love thriving on kisses, And grow in the cocoon of eternal time where love and kisses shall be the only weather.

And I knew you, a swelling in the heart, A silence in the heart, the wild wind-blown grass Burning–as the sun falls below the earth– Brighter than a bed of lilies struck by snow. — Brigit Pegeen Kelly, from “Elegy,” The Orchard: Poems (BOA Editions Ltd., 2004)

How dare you," she breathed. "How dare you." Charles lifted one shoulder in an insolent shrug. "It was either kiss you or kill you. I thought I made the right choice." He strode to the connecting door and put his hand on the knob. "Don't prove me wrong.

He spoke her name, murmuring it over and over. She was losing herself, losing her ability to think. There was nothing but this man, and the things he was making her feel, and... Ellie's ears pricked up. ...and a sound at the door. "Charles," she whispered. "I think-" "Don't think." The knocking grew louder. "Someone is at the door." "No one would be that cruel," he murmured, his words disappearing into her neck. "Or that stupid." "Ellie!" they both heard, and it was immediately apparent that the voice belonged to Judith. "Damn," Charles swore, rolling off of Ellie.

Then the whole congregation joined in: “The Flowers of our loving Yah, Shine brighter than the sun, We hold them in our hearts with love, And they will never run.

Until you meet Jesus Christ you'll still believe that there is no light brighter than the sun

My lips pull back into a snarl. ‘Go to hell!’ He shakes his head. ‘No, Auren. You’re the one that needs to burn. You need to spark to life and fight. Stop letting him dull you, stop letting the whole fucking world trample you,’ he shouts, making me flinch from the vehement demand. ‘If you tried, you could shine brighter than the fucking sun. Instead, you’ve chosen to sit back and wither.

As many of you know, I have had a constant vision, periodically, of myself going to Arunachala, the sacred mountain where Ramana Maharshi lived. And the mountain is hollow in the vision. And I go through the mountain, to the center, where there's a bright light, a thousand times brighter than the sun, but yet it's pleasing and calm, and there's no heat. And then I meet Ramana, Jesus, Ramakrishna, Nisargad­atta, Lao Tse, and others. And we smile at each other, we walk toward each other, and melt into one light, and become one. Then there's a blinding light and an explosion. And then I open my eyes. (p. 221)

You are the sun. You shine brighter than anything in this universe. You burn so hot that when I touch you I'm sure I'll melt.

Mrs. Stubbs let out a grumble and muttered, “It’s very cold.” “Of course it is,” Ellie replied. “It’s ice.

This was the Padmé he adored, someone who spent most of her days understanding the nuances of countless beings to do right for them. Yet on occasion, a fire burst through, something brighter and more intense than the hottest sun—when she allowed it. Like now.

The sun is ninety-three million miles away, and you are unable to stare at it.1 You obviously can’t touch the sun and live, so how is it possible that we are currently attached to the One who shines brighter than the sun? High angels cover themselves with their wings in His presence (Isa. 6:2), yet you are a member of His body. Why would Someone so extraordinary choose to care for you like His own arm?

I love you. We both love you so much," I whisper as I fight my own tears. "I...know. I...love...you...too." She looks at me and Amon with the most beautiful smile. Even through a curtain of tears, her smile is still brighter than the sun. "Now...I...want...to..." she pauses, swallowing hard. "Die.

If you tried, you could shine brighter than the fucking sun.

I will venture to say, that in no writings whatever can be found more bark and steel for the mind, if I may use the expression; more that can brace and invigorate every manly and noble sentiment. No. 32 on patience, even under extreme misery, is wonderfully lofty, and as much above the rant of stoicism, as the Sun of Revelation is brighter than the twilight of Pagan philosophy.

god's terrible face,brighter than a spoon, collects the image of one fatal word; so that my life(which liked the sun and moon) resembles something that has not occurred

Tobacco,' Jig said. 'I used to raise tobacco once. But I quit. I was plowing one morning, and the Lord said, "Jig, how'd you like for your daughter to smoke?" And I said, "I wouldn't like it, Lord. It's a sin for a woman to smoke." And I unhitched the mule right there in the middle of the row and left.' 'You say you left?' 'Left,' Jig said. 'I went fishing then. You know that's where He called them from. From fishing. One of these mornings He'll come and stand on the riverbank and He'll say, "Jig." And I'll say, "Yes, Lord?" And He'll say, "Follow me, Jig." And I will arise and follow Him. Aw, He ain't come yet. But He's coming. He's got to get my mansion ready first, but He'll be here.' Then Jig told us about Heaven. He said it was a million miles square and a million miles high, and every street was gold and every house was a mansion. And at night every star was brighter than the sun. 'Do you know why He made the stars?' Uncle Burley said he didn't know. 'He liked to hear them sing,' Jig said.

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.

When she was happy, the whole world knew it because her smile was brighter than the sun, moon, and stars combined.

The sun is ninety-three million miles away, and you are unable to stare at it. 1 You obviously can’t touch the sun and live, so how is it possible that we are currently attached to the One who shines brighter than the sun? High angels cover themselves with their wings in His presence (Isa. 6: 2), yet you are a member of His body. Why would Someone so extraordinary choose to care for you like His own arm?

A man cannot live one’s life without at least one revolution. That revolution can be a revolution within. In oriental philosophical way of life, realisation of the self is not about knowing God but enlightenment about thy self, which is 'brighter than a thousand suns' This knowingness is the most creative experience and at the same time most destructive like a nuclear-bomb.

She dances, She dances around the burning flames with passion, Under the same dull stars, Under the same hell with crimson embers crashing, Under the same silver chains that wires, All her beauty and who she is inside, She's left with the loneliness of human existence, She's left questioning how she's survived, She's left with this awakening of brutal resilience, Her true beauty that she denies, As much she's like to deny it, As much as it continues to shine, That she doesn't even have to admit, Because we all know it's true, Her glory and success, After all she's been through, Her triumph and madness, AND YET, SHE STANDS. Broken legs- but she's still standing, Still dancing in this void, You must wonder how she's still dancing, You must wonder how she's not destroyed, She doesn't even begin to drown within the flames, But little do you realize, Within these chains, She weeps and she cries, But she still goes on, And just you thought you could stop her? You thought you'd be the one? Well, let me tell you, because you thought wrong. Nothing will ever silence her, Because I KNOW, I know that she is admiringly strong, Her undeniable beauty, The triumph of her song, She's shining bright like a ruby, Reflecting in the golden sand, She's shining brighter like no other, She's far more than human or man, AND YET, SHE STANDS. She continues to dance with free-spirit, Even though she's locked in these chains, Though she never desired to change it, Even throughout the agonizing pain, Throughout all the distress, Anxiety, depression, tears and sorrow, She still dances so beautify in her dress, She looks forward to tomorrow, Not because of a fresh start but a new page, A new day full of opportunities, Despite being trapped in her cage, She still smiles after being beaten so brutally, A smile that could brighten anyone's day, She's so much more than anyone could ask for, She's so much more than I could ever say, She's a girl absolutely everyone should adore, She never gets in the way, Even after her hearts been broken, Even after the way she has been treated, After all these severe emotions, After all all the blood she's bled, AND YET, SHE STANDS. Even if sometimes she wonders why she's still here, She wonders why she's not dead, But there's this one thing that had been here throughout every tear, Throughout the blazing fire leaving her cheeks cherry red, Everyday this thing has given her a place to exist, This thing, person, these people, Like warm sunlight it had so softly kissed, The apples of her cheeks, Even when she's feeling feeble, Always there at her worst and at her best Because of you and all the other people, She has this thing deep inside her chest, That she will cherish forever, Even once you're gone, Because today she smiles like no other, Even when the sun sets at dawn, Because today is the day, She just wants you to remember, In dark and stormy weather, It gets better. And after what she's been through she knows, Throughout the highs and the lows, Because of you and all others, After crossing the seas, She has come to understand, You have formed this key, This key to free her from this land, This endless gorge that swallowed her, Her and other men, She had never knew, nor had she planned, That because of you, AND YET, THIS VERY DAY, SHE DANCES. EVEN IN THE RAIN.

As he lights up, the sun is setting, turning the sky as many pastels as you see on the side of a rainbow trout. The reddest clouds are the fish cut open. Aspen trees are peaking with yellow. A wind comes up the draw, announced in advance by clapping aspen leaves, and then he can hear it take the pines around the house and he feels it on his cheek and it makes the end of his cigarette glow brighter. He takes a deep drag and looks down past the springhouse nested in orange willow branches. Up over the opposing hill he sees the snow on mountains west of Laramie. Another breath of wind comes up and starts the aspens chattering like nervous girls, and they catch the last low-angling rays of sun and flare. The dark tops of evergreens are red, almost bloody, and for a good thirty seconds he knows that the world is something altogether other than what it appears to be.

Just as the sun is infinitely brighter than a candle flame, there is infinitely more intelligence in Being than in your mind.

I love you brighter than the sun up in the sky

You never 'get over' the loss of a parent. It stays with you all day, every day, like a persistent shadow. But some days, you get lucky. The shadow kind of goes away for a little while. The sun shines brighter than usual, and all you feel is its warm glow around you.

I fucking love you, so how am I not supposed to worry?” I raised my voice more than I should, but my frustration got the best of me. His smile was brighter than the sun on a summer day. He relaxed in the chair, arms across his chest, staring me down with blue eyes that were both soft and amused at the same time. His mood had completely changed, and I didn’t know why. “What?” “How many times are you going to tell me you love me before you realize what you’re saying?” He cocked his head, that smile still wide on his mouth.

But I also don’t blame them for their envy. When you shine brighter than the sun, it’s hard for others to look at you, so you have two choices: look and be blinded with resentment or look away. It’s obvious they chose the latter.

His eyes were refulgent, brighter than any woman’s. He mispronounced quite common words: urticate, salpinx, bordereau.

The ink doesn't wash off, but I thought my Bitcoin was gone forever. I'd stashed $130,000 worth of crypto away to turn my tattoo parlor into a fantasy parlor—black walls, neon lights, the hum of needles mixed with classic rock music. But fate is cruelly ironic. One night, having spent an eight-hour shift etching half a snake wrapped around a dagger, I came home to find the shop robbed. Cash register emptied out, machines thrown around like playthings, and the worst of all, my phone stolen. That phone had my 2FA codes, the sacred keys to my digital riches. Panic washed over me like road rash on bare flesh. Without 2FA, my Bitcoin was more secure than a welded-shut vault. I plunged into horror. Every hour out of reach was like watching a masterpiece rot in the sun. Desperate, I griped to a client at a cover-up session. He had a Bitcoin logo stitched on his sleeve, alongside a skull laughing maniacally in a Digital hat. He leaned back in the chair, grinning like an old road captain, and said, "Brother, you need Digital Tech Guard Recovery. Those guys do magic." So, taking his tip, I did call them up. From the very first phone call, they were sharper than a new needle. They were in the business—talking carrier records, blockchain synchronization, and security breaches like old truckers swapping stories of carburetor war battles and close calls. They labored fast. Five days went by before I got the call. "We got it," the technician said. My heart was revving like a helicopter engine. My Bitcoin was once more in my hands, safe and sound. The Digitals did not cease. They guided me through backups, multi-device login, and offline wallets. "One key in your pocket, another in the wind," they said. Biker street smarts meets crypto security. Now, my studio is thriving. That neon sign? It glows brighter than ever. And on my forearm? A new tattoo: a Digital hat, with flames and Bitcoin logos surrounding it. A reminder that in this world, both on the road and on the internet, it's not about not falling, it's about knowing who you can call to pick you up. Digital Tech Guard Recovery: They're by your side, even when the ride gets rocky WhatsApp: +1 (443) 859 - 2886   Email @ digitaltechguard.com Telegram: digitaltechguard.com   Website link: digitaltechguard.com

I knew she could burn brighter than the sun if she only stepped out of his shade.

Suraj solar and allied industries, Wework galaxy, 43, Residency Road, Bangalore-560025. Mobile number : +91 808 850 7979 Introduction to Solar Rooftop in Bangalore Solar rooftop systems have emerged as a game-changing innovation in Bangalore's energy consumption, providing a green and sustainable alternative to conventional sources of power. Solar rooftops are gaining a lot of traction among residential, commercial, and industrial users in the city as it deals with rising energy demands and environmental concerns. This article examines the advantages, drawbacks, government initiatives, case studies, and prospects for the future of solar rooftops, which have had a profound effect on Bangalore's energy landscape. 1. Introduction to Bangalore's Solar Rooftops An Overview of Bangalore's Solar Rooftop Systems Ah, Bangalore! Home to tech whiz kids, filter coffee connoisseurs, and now the progressive pioneers who are embracing solar rooftops! The eco-friendly Batman of the energy industry, solar rooftop systems are perched atop buildings and convert sunlight into clean, renewable power. Installed on rooftops, these systems use solar panels to generate electricity, assisting in the reduction of reliance on conventional grid power. 2. Economic Benefits of Solar Rooftops for Energy Consumption Who doesn't love saving money while protecting the environment? The economic benefits of solar rooftops in Bangalore are significant. By producing your own power, you can slice those heavy energy bills and even bring in an additional money by selling overabundance influence back to the matrix. It's like having a solar side business on your roof! Impact on the Environment Let's be honest: Bangalore's air quality could use a break. When it comes to reducing emissions of greenhouse gases and air pollution, solar rooftops emerge as the cloaked crusaders. You are reducing your carbon footprint and contributing to a cleaner and greener Bangalore by using solar power. When the sun shines on your rooftop panels, it's like giving Mother Nature a high five. 3. Impact of Solar Rooftop in Bangalore Energy Landscape Reduction of Carbon Footprint Bangalore, with its vibrant culture and bustling IT hubs, can also be a hotbed for emissions. Sun powered roofs go about as the eco-heroes, checking carbon impressions and advancing manageability. The city has the potential to make a significant leap toward a more healthy environment and a brighter future for future generations by utilizing solar energy. Integration with Existing Energy Infrastructure The beauty of solar rooftops in Bangalore is that they seamlessly combine solar power with traditional grid energy. These frameworks can undoubtedly incorporate with the current energy foundation, making a more strong and dependable energy organization. It's like combining the best of both worlds to guarantee the city's bustling energy supply's stability and sustainability. 4. Adopting Solar Rooftops: Obstacles and Solutions Initial Cost and Return on Investment We understand that the initial cost of installing solar rooftops may appear to be the bad guy in this sustainability tale. However, rest assured! The return on investment for solar rooftops in Bangalore is brighter than a sunny day thanks to government subsidies, tax incentives, and lower panel prices. Consider it a long-term investment in the environment and your savings. Technical Considerations and Maintenance Although the process of maintaining solar rooftops may appear intimidating, it is not rocket science—rather, it is solar science! To keep your solar panels in top condition, all you need to do is clean them on a regular basis, keep an eye on how well the system is working, and do occasional maintenance checks. Navigating the technical aspects of solar rooftops has never been easier thanks to technological advancements and the assistance of local experts.