Guardian Of Forever Quotes

Don't hate me forever, Arty," whispered Holly. "I couldn't bear that.

Mike, however, heard nothing at all. Lost in her breathlike touch, he knew only one thing for sure: In the instant their lips first met, there was a flicker of something almost electrical that made him believe the feeling would last forever.

Someday, you will make an excellent guardian ba.” “Thanks,” I muttered. “Can’t wait to be poultry forever.

In the instant their lips first met, there was a flicker of something almost electrical that made him believe the feeling would last forever.

Fear is to begin with the end in mind. There is no end. Life is eternal. Live life knowing that the end was your past, and the future is only full of beautiful beginnings through an eternity built around God’s love.

I've loved him forever, but he can never be mine.

If you want to know if someone was meant to be in your future, then remove all the worldly things about them from your mind. Don’t think about their looks, the intimate moments or their personality. Now, think about how they made you feel, how they improved your life and what virtues they possess that push you to want to become better. Did they bring you closer to God? Did they bring you to your life mission? Did they ever lie to you, betray you or made it impossible for you to feel comfortable speaking your mind? When you remove all the shine from a diamond, it becomes a glass rock. What value is it then? See beneath the surface and you will know who your future is with.

Throughout life you will meet one person who is unlike any other. This person is one you could forever talk to. They understand you in a way that no one else does or even could. This person is your soul mate, your best friend. Don’t ever let them go, for they’re your guardian angel sent from heaven above

But I'm different now than I was then. Just like I was different at the end of the trip than I'd been in the beginning. And I'll be different tomorrow than i am today. And what that means is that i can never replicate that trip. Even if I went to the same places and met the same people, it would'nt be the same. My experience would'nt be the same. To me, that's what traveling should be about. Meeting people, learning to not only appreciate a different culture, but really enjoy it like a local, following whatever impulse strikes you. So how could I recommend a trip to someone else, if I don't even know what to expect? My advice would be to make a list of places on some index cards, shuffle them, and pick any fice at random. Then just . . . go and see what happens. If you have the right mind-set, it does'nt matter where you end up or how much money you brought. It'll be something you'll remember forever.

Every person with ADHD already knows that destination addiction is part of their disorder. However, if it doesn’t have a positive outlet, it can destroy your life. It is not another person that will make your life better; it is the qualities in them that you admire. Incorporate those attributes into your own life and you won’t miss a thing.

He'd asked if I felt the pull. I could'nt deny that I did. And that it terrified me. It wasn't like a crush. It wasn't like seeing a guy and thinking I'd like him to take me to the prom. It was soul-deep, as though he was everything, the one, forever. I had to remind myself that I barely knew the guy. But still I couldn't shake the feeling of being meant for each other - as corny as that sounded.

Her physical beauty had initially caught my attention, but it was her spirit that imprisoned my heart and soul forever. - Jonathan

I'd just pledged to you to keep protecting the happiness of everyone on this planet, forever. And it's not a dream at all! Defending this planet is our everyday reality. We can't let ourselves get defeated here, by nightmares or even our own dreams...! ...There's no way we Sailor Guardians can lose!

To crave forever is to dismiss the beauty and wonder of the cycle.

I can love no other. But he cannot live forever.

I think I’ll feel out of place wherever I go on earth, forever. But that’s fine. I have to make my peace with that.

In all cases love was a strong emotion, not easily contained once it was unleashed. I realized now that love was like a blossoming flower that continually added more and more petals. But there was no end point. There was no full bloom. It went on forever. Growing, strengthening.

Buddy, you have no idea what I am capable of. Now, put the rifle down on the ground. Step back and walk away. Then leave this place and do not ever come back. If you do that, I will let you live.

As parents and guardians, we have to dissect what our children go through very carefully, and we have to look at each angle because as we all know, lies can’t live forever. We have to remind our children that they are important to us. We have to teach them how to stand their ground and reassure them that they will not have to stand alone.

I have a counteroffer. I'll tell you the job description I really want." Raine's throat tightened in frustration. If he was going to keep it on this level, it was up to her to force them to the next one. As always. Seth looked down at his feet. She saw his Adam's apple bob, once. Twice. He met her eyes, with the look of a man who was facing the firing squad. "Full-time lover," he said hoarsely. "Father of your children. Companion in adventure, champion, guardian, protector, helpmeet, mate. Love of you life. Forever.

No soul- no matter how great or how small- can avoid pain. Sometimes the greater the destiny, the greater the amount of pain. Knowing that nothing lasts forever. That all things must come to pass.

We aren't fighting right now." I blurted out. He gave me a sidelong look. "Do you want to fight?" "No. I hate fighting with you. Verbally, I mean. I don't mind in the gym." I thought I detected the hint of a smile. Always a half-smile for me. Rarely a full one. "I don't like fighting with you either." Sitting next to him there, I marveled at the warm and happy emotions springing up inside me. There was something about being around him that felt so good, that moved me in a way Mason couldn't. You can't force love, I realized, It's there or it isn't. If it's not there, you've got to be able to admit it. If it is there, you've got to do whatever it takes to protect the ones you love. The next words that came out of my mouth astonished me, both because they were completely unselfish and because I actually meant them. "You should take it." He flinched. "What?" "Tasha's offer. You should take her up on it. It's a really great chance." I remembered my mom's words about being ready for children. I wasn't. Maybe she hadn't been. But Tasha was. And I knew Dimitri was too. They got along really well. He could go be her guardian, have some kids with her...it would be a good deal for both of them. "I never expected to hear you say anything like that," he told me, voice tight. "Especially after-" "What a bitch I've been? Yeah." I tugged his coat tighter against the cold. It smelled like him. It was intoxicating, and I could half-imagine being wrapped in his embrace. Adrian might have been onto something about the power of scent. "Well. Like I said, I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want us to hate each other. And...well..." I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them. "No matter how I feel about us...I want you to be happy." Silence yet again. I noticed then that my chest hurt. Dimitri reached out and put his arm around me. He pulled me to him, and I rested my head on his chest. "Roza," was all he said. It was the first time he'd really touched me since the night of the lust charm. The practice room had been something different...more animal. This wasn't even about sex. It was just about being close to someone you cared about, about the emotion that kind of connection flooded you with. Dimitri might run off with Tasha, but I would still love him. I would probably always love him. I cared about Mason. But I would probably never love him. I sighed into Dimitri, just wishing I could stay like that forever. It felt right being with him. And-no matter how much the thought of him and Tasha made me ache-doing what was best for him felt right. Now, I knew, it was time to stop being a coward and do something else that was right. Mason had said I needed to learn something about myself. I just had. Reluctantly, I pulled away and handed Dimitri his coat. I stood up. He regarded me curiously, sensing my unease. "Where you going?" he asked. "To break someone's heart," I replied. I admired Dimitri for a heartbeat more-the dark, knowing eyes and silken hair. The I headed inside. I had to apologize to Mason...and tell him there'd never be anything between us.

Starting over is not a sign of failure. I look at it this way: A person enrolled at the wrong life college, underwent some hellish classes, passed a lot of difficult tests, majored in perspective, and a minored in minor things. However, they graduated at the top of their class and are now qualified to teach a course titled, How Not To Do That Ever Again.

Lost in her breath-like touch, he knew only one thing for sure: In the instant their lips first met, there was a flicker of something almost electrical that made him believe the feeling would last forever.

Words are very powerful. They live on forever and they can be shared again and again. Each one of us may find something different within them, but they have the power to truly guide us and impact us in our lives.

Yours always, Mine Forever.

In my hand I hold a small guardian angel figurine set in a smooth, clear stone. It’s beautiful, a promise of love. Of forever.

No soul- no matter how great or how small- can avoid pain. Sometimes the greater the destiny, the greater the amount of pain. Knowing that nothing lasts forever. That all things must come to pass.” Havah says to Mercury.

One of the hardest things you will ever have to go through is the death of a child. The second hardest thing you will ever have to go through is having a child die at Christmas time. The third hardest thing you will ever have to go through is telling your child that their friend and family member has passed away. The bittersweet moment that pulls you through it all is when your child says, "Mom don't cry. They're okay because they are with God now and they promise not to leave until they help you get through this.

The James Bond movies and the comic books had it all wrong. You did not need elaborate contraptions, complicated plans, and futuristic doomsday weapons to wipe out of all of humankind. All you needed was a fully realized vision and an intense focus. All you needed to do is give a little push to what was already happening; what was inevitable. All you had to do is get one group of people who believe in an invisible man in the sky to get really pissed off at another group of people who believe in a slightly different version of the same invisible man in the sky.

Every pellet has a story all its own. Every pellet has a story all its own. With its fur and teeth and bones And one or two stones, Every pellet has a story all its own. We shall dissect every pellet with glee. Perhaps we'll find a rodents knee. And never shall we tire In the sacred task that we conspire, No do our work less perfectly And those bright flecks at the core, Which makes our hearts soar, Shall forever remain the deepest mystery. - The owlets in the Pelletorium at St. Aegolius

But she was no guardian angel. She was not trying to help me at all. She had been trying to claim me as she had claimed the lives of my fellow passengers. She was the thing that remained forever unseen in my visions of her tales. She lurked near the bodies of those whose whose lives were so cruelly taken. She was there always, waiting.

...watching from the darkness. Forever in darkness. A guardian devil.

And....and well, I can't be kissing a man. that's a good way to get tangled up...in forever

This is a place of mystery, Julián, a sanctuary. Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens. This place was already ancient when my father brought me here for the first time, many years ago. Perhaps as old as the city itself. Nobody knows for certain how long it has existed, or who created it. . . . When a library disappears, or a bookshop closes down, when a book is consigned to oblivion, those of us who know this place, its guardians, make sure that it gets here. In this place, books no longer remembered by anyone, books that are lost in time, live forever, waiting for the day when they will reach a new reader’s hands. . . . in truth books have no owner. Every book you see here has been somebody’s best friend. Now they only have us . . .

Oh, God, I would give anything to change the past,” he gasped. “To make it so that the last thing you saw was not me walking away from you. In your memories I am forever one and twenty, and cocky, and sneering, and looking self-righteous. And I’ve changed, Beth,” he gasped, choking on a sob he could not hide. “I want so damn much for you to see how I’ve changed. To see me now. There are no lies in my eyes. No motives other than to show you that I am not the callous man I was. And that I love you…. I love you so damn much.” He was crying. The tears trickled unchecked down his cheeks, dripping onto his lips. She touched them, wiped them away, which only caused them to spill faster and harder.

I choose us. Now and forever. I swear to you I’ll always, for the rest of my life, choose us.

God is my desire, Faith is my guardian, and the Love of Christ is my portion forever. For God is Love and without Him I am nothing.

The stars awaken me to the truths of the day, like guardians of the night, forever lighting the way.

To a Familiar Genius Flying By Reveal yourself, anonymous enchanter! What heaven hastens you to me? Why draw me to that promised land again That I gave up so long ago? Was it not you who in my youth Enchanted me with such sweet dreams, Did you not whisper, long ago, Dear hopes of a guests ethereal? Was it not you through whom all lived In golden days, in happy lands Of fragrant meadows, waters bright, Where days were merry ?neath clear skies? Was it not you who breathed into my vernal breast Some melancholy mysteries Tormenting it with keen desire Exciting it to anxious joy? Was it not you who bore my soul aloft Upon the inspiration of your sacred verse, Who flamed before me like a holy vision, Initiating me into life's beauty? In hours lost, hours of secret grief, Did you not always murmur to my heart, With happy comfort soothe it And nurture it with quiet hope? Did not my soul forever heed you In all the purest moments of my life When'ere it glimpsed fate's sacred essence With only God to witness it? What news bring you, O, my enchantress? Or will you once more call in dreams Awaken futile thoughts of old, Whisper of joy and then fall silent? O spirit, bide with me awhile; O, faithful friend, haste not away; Stay, please become my earthly life, O, Guardian angel of my soul.

Live knowing that you are already dust, long gone, already outside time and looking in, reviewing life, finally understanding every déja vu, your own guardian angel. Know that the scorched-black demons and the pristine, fluttering seraphs are in some sense naught but you yourself unpacked, unfolded in a higher space from whence the myriad gods unfurl, not bygone legends but your once and future selves, your attributes blossomed into their purest and most potent symbol-forms. And these, with all their beast-heats, crowns and lightings, all their different colors, are become combined into the single whiteness that is godhead. That is all. This, then, is revelation. All is one, and all is deity, this beautiful undying fire of being that is everywhere about us; that we are. O man, o woman, know yourself, and know you are divine. Respect yourself, respect the least phenomenon of your existence as it were the breath of God. Know that our universe is all one place, a single firelit room, all time a single moment. Know that there has only ever been one person here. Know you are everything, forever. Know I love you.

This is a place of mystery, Daniel, a sanctuary. Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens. This place was already ancient when my father brought me here for the first time, many years ago. Perhaps as old as the city itself. Nobody knows for certain how long it has existed, or who created it. I will tell you what my father told me, though. When a library disappears, or a bookshop closes down, when a book is consigned to oblivion, those of us who know this place, its guardians, make sure that it gets here. In this place, books no longer remembered by anyone, books that are lost in time, live forever, waiting for the day when they will reach a new reader's hands. In the shop we buy and sell them, but in truth books have no owner. Every book you here has been somebody's best friend. Now they only have us, Daniel. Do you think you'll be able to keep such a secret?' My gaze was lost in the immensity of the place and its sorcery of light. I nodded, and my father smiled.

You’re hurting me,” she whimpered, unable to enjoy the moment as the harrowing pain from her spanking was too intense. “This is not about you, Skylar Jeannine. It is about my claim to you,” Tralec announced through gritted teeth as his gills began to flush and his organ grew painfully tight inside of her ass. “I am claiming you as mine forever. Accept me!” he demanded, flooding her with a massive river of his juices.

Perception. Is. Everything. People aren’t one-dimensional characters. We’re complex creatures. With feelings. Compassion. Morals. And the lack thereof. To some, I would forever be the villain. But even the darkest shadows require light to exist.

Henceforth, safe across the river, I shall see forever more A beloved, household spirit Waiting for me on the shore. Hope and faith, born of my sorrow, Guardian angels shall become, And the sister gone before me, By their hands shall lead me home.

She brought a finger to her mouth, licked it. Salt. A clean scent. Not male sweat rich with the scent of musk and masculine flesh, but something else. Something purer. Tears. “Iain?” He trembled and she could have sworn she heard his tears run down his cheeks and plop onto the pillow. “My God, Beth. I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you in my heart and in my soul.” And then he stiffened, pressed his fingers into her hips, squeezing. “Can I, Beth? Can I come inside you?” “Yes,” she murmured, holding him close, feeling his body shudder beneath hers. “And stay forever.

When their lips finally met, all the pent up emotion within Christina’s breast surged, funneling into a whirlwind of heat. Pushing away all thoughts, she allowed herself only to feel. Lachlan could be so physical, so powerful, so brutal, but when he wrapped his arms around her, Christina felt invincible. Be it true or nay, she felt loved, and cherished, and valued. Reaching up, she slid her fingers through his locks. Soft waves of thick tresses contrasted with hardened male…. As his kiss eased, he cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. “I wish I could hold you in my arms forever.

Michael grew silent, his gaze softening as he looked from me to Will, and a dim light of hope flickered in my heart. “You would mourn for him.” “Yes, I said. “I would mourn him forever with a broken heart. This human soul has given me so many blessings and curses. I’m the only one of our kind who has ever felt the most perfect happiness and the truest sorrow - because of this soul. My love for my Guardian is one of those blessings. It’s not a curse.” “You can,” I promised. “Please trust me. I need all the help I can get, and that includes yours. If you kill my Guardian, then I will never forgive you. I can’t be at war with you too. Please, please, Michael, my brother. Don’t kill him. … A tear caught on the edge of my lips. “Do you love me as your sister?” His mouth opened to reply, but nothing came out. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re worried about me, because you love me. Don’t be afraid of feeling anything. our Father made us this way. He wouldn’t make a mistake.” “I…,” Michael said, and emotion spilled over his face. His brow furrowed with exhaustion and he seemed overwhelmed by what he felt. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “You are my sister, Gabriel.” “Then don’t do this.” I begged him. He was quiet again for several agonising moments, returning to his emotionless state. “Keep him. I have faith in you, Sister. Will and I breathed sighs of relief, but it was a few seconds before Michael withdrew his sword. His expression remained unchanging as he lifted Will’s death warrant.

I think once you reach our age, you realize just how valuable each minute is. When you treasure something, you pay attention to it. We watch each minute fly by, knowing the next isn’t guaranteed. I reckon that’s why they seem like quicksilver. Moments of life flash and shimmer in front of our eyes before they’re gone forever

The plane banked, and he pressed his face against the cold window. The ocean tilted up to meet him, its dark surface studded with points of light that looked like constellations, fallen stars. The tourist sitting next to him asked him what they were. Nathan explained that the bright lights marked the boundaries of the ocean cemeteries. The lights that were fainter were memory buoys. They were the equivalent of tombstones on land: they marked the actual graves. While he was talking he noticed scratch-marks on the water, hundreds of white gashes, and suddenly the captain's voice, crackling over the intercom, interrupted him. The ships they could see on the right side of the aircraft were returning from a rehearsal for the service of remembrance that was held on the ocean every year. Towards the end of the week, in case they hadn't realised, a unique festival was due to take place in Moon Beach. It was known as the Day of the Dead... ...When he was young, it had been one of the days he most looked forward to. Yvonne would come and stay, and she'd always bring a fish with her, a huge fish freshly caught on the ocean, and she'd gut it on the kitchen table. Fish should be eaten, she'd said, because fish were the guardians of the soul, and she was so powerful in her belief that nobody dared to disagree. He remembered how the fish lay gaping on its bed of newspaper, the flesh dark-red and subtly ribbed where it was split in half, and Yvonne with her sleeves rolled back and her wrists dipped in blood that smelt of tin. It was a day that abounded in peculiar traditions. Pass any candy store in the city and there'd be marzipan skulls and sugar fish and little white chocolate bones for 5 cents each. Pass any bakery and you'd see cakes slathered in blue icing, cakes sprinkled with sea-salt.If you made a Day of the Dead cake at home you always hid a coin in it, and the person who found it was supposed to live forever. Once, when she was four, Georgia had swallowed the coin and almost choked. It was still one of her favourite stories about herself. In the afternoon, there'd be costume parties. You dressed up as Lazarus or Frankenstein, or you went as one of your dead relations. Or, if you couldn't think of anything else, you just wore something blue because that was the colour you went when you were buried at the bottom of the ocean. And everywhere there were bowls of candy and slices of special home-made Day of the Dead cake. Nobody's mother ever got it right. You always had to spit it out and shove it down the back of some chair. Later, when it grew dark, a fleet of ships would set sail for the ocean cemeteries, and the remembrance service would be held. Lying awake in his room, he'd imagine the boats rocking the the priest's voice pushed and pulled by the wind. And then, later still, after the boats had gone, the dead would rise from the ocean bed and walk on the water. They gathered the flowers that had been left as offerings, they blew the floating candles out. Smoke that smelt of churches poured from the wicks, drifted over the slowly heaving ocean, hid their feet. It was a night of strange occurrences. It was the night that everyone was Jesus... ...Thousands drove in for the celebrations. All Friday night the streets would be packed with people dressed head to toe in blue. Sometimes they painted their hands and faces too. Sometimes they dyed their hair. That was what you did in Moon Beach. Turned blue once a year. And then, sooner or later, you turned blue forever.

There was a risk that Morrison might slip away, and before releasing him, Agent Burger made sure that he’d gone through a rigorous process known as Bertillonage. Devised by the French criminologist Alphonse Bertillon in 1879, it was the first scientific method for identifying repeat criminals. Using a caliper and other special tools, Agent Burger, with the help of the Dallas police, took eleven of Morrison’s body measurements. Among them were the length of his left foot, the width and length of his head, and the diameter of his right ear. After Agent Burger informed Morrison of the purpose of these measurements, he also commissioned a mug shot, another of Bertillon’s innovations. In 1894, Ida Tarbell, the muckraking journalist, wrote that any prisoner who passed through Bertillon’s system would be forever “spotted”: “He may efface his tattooing, compress his chest, dye his hair, extract his teeth, scar his body, dissimulate his height. It is useless.” But Bertillonage was already being displaced by a more efficient method of identification that was revolutionizing the world of scientific detection: fingerprinting. In some cases, a suspect could now be placed at the scene of a crime even without a witness present. When Hoover became the bureau’s acting director, he created the Identification Division, a central repository for the fingerprints of arrested criminals from around the country. Such scientific methods, Hoover proclaimed, would assist “the guardians of civilization in the face of the common danger.

Lydia arched a chiding brow at him. “My father didn’t tell me anything and I’m still angry at him for that. But I remembered you. Even though I didn’t understand it, I felt you with me constantly. And if that wasn’t enough…” She took his hand and placed it on her stomach so he could feel the slight swelling there. “You left me with a very special gift.” The news slammed into him harder than one of Noir’s blows. She was pregnant? With his child. Unimaginable joy ripped through him as he felt the slightest fluttering of his son or daughter moving inside her. But that only solidified his resolve. “You won’t be safe if I leave.” She cupped his now healed face in her hands. “No one ever is, Seth. No matter how hard we try. No matter how much we plan and prepare. There will always be an enemy at the door and a storm trying to knock us down. Life’s not about security. It’s about picking up the pieces after it’s all over and carrying on. We can choose to be cowards who fear letting someone inside us, and do that alone. Or we can choose to be brave and let someone stand by our side and help us. I’m not a coward. I never have been. And there is nowhere else I plan to be, except beside you. Forever. Be it on earth, or here in this hellhole if that’s what it takes. I will always be with you.” In that moment, he realized he didn’t need his swallow to fly him away from pain. All he needed was her. And she was right. It took much more courage to lay his heart open to someone else than it did to keep it guarded. To let someone else in to that place deep inside where only they could do you harm. Only Lydia could destroy him. And yet only she gave him life … at least one worth living.

My name is Stacy. If you are reading this, then you have also discovered the secret I discovered—and that my mother first discovered—of a new wolf species. I implore you to keep this secret and join me in my fight to protect them and use their powers for good in the world. I have no doubt that the wolves you are with have changed your life, the way my life was forever changed by Everest, Basil, Addison, Noah, Tucker, Wink, Atlas, Ribsy, Paisley, and Pearl. They’ve given me a purpose and a love for the natural planet and the animals in it. They’ve given me a family of pets to care for and who care for me. I don’t know where I will be when you are reading this, as I expect my work with the wolves to take me on many adventures all over the world. But I hope you will join me. Join me in being a guardian of the forest and a sentinel of the ocean. Join me . . . in being a wild rescuer.

Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of the person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens. This place was already ancient when my father brought me here for the first time, many years ago. Perhaps as old as the city itself. Nobody knows for certain how long it has existed, or who created it. I will tell you what my father told me, though. When a library disappears, or a bookshop closes down, when a book is consigned to oblivion, those of us who know this place, its guardians, make sure that it gets here. In this place, books no longer remembered by anyone, books that are lost in time, live forever, waiting for the day when they will reach a new reader’s hands. In the shop we buy and sell them, but in truth books have no owner. Every book you see here has been somebody’s best friend.

The ordinary reader today knows about the Grail thanks only to Richard Wagner's Parsifal, which, in its Romantic approach, really deforms and twists the whole myth. Equally misleading is the attempt to interpret the mystery of the Grail in Christian terms: for Christian elements only play an accessory, secondary and concealing role in the saga. In order to grasp the true significance of the myth, it is necessary instead to consider the more immediate points of reference represented by the themes and echoes pertaining to the cycle of King Arthur, which survives in the Celtic and Nordic traditions. The Grail essentially embodies the source of a transcendent and immortalizing power of primordial origin that has been preserved after the 'Fall', degeneration and decadence of humanity. Significantly, all sources agree that the guardians of the Grail are not priests, but are knights and warriors - besides, the very place where the Grail is kept is described not as a temple or church, but as a royal palace or castle. In the book, I argued that the Grail can be seen to possess an initiatory (rather than vaguely mystical) character: that it embodies the mystery of warrior initiation. Most commonly, the sagas emphasize one additional element: the duties deriving from such initiation. The predestined Knight - he who has received the calling and has enjoyed a vision of the Grail, or received its boons – or he who has 'fought his way' to the Grail (as described in certain texts) must accomplish his duty of restoring legitimate power, lest he forever be damned. The Knight must either allow a prostrate, deceased, wounded or only apparently living King to regain his strength, or personally assume the regal role, thus restoring a fallen kingdom. The sagas usually attribute this function to the power of the Grail. A significant means to assess the dignity or intentions of the Knight is to 'ask the question': the question concerning the purpose of the Grail. In many cases, the posing of this crucial question coincides with the miracle of awakening, of healing or of restoration.

We think of men as antiheroes, as capable of occupying an intense and fascinating moral grey area; of being able to fall, and rise, and fall again, but still be worthy of love on some fundamental level, because if it was the world and its failings that broke them, then we surely must owe them some sympathy. But women aren’t allowed to be broken by the world; or if we are, it’s the breaking that makes us villains. Wronged women turn into avenging furies, inhuman and monstrous: once we cross to the dark side, we become adversaries to be defeated, not lost souls in need of mending. Which is what happens, when you let benevolent sexism invest you in the idea that women are humanity’s moral guardians and men its native renegades: because if female goodness is only ever an inherent quality – something we’re born both with and to be – then once lost, it must necessarily be lost forever, a severed limb we can’t regrow. Whereas male goodness, by virtue of being an acquired quality – something bestowed through the kindness of women, earned through right action or learned through struggle – can just as necessarily be gained and lost multiple times without being tarnished, like a jewel we might pawn in hardship, and later reclaim.

My Beth Sitting patient in the shadow Till the blessed light shall come, A serene and saintly presence Sanctifies our troubled home. Earthly joys and hopes and sorrows Break like ripples on the strand Of the deep and solemn river Where her willing feet now stand. O my sister, passing from me, Out of human care and strife, Leave me, as a gift, those virtues Which have beautified your life. Dear, bequeath me that great patience Which has power to sustain A cheerful, uncomplaining spirit In its prison-house of pain. Give me, for I need it sorely, Of that courage, wise and sweet, Which has made the path of duty Green beneath your willing feet. Give me that unselfish nature, That with charity devine Can pardon wrong for love’s dear sake — Meek heart, forgive me mine! Thus our parting daily loseth Something of its bitter pain, And while learning this hard lesson, My great loss becomes my gain. For the touch of grief will render My wild nature more serene, Give to life new aspirations, A new trust in the unseen. Henceforth, safe across the river, I shall see forever more A beloved, household spirit Waiting for me on the shore. Hope and faith, born of my sorrow, Guardian angels shall become, And the sister gone before me By their hands shall lead me home.

Most of the Times, Life shows us how difficult this journey is, only at Times when the sun clears we see the Sunshine, but the rain often washes away the clouds and both the clouds and the rain dampen our weary hearts, only to let us see a glimpse of a distant rainbow, once in a while. I guess it's always about the Time, the guardian of this Journey that we have to wait and persevere, that we have to remain resilient in the resolve to walk ahead, to find some way to hold on to the voyage, to not let the ship sink in the hollows of a mirage, to just live. And that is what Life is about, perhaps to know that Gloom and Melancholy is a distinct part of our journey, and actually something that occupies the most part of our journey, and it doesn't have to be a deep Grief it can simply be the mundane sorrow of carrying on this existence knowing that Life is just a short frame holding dark colours as much as the bright ones, sometimes even more of those blackness only to bring out the whites a little bit more. And while all of this goes on, somewhere our heart would know that there is One who is beyond this frame of Life and the space of Time and Cosmos; who is always holding your hand giving you the breath to walk ahead. May be He doesn't take away the blackness but throughout stays firm in your path, holding your shadow and your soul ever so gently to make you become the Light that you could only possibly be by embracing all of your Soul's journey. He doesn't perhaps change the potholes in your way, but He does ensure that even when you tumble you don't end up falling and if you do fall, He makes sure that you rise all over again from the flames of Life's fire with the fury of a phoenix. He doesn't end your suffering but lets you see that throughout your pain He is partaking in an even greater portion of it, alongside you. Simple, He doesn't let you see that He is God, because He shares your Life as a companion, walking beside you hand in hand, to make you live all that your soul had contracted before this journey began and even when He is beyond Time, He lets Time be your friend in a journey that is bound in human flesh and guarded by the tick-tock of that guardian. So when I asked my Soul, what is that troubles me the most, I heard my Soul, Smile in a safe knowledge, when I have Him, need I let my troubles concern me? My heart knew, He has already tucked my mind in the tranquil world of Life's paint-brush and a rainbow is just around the corner. A distant yet distinct rainbow. A rainbow that is churned in Love, the love that only He can provide, the Love that is always lurking on the edges of those clouds and rain, in the silhouette of a rainbow forever promised on the other side of a thunderstorm. Love & Light, always - Debatrayee

A candle unused is but wax and wick [...] I would rather light the flame, knowing it will go out, than sit forever in darkness.

Kairos was young and wing-footed and forever gorgeous, despite having no hair except a single shock over his forehead. Kairos is the god of golden opportunities and guardian of outlaws, and he could work wonders for you if you were quick enough to grab him by the forelock.

He guarded him . . . like an eagle that stirs up its nest and hovers over its young, that spreads its wings to catch them and carries them on its pinions. The Lord alone led him; no foreign god was with him. (Deuteronomy 32:10–12) Our almighty God is like a parent who delights in leading the tender children in His care to the very edge of a precipice and then shoving them off the cliff into nothing but air. He does this so they may learn that they already possess an as-yet-unrealized power of flight that can forever add to the pleasure and comfort of their lives. Yet if, in their attempt to fly, they are exposed to some extraordinary peril, He is prepared to swoop beneath them and carry them skyward on His mighty wings. When God brings any of His children into a position of unparalleled difficulty, they may always count on Him to deliver them. from The Song of Victory When God places a burden upon you, He places His arms underneath you. There once was a little plant that was small and whose growth was stunted, for it lived under the shade of a giant oak tree. The little plant valued the shade that covered it and highly regarded the quiet rest that its noble friend provided. Yet there was a greater blessing prepared for this little plant. One day a woodsman entered the forest with a sharp ax and felled the giant oak. The little plant began to weep, crying out, “My shelter has been taken away. Now every fierce wind will blow on me, and every storm will seek to uproot me!” The guardian angel of the little plant responded, “No! Now the sun will shine and showers will fall on you more abundantly than ever before. Now your stunted form will spring up into loveliness, and your flowers, which could never have grown to full perfection in the shade, will laugh in the sunshine. And people in amazement will say, ‘Look how that plant has grown! How gloriously beautiful it has become by removing that which was its shade and its delight!’ ” Dear believer, do you understand that God may take away your comforts and privileges in order to make you a stronger Christian? Do you see why the Lord always trains His soldiers not by allowing them to lie on beds of ease but by calling them to difficult marches and service? He makes them wade through streams, swim across rivers, climb steep mountains, and walk many long marches carrying heavy backpacks of sorrow. This is how He develops soldiers—not by dressing them up in fine uniforms to strut at the gates of the barracks or to appear as handsome gentlemen to those who are strolling through the park. No, God knows that soldiers can only be made in battle and are not developed in times of peace. We may be able to grow the raw materials of which soldiers are made, but turning them into true warriors requires the education brought about by the smell of gunpowder and by fighting in the midst of flying bullets and exploding bombs, not by living through pleasant and peaceful times. So, dear Christian, could this account for your situation? Is the Lord uncovering your gifts and causing them to grow? Is He developing in you the qualities of a soldier by shoving you into the heat of the battle? Should you not then use every gift and weapon He has given you to become a conqueror? Charles H. Spurgeon

I’ll deal with your hang-ups if you’ll deal with mine, but if you’re still too scared to even try, then you’re not worth waiting for. I have some goddamn pride left and I won’t wait forever.

Morningleaf took a deep, proud breath. “No pregnant mare could have migrated alone, with no help from the herd, like she did. She’s incredible.” Star knew all about that, but it didn’t make him feel any better, because his mother had died and was gone forever.

A war on Eden.” The words hit Methuselah and Edna hard. And sank deep. They knew the reason without Yahipan needing to finish. “We are going to storm the Garden, destroy the Cherubim, and capture the Tree of Life,” said Yahipan. The consequences of this plan horrified Methuselah. A malevolent race of giants with the power to live forever would reach heights of evil he could not even imagine. They would be invincible in their might and omnipotent in their rule. “How?” asked Methuselah. “The guardians…” he sought to finish his question.

forever—when

SYLO Today. Tomorrow. Forever Sequentia yconomus libertate te ex inferis obedianter. We were the guardians. We were SYLO.

Nessie cackles, tossing back her head of matted brunette locks, wildly beautiful even in a state of disarray. "Thought ye could get rid of me, Nwyfre? You're a damned fool, boy. Forever I'm yours. Forever and beyond.

Having lived this long, I feel like there are four things in life you can't be too persistent about figuring out: the idea of eternity, right or wrong, good and evil, and life and death... First, persistence can be a virtue, but if you're inflexible and insist that something must last forever, you'll fear loss even while you hold that thing in your hands. You won't be able to see your path clearly. Second, of course you should have a sense of justice, but if you're consumed by the idea that something must be right or wrong, it's easy to develop tunnel vision. There aren't many absolute rights or absolute wrongs in this world. Third, while it's important to repent of your mistakes and strive for goodness, being locked into a dichotomy of good and evil will make you rigid and unforgiving. You'll become arrogant and expect the world to conform to your perspective, and you'll always be disappointed. And finally, while life and death are tremendously important, if you live your entire life in terror of death, you'll never really live at all.

Some people believe reincarnation is an endless cycle of killing, the old replaced by the new. What’s lost will be lost forever, and what has passed will never return. With a turn of the clock, one can look back, but not go back. With a turn of the reincarnation cycle, though, even if one tried to look back, they wouldn’t know which way to look.

Ranoss lit an arrow and positioned it in his crossbow, his anger rising at the falsehoods Kyle was telling Nyla. ’Twas just like the enemy to use Scripture, to use bits of truth mixed with a host of lies to lure the naive into darkness. After Nyla had nearly given her life to the Commander, Ranoss knew the battle would intensify. She was right on the precipice of eternity, but ’twas a dangerous place to reside. One lie, believed, could drag her back into the darkness. One prayer of faith could surround her with light forever.

Dedicated to the Earth and Hope   Reality is where we are, Reality is who we are, Reality is what we are, Reality is always so near and never too far, It nestles as much in peace as much in war, And that is why it is important to know who we are, The inhabitants of the Earth where we are, Blessed with the warmth and life granting glow of a munificent star, That happens to be our reality in which we are, Whether we learn to bend it, Or stretch it, The realism of reality is where we always are; in an inescapable part of it. So let us not bend the reality, Because then roses will lose their beauty, And we as humans shall be deprived of our character and integrity, Let Saabir always find his rose and offer it to his beloved Hope, Even if time with reality does elope, Yet it always lies in a dimension of reality and hope, Let us all strive together to give Earth its second chance, For future generations a playground to feel loved and to romance, And then let reality get engrossed in its joyful dance, Where being trapped forever is an endless feeling of merriment, Because who knows what lies in that distant firmament, Our reality is Earth and it is a reality so permanent, Let us be the guardians of her soul, Let us protect it as a whole, And by doing so don’t you think we actually resurrect the reality of our own soul?

These things called “Problems” are Nature’s Guardians: “They confront people who break her commands.” No one could ignore them, for they pester: “They make the world stay on track forever.” Hence, when no problems do come to your life, it means with Nature’s laws you have no strife. But when they do come, do not ever whine: “It’s simply telling you to realign.

I remember sitting in silence for a while, wanting nothing more than to break down. I didn’t, though. I didn’t break down. I just sat there, waiting. I’m not sure what I was really waiting for. I think I just wanted a sign, or something. Like, from the universe, saying it wasn’t the end, and that I should keep fighting. But I never got that sign. Must’ve been forever before I realized my guardian angel wasn’t gonna fall from the sky and make him love me again. No amount of false hope or sadness was gonna fix my heart, so when I realized that and finally decided to get up from my spot where I feel like I’d been sitting for days, I kind of just… accepted it. I accepted that the moon stopped following me home and the girl I loved didn’t love me anymore. This wasn’t a fairytale and I wasn’t a kid anymore. It was time to let go. I had to let go. So I did. I let go.

I remember sitting in silence for a while, wanting nothing more than to break down. I didn’t, though. I didn’t break down. I just sat there, waiting. I’m not sure what I was really waiting for. I think I just wanted a sign, or something. Like, from the universe, saying it wasn’t the end, and that I should keep fighting. But I never got that sign. Must’ve been forever before I realized my guardian angel wasn’t gonna fall from the sky and make him love me again. No amount of false hope or sadness was gonna fix my heart, so when I realized that and finally decided to get up from my spot where I feel like I’d been sitting for days, I kind of just… accepted it. I accepted that the moon stopped following me home and the boy I loved didn’t love me anymore. This wasn’t a fairytale and I wasn’t a kid anymore. It was time to let go. I had to let go. So I did. I let go.

Gylf, you can practice forever and still never fly if you do not really believe you can.

O Jesus, I have promised to serve Thee to the end; Be Thou forever near me, my Master and my Friend; I shall not fear the battle if Thou art by my side, Nor wander from the pathway if Thou wilt be my Guide. Oh, let me hear Thee speaking in accents clear and still, I dare not trust my judgment: Thy way shall be my will; Oh, speak to reassure me, to hasten or control; Oh, speak, and help me listen, Thou Guardian of my soul. O Jesus, Thou hast promised to all who follow Thee That where Thou art in glory there shall Thy servant be; And Jesus, I have promised to serve Thee to the end— Oh, give me grace to follow, my Master and my Friend. Oh, let me see Thy footprints, and in them plant mine own; My hope to follow duly is in Thy strength alone; Oh, guide me, call me, draw me, uphold me to the end; And then in Heav’n receive me, my Savior and my Friend.

In 1975, Newsweek magazine ran a story called, ‘The Cooling World’ and predicted the beginning of dramatic global cooling which might well lead to a drastic decline in food production. They talked about economic and social adjustments on a global scale. (In 2006, over 30 years later, Newsweek published a correction.) The bottom line is that politicians, journalists and experts are forever warning us of terrible things that are about to happen. The invariable rider is that they might well be able to save us from the terrible future which they predict, if we give them vast amounts of money, enormous prestige and a full page profile in the Guardian newspaper.

Our deeds stay with forever. We cannot forget them no matter how hard we try.

I see the shomrim, the community guardians, pull up at the house next door in their armored jackets with the neon logo on the back, stepping off motorized bikes. Three bearded men drag a young black teenager by his hands, and I can see he hangs heavily between them. “That boy can’t be older than fourteen!” says Bubby, looking down at the captured culprit. “For what does he have to steal, so he can be in a gang? Ach, so sad, from so young they are already trouble.” The shomrim members crowd around the quivering boy. I watch them kick him mercilessly until he is sobbing and wailing, “I din’t do nuttin’, I swear! I din’t do nuttin’!” He cries out his one defense, over and over, begging for mercy. The men beat him for what seems like forever. “You think you can come in here and do what you want? Impress your friends? Where are your friends now, huh?” they ask mockingly. “You think you can bring your filthy kind into this neighborhood? Oh no, not here. No, we won’t call the police, but we’ll take care of you like no one else can, you understand?” “Yes, yes, I understand . . .,” the boy wails. “Let me go, please, I din’t do nuttin’!” “If we catch one of you here ever again, we’ll kill you, you hear? We’ll kill you! You tell your little friends that, you tell them never to come near us again or we will rain hell down on their black souls.” They step back, and the young man lifts himself up and flees into the night. The shomrim get back on their bikes, brushing off their shiny jackets. Within fifteen minutes, the street is as silent as death again. I feel sick. Bubby pulls her head back in from the window. “Ah mazel,” she says, “so lucky we are to have our own police force, when the real police can’t catch a nut when it falls from a tree. We have no one to depend on, Devoraleh,” she says, looking at me, “except our own. Don’t forget that.” I chastise myself once again for feeling compassion at the inappropriate time. For the teenager I should not feel pity, because he is the enemy. I should feel bad for poor Mrs. Deutsch, who got the fright of her life and lost all her precious silver heirlooms. I know this, and yet I wipe shameful tears from my cheek. Luckily no one can see them in the dark.

All Praise to Thee, My God, This Night All praise to Thee, my God, this night For all the blessings of the light. Keep me, oh, keep me, King of kings, Beneath Thy own almighty wings. 2. Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son, The ill that I this day have done That with the world, myself and Thee, I, ere I sleep, at peace may be. 3. Teach me to live that I may dread The grave as little as my bed. Teach me to die that so I may Rise glorious at the awe-ful Day. 4. Oh, may my soul on Thee repose, And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close, Sleep that shall me more vigorous make To serve my God when I awake. 5. When in the night I sleepless lie, My soul with heavenly thoughts supply; Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, No powers of darkness me molest. 6. Dull Sleep of Sense me to deprive, I am but half my time alive; Thy faithful Lovers, Lord, are griev'd, To lye so long of Thee bereav'd. 7. But though Sleep o'er my frailty Reigns Let it not hold me long in Chains; And now and then let lose my Heart, Till it an Hallelujah dart. 8. The faster Sleep the Senses binds, The more unfetter'd are our Minds; O may my Soul, from matter free, Thy loveliness unclouded see! 9. O when shall I in endless Day, Forever chase dark Sleep away, And Hymns with the Supernal Choir Incessant Sing and never tyre! 10. O may my Guardian while I sleep Close to my Bed his Vigils keep, His Love Angelical instill, Stop all the Avenues of Ill. 11. May he Celestial Joys rehearse, And thought to thought with me converse Or in my stead all the Night long, Sing to my God a Grateful Song. 12. Praise God, from whom all blessings flow; Praise Him, all creatures here below; Praise Him above, ye heavenly host: Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

The attacks on the Taj and the Oberoi, in which executives and socialites died, had served as a blunt correction. The wealthy now saw that their security could not be requisitioned privately. They were dependent on the same public safety system that ill served the poor. Ten young men had terrorized one of the world’s biggest cities for three days—a fact that had something to do with the ingenuity of a multi-pronged plot, but perhaps also to do with government agencies that had been operating as private market-stalls, not as public guardians. The crisis-response units of the Mumbai Police lacked arms. Officers in the train station didn’t know how to use their weapons, and ran and hid as two terrorists killed more than fifty travelers. Other officers called to rescue inhabitants of a besieged maternity hospital stayed put at police headquarters, four blocks away. Ambulances failed to respond to the wounded. Military commandos took eight hours to reach the heart of the financial capital—a journey that involved an inconveniently parked jet, a stop to refuel, and a long bus ride from the Mumbai airport. By the time the commandos arrived in south Mumbai, the killings were all but over.

Primordya forever!

When are we leaving?” Celeste called from the foot of the stairs, interrupting Bran. I hadn’t realized she’d teleported downstairs. “Five minutes,” Bran responded and, without missing a beat, went back to the passage in Pride and Prejudice he’d been reading. “You said you were doing physics,” Celeste interrupted, moving closer. “Lil wanted to read first and do physics later.” “And you are okay with it? You always insist I do the subjects I hate first.” “You’re my sister, pint. She’s my girlfriend.” He grinned when she glared at him. “He has a beautiful voice,” I added, sitting up. I could listen to him forever, but from Celeste’s annoyed expression, she wasn’t in the mood to hear that. “If you guys need to go…go ahead. I should be getting ready for my session with Master Haziel anyway.” Bran gripped my waist and stopped me from getting up. I had been sitting on the recliner between his legs, with my head on his chest. “We’re not done yet.” He turned his gaze to Celeste. “Be a good little sister and wait upstairs. I’ll be right up.” Celeste crossed her arms and jutted her chin. “No, you won’t. You finish whatever it is you plan to do and we’ll teleport from right…here.” “Celeste,” he snapped, eyes narrowed. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you two make out or anything, or eavesdropped on your thoughts whenever you sketch her or wear a dopey—” “Celeste!

Having lived this long, I feel like there are four things in life you can’t be too persistent about figuring out: the idea of eternity, right or wrong, good and evil, and life and death.” Zhao Yunlan looked up at him as his father continued, “First, persistence can be a virtue, but if you’re inflexible and insist that something must last forever, you’ll fear loss even while you hold that thing in your hands. You won’t be able to see your path clearly. Second, of course you should have a sense of justice, but if you’re consumed by the idea that something must be right or wrong, it’s easy to develop tunnel vision. There aren’t that many absolute rights or absolute wrongs in the world. “Third, while it’s important to repent of your mistakes and strive for goodness, being locked into a dichotomy of good and evil will make you rigid and unforgiving. You’ll become arrogant and expect the world to conform to your perspective, and you’ll always be disappointed. And finally, while life and death are tremendously important, if you live your entire life in terror of death, you’ll never really live at all.

Your protection charm wasn’t a bond of protection like a guardian to their ward. The translation of aevitas ligati means ‘bound forever’ as in holy matrimony. It wasn’t needed for the summoning to be successful.” “Are we… are you saying we’re betrothed?” I waited, heart pounding, but Wrath said nothing. He didn’t need to. The truth was there in his eyes. He’d known all along what I’d done. No wonder he’d looked so horrified that night. I’d basically ripped him from Hell, and forced him into a betrothal. Forever.