Helen Wills Quotes

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God, teach me to be patient, teach me to go slow, Teach me how to wait on You when my way I do not know. Teach me sweet forbearance when things do not go right So I remain unruffled when others grow uptight. Teach me how to quiet my racing, rising heart So I might hear the answer You are trying to impart. Teach me to let go, dear God, and pray undisturbed until My heart is filled with inner peace and I learn to know your will.
Helen Steiner Rice
Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it. My optimism, then, does not rest on the absence of evil, but on a glad belief in the preponderance of good and a willing effort always to cooperate with the good, that it may prevail.
Helen Keller
It might have a slight hallucinatory effect, though." "That explains why I can see seven of you," Magnus said to Alec. "My ultimate fantasy." Dru covered Tavvy's ears, though Tavvy was playing with a Slinky Alec had given him and appeared deaf to the world. Magnus pointed. "That one of you over there is extremely attractive, Alexander." "That's a vase," said Helen. Magnus squinted at it. "I'd be willing to buy it from you.
Cassandra Clare (Queen of Air and Darkness (The Dark Artifices, #3))
The boy's eyes went to him, and a shock passed through Magnus. They were not Will's eyes, the eyes Magnus remembered being as blue as a night sky in Hell, eyes Magnus has seen both despairing and tender. This boy has shining golden eyes, like crystal glass filled brimful with crisp white wine and held up to catch the light of a blazing sun. If his skin was luminous, his eyes were radiant. Magnus could not imagine these eyes as tender. The boy was very, very lovely, but his was a beauty like that of Helen of Troy might have had once, disaster written in every line. The light of his beauty made Magnus think of cities burning.
Cassandra Clare (The Midnight Heir (The Bane Chronicles, #4))
She didn't need to be able to see through his chest to know how much he loved her. He was constantly proving it by how much of her crap he was willing to take.
Josephine Angelini (Goddess (Starcrossed, #3))
He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep, pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of god.
Helen Fisher (Why We Love: The Nature and Chemistry of Romantic Love)
It seems wrong and unfair that Christmas, with its stressful and unmanageable financial and emotional challenges, should first be forced upon one wholly against one's will, then rudely snatched away just when one is starting to get into it. Was really beginning to enjoy the feeling that normal service was suspended and it was OK to lie in bed as long as you want, put anything you fancy into your mouth, and drink alcohol whenever it should chance to pass your way, even in the mornings. Now suddenly we are all supposed to snap into self-discipline like lean teenage greyhounds.
Helen Fielding (Bridget Jones's Diary (Bridget Jones, #1))
Watching, not doing. Seeking safety in not  being seen. It's a habit you can fall into, willing yourself into invisibility. And it doesn't serve you well in life. Believe me it doesn't. Not with people and loves and hearts and homes and work. But for the first few days with a new hawk, making yourself disappear is the greatest skill in the world.
Helen Macdonald (H is for Hawk)
I realized this morning that there’s no one to give me away.” Rhys lowered his face until their foreheads were touching, and he was lost in the moonstone glow of her eyes. “Heart of my heart, you need no man to give you away. Just come to me of your own free will. Love me for who I am . . . just as I love you for who you are . . . and our bond will last until the stars lose their shining.” “I can do that,” Helen whispered.
Lisa Kleypas (Marrying Winterborne (The Ravenels, #2))
Children," Johanna drawled out. "They're such a joy. When you get married and have a family of your own, you'll understand what I'm saying. You are going to get married someday, aren't you, Keith?" "Aye, m'lady," he answered. "Next summer as a matter of fact. Bridgid MacCoy has agreed to become my wife." "Oh." She couldn't quite hide her disappointment. She turned her gaze down the table and settled on Michael as a possibility. He caught her staring at him. He smiled. She nodded. "Children," she began again. "They're wonderful, aren't they, Michael?" "If you say so, m'lady." "Oh, I do say," she replied. "When you get married, you'll understand. You do plan to marry someday, don't you, Michael?" "Eventually," he answered with a shrug. "Have you anyone in mind?" "Are you matchmaking, m'lady?" Keith asked. "Why would you think that?" "I'll marry Helen when I'm ready," Michael interjected. "I've told her I will, and she agreed to wait." Johanna frowned. The possibilities were becoming a bit limited. She turned to Niall. "Children…" she began. "She is matchmaking," Keith announced. It was as though he'd just shouted the alarm that they were under siege. The soldiers literally jumped from their stools. They bowed to Johanna and left the room in the space of a single minute. She didn't even have enough time to order them back into their seats.
Julie Garwood (Saving Grace)
To be a living sacrifice will involve all my time. God wants me to live every minute for Him in accordance with His will and purpose, sixty minutes of every hour, twenty-four hours of every day, being available to Him. No time can be considered as my own, or as "off-duty" or "free." I cannot barter with God about how much time I can give to serve Him. Whatever I am doing, be it a routine salaried job, or housework at home, be it holiday time and free, or after-work Christian youth activities, all should be undertaken for Him, to reveal His indwelling presence to those around me. The example of my life must be as telling as my preaching if He is to be honored.
Helen Roseveare (Living Sacrifice: Willing to be Whittled as an Arrow)
They chanted the psalms and praises, and as always the rhythm fastened itself to his heartbeat. It seemed unfair that the prayers could affect him this way, against his will; that he could scoff at the sentiments, yet find himself mouthing along. He imagined himself at ninety, toothless and doddering, unable to remember anything except for the morning prayers. They were his deepest memories, his first music.
Helene Wecker (The Golem and the Jinni (The Golem and the Jinni, #1))
Trying to write is very much like trying to put a Chinese puzzle together. We have a pattern in mind which we wish to work out in words; but the words will not fit the spaces, or, if they do, they will not match the design. But we keep on trying because we know that others have succeeded, and we are not willing to acknowledge defeat.
Helen Keller (The Story of My Life)
It seems wrong and unfair that Christmas, with its stressful and unmanageable financial and emotional challenges, should first be forced upon one wholly against one’s will, then rudely snatched away just when one is starting to get into it.
Helen Fielding (Bridget Jones's Diary (Bridget Jones, #1))
When would I learn the secret of happy, contented teamwork? Why did I always want to be the last link? If I would love the Lord with all my mind, I had to give Him all that I thought I knew or could do, and be willing for Him to place me anywhere within the team to do any job He chose for me. Only then would I exprience true peace of mind.
Helen Roseveare (Living Sacrifice: Willing to be Whittled as an Arrow)
Mapmaking: We get chances to make things different. But to take them we have to be willing to release old crap, not look back to see if it still needs us or to admit we still need it.
Helen S. Rosenau (The Messy Joys of Being Human: A Guide to Risking Change and Becoming Happier)
Mover of Mountains Faith is a force that is greater than knowledge or power or skill, And the darkest defeat turns to triumph if you trust in God’s wisdom and will, For faith is a mover of mountains— there’s nothing man cannot achieve If he has the courage to try it and then has the faith to believe.
Helen Steiner Rice (The Poems and Prayers of Helen Steiner Rice)
It would seem that God had merely asked me to give Him my mind, my training, the ability that He has given me; to serve Him unquestioningly; and to leave with Him the consequences....How wonderful God is, and how foolish we are to argue with Him and not to trust Him wholly in every situation as we seek to serve Him!
Helen Roseveare (Living Sacrifice: Willing to be Whittled as an Arrow)
To love the Lord my God with all my soul will involve a spiritual cost. I'll have to give Him my heart, and let Him love through it whom and how He wills, even if this seems at times to break my heart. To love the Lord my God with all my soul will involve a volitional and emotional cost. I'll have to give Him my will, my rights to decide and choose, and all my relationships, for Him to guide and control, even when I cannot understand His reasoning. To love the Lord my God with all my mind will involve an intellectual cost. I must give Him my mind, my intelligence, my reasoning powers, and trust Him to work through them, even when He may appear to act in contradiction to common sense. To love the Lord my God with all my strength will involve a physical cost. I must give Him my body to indwell, and through which to speak, whether He chooses health or sickness, by strength or weakness, and trust Him utterly with the outcome.
Helen Roseveare (Living Sacrifice: Willing to be Whittled as an Arrow)
It seems wrong and unfair that Christmas, with its stressful and unmanageable financial and emotional challenges, should first be forced upon one wholly against one's will, then rudely snatched away just when one is starting to get into it.
Helen Fielding (Bridget Jones's Diary (Bridget Jones, #1))
Yamamoto said he thought you had to be able to hear how something did not work as part of a bigger thing to hear how it did and it was precisely because people couldn't hear that that they were willing to let movements be taken out of pieces.
Helen DeWitt (The Last Samurai)
If you think you have come to the mission field because you are a little better than others, or as the cream of your church, or because of your medical degree, or for the service you can render the African church, or even for the souls you may see saved, you will fail. Remember, the Lord has only one purpose ultimately for each one of us, to make us more like Jesus. He is interested in your relationship with Himself. Let Him take you and mould you as He will; all the rest will take its rightful place.
Helen Roseveare (Give Me This Mountain)
I did not want to worship gods as cruel as this—gods cruel enough to rape my mother after she objected to being deceived, or willing to waste the lives of hundreds, perhaps thousands of men in a useless war. I did not want to believe we could not be free.
Amalia Carosella (Helen of Sparta (Helen of Sparta #1))
Mr. Brundy, you are no doubt as well acquainted with my circumstances as I am with yours, so let us not beat about the bush. I have a fondness for the finer things in life, and I suppose I always will. As a result, I am frightfully expensive to maintain. I have already bankrupted my father, and have no doubt I should do the same to you, should you be so foolhardy as to persist in the desire for such a union. Furthermore, I have a shrewish disposition and a sharp tongue. My father, having despaired of seeing me wed to a gentleman of my own class, has ordered me to either accept your suit or seek employment. If I married you, it would be only for your wealth, and only because I find the prospect of marriage to you preferable –but only slightly!- to the life of a governess or a paid companion. If, knowing this, you still wish to marry me, why, you have only to name the day.” Having delivered herself of this speech, Lady Helen waited expectantly for Mr. Brundy’s stammering retraction. Her suitor pondered her words for a long moment, then made his response. “’ow about Thursday?
Sheri Cobb South (The Weaver Takes a Wife (Weaver, #1))
grateful for every single woman who stood here before me. You don’t see me going around asking who the Original 9 are, do you? No, because I know what I owe them. What about Althea Gibson and Alice Marble and Helen Wills? Suzanne Lenglen? Maria Bueno? I know whose shoulders I’m standing on.
Taylor Jenkins Reid (Carrie Soto Is Back)
It might have been preferable," Eddis admitted, dryly, "if you had thrown off your chains of bondage solely for love of me. It would certainly have been more flattering." Standing so near to him, she was looking up into his face and watching it closely. "I am willing to accept, however, that we are real people, not characters in a play. We do not, all of us, need to be throwing inkwells. If we are compatible with one another, is that not sufficient?
Megan Whalen Turner (A Conspiracy of Kings (The Queen's Thief, #4))
She says that she had not heard of you, before you came out of retirement,” he adds. “That’s ridiculous—everyone in tennis has heard of me. Half of the world has heard of me.” I lean away from the microphone, finished speaking. But then I lean back into it. “She can trash-talk however she wants, but let me say this: I’m grateful for every single woman who stood here before me. You don’t see me going around asking who the Original 9 are, do you? No, because I know what I owe them. What about Althea Gibson and Alice Marble and Helen Wills? Suzanne Lenglen? Maria Bueno? I know whose shoulders I’m standing on. If Cortéz doesn’t, that’s on her.
Taylor Jenkins Reid (Carrie Soto Is Back)
This is the problem with time…It doesn't follow its own rules. It stretches or compresses at will. It's either a lingering house guest or an escape artist.
Helen Humphreys (The Evening Chorus)
[W]e keep on trying because we know that others have succeeded, and we are not willing to acknowledge defeat.
Helen Keller (The Story of My Life by Helen Keller "The Unabridged & Annotated Edition")
The truth is always stronger in the end if people stand up and fight for it.
Helen Steele
Maybe that’s another way to talk about “doing God’s will,” a phrase we have always bandied about, sometimes to refer to something we feel we have to do, not necessarily what we would have chosen. But now I’m wondering if it isn’t a matter of becoming more authentic, more attuned to the clear-sighted, natural goodness in every heart that learns to shed the delusions of arrogance and pride. Maybe at the center of it all is the surge of grace that breaks us free of our tight, narcissistic egos. Maybe. Human dynamics are exceedingly complex.
Helen Prejean (River of Fire: On Becoming an Activist)
Helen, what a memory you have for some things! You’re perfectly right. It’s a room that men have spoilt through trying to make it nice for women. Men don’t know what we want— “ “And never will.” “I don’t agree. In two thousand years they’ll know.
E.M. Forster (The Works of E. M. Forster)
I had never deserved to be forgiven in the first place when I aas converted. I could do nothing to merit God's favour, His grace, His love. If all I had ever known was unmerited and undeserved grace, how could I then forfeit that which I never earned?... Was I too proud, in some strange, inverted way to humble myself to accept an unmerited forgiveness? I know that it was all of grace, yet my inner being wanted the right to do something to merit it. I was trying to work out my own salvation, to earn God's forgiveness, to prove the sincerity of my repentance...At last I knew that it was true. It was not based on my feeling or on my emotions. It was not dependent on my faith or my obedience. In no way could I merit or deserve it. He loved me. He knew me through and through, better than I knew myself, and yet still, He loved me. Christ died on Calvary to tell me that. Christ lives in Heaven, an unceasing intercessor on my behalf to make that love real to me in my experience.
Helen Roseveare (Living Sacrifice: Willing to be Whittled as an Arrow)
Could I see that God wanted to transform my life from a somewhat ugly, useless branch to an arrow, a tool usable in His hands, for the furtherance of His purposes?....To be thus transformed, was I willing - am I till willing - for the whittling, sandpapering, stripping, processes necessary in my Christian life? The ruthless pulling off of leaves and flowers might include doing without a television set or washing machine, remaining single in order to see a job done, re-evaluating the worthiness of the ambition to be a "good" doctor (according to my terms an values). The snapping of thorns might include drastic dealing with hidden jealousies and unknown prides, giving up prized rights in leadership and administration. The final stripping of the bark might include lessons to be learned regarding death to self - self-defence,self-pity, self-justification, self-vinidication, self-sufficiency, all the mechanisms of preventing the hurt of too deep involvment. Am I prepared for the pain, which may at times seem like sacrifice, in order to be made a tool in His service? My willingness will be a measure of the sincerity of my desire to express my heartfelt gratitude to Him for his so-great salvation. Can I see such minor "sacrifices" in light of the great sacrifice of Calvary, where Christ gave all for me?
Helen Roseveare (Living Sacrifice: Willing to be Whittled as an Arrow)
Can't believe you're making me say this am willing to fill any role required by you i.e. buddy best buddy laborer unpaid driver unpaid gardener unpaid father of your children coat etc just tell me which and how we'll manage come home will square things with your Pa - Charlie
Helen Oyeyemi
We got lots of secrets, Will. You Apollo guys can't have all the fun. Our campers have been excavating the tunnel system under Cabin Nine for almost a century. We still haven't found the end. Anyway, Leo, if you don't mind sleeping in a dead man's bed, it's yours-Jake Suddenly Leo didn't feel like kicking back. He sat up, careful not to touch any of the buttons. The counselor who died-this was his bed-Leo Yeah. Charles Beckendorf-Jake Leo imagined saw blades coming through the mattress, or maybe a grenade sewn inside the pillows. He didn't, like, die IN this bed, did he-Leo No. In the Titan War, last summer-Jake The Titan War, which has NOTHING to do with this very fine bed-Leo "The Titans," Will said, like Leo was an idiot. The big powerful guys that ruled the world before the gods. They tried to make a comeback last summer. Their leader, Kronos, built a new palace on top of Mount Tam in California. Their armies came to New York and almost destoyed Mount Olympus. A lot of demigods died trying to stop them-Will I'm guessing this wasn't on the news-Leo It seemed like a fair question, but Will shook his head in disbelief. You didn't hear about Mount St. Helens erupting, or the freak storms across the country, or that building collapsing in St Louis-Will Leo shrugged. Last summer, he'd been on the run from another foster home. Then a truancy officer caught him in New Mexico, and the court sentenced him to the nearest correction facility-the Wilderness School. Guess I was busy-Leo Doesn't matter. You were lucky to miss it. The thing is, Beckendorf was one of the first casualties, and ever since then-Jake Your cabin's been cursed-Leo
Rick Riordan (The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus, #1))
Mephistopheles' contentious, often ambiguous relationship to Faustus is a reference to tantra just as it is to alchemy. It resembles the shifting tactics of a guru who varies his approach to his pupil in order to dissolve his resistances and prepare him for wider states of consciousness. Both Faustus and the tantric aspirant stimulate and indulge their senses under the guidance of their teachers who encourage them to have sexual encounters with women in their dreams. Both work with magical diagrams or yantras, exhibit extraordinary will, "fly" on visionary journeys, acquire powers of teleportation, invisibility, prophecy, and healing, and have ritual intercourse with women whom they visualize as goddesses. The tantrist [sic] is said to become omniscient as a result of his sacred "marriage," and Faustus produces an omniscient child in his union with the visualized Helen, or Sophia.
Ramona Fradon (The Gnostic Faustus)
No; I know I should think well of myself; but that is not enough: if others don't love me I would rather die than live — I cannot bear to be solitary and hated, Helen. Look here; to gain some real affection from you, or Miss Temple, or any other whom I truly love, I would willingly submit to have the bone of my arm broken, or to let a bull toss me, or to stand behind a kicking horse, and let it dash its hoof at my chest — " "Hush, Jane! you think too much of the love of human beings; you are too impulsive, too vehement; the sovereign hand that created your frame, and put life into it, has provided you with other resources than your feeble self, or than creatures feeble as you. Besides this earth, and besides the race of men, there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits: that world is round us, for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch us, for they are commissioned to guard us; and if we were dying in pain and shame, if scorn smote us on all sides, and hatred crushed us, angels see our tortures, recognise our innocence (if innocent we be: as I know you are of this charge which Mr. Brocklehurst has weakly and pompously repeated at second-hand from Mrs. Reed; for I read a sincere nature in your ardent eyes and on your clear front), and God waits only the separation of spirit from flesh to crown us with a full reward. Why, then, should we ever sink overwhelmed with distress, when life is so soon over, and death is so certain an entrance to happiness — to glory?
Charlotte Brontë (Jane Eyre)
I suppose there must be idiots who dream of signing deals with publishers while fully intending to drink martinis in cool bars or ride around on skateboards. But the actual writers I know are experts in neurotic self-torture. Every page of writing is the result of a thousand tiny decisions and desperate acts of will.
Helen Garner
He hasn’t proposed to Helen yet,” she said evenly. “He will,” Pandora said confidently. “He’s come to dinner at least three times, and accompanied us to a concert, and let us all sit in his private box. Obviously the courtship is going very well.” Pausing, she added with a touch of sheepishness, “For the rest of the family, at least.
Lisa Kleypas (Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels, #1))
Were you and Helen Park dating? She roped you in—a kid from the wrong side of the tracks, a kid willing to go the distance for his richy-rich girlfriend—and you got in too deep? Is that what happened? Is Helen Park the one you passed the note to, to meet you upstairs? Or was that for Rebecca, so you and Helen could attack her and, oh gosh,
Liz Lawson (The Night In Question)
Together we learned why God has given us His name as "I AM" (Exodus 3:14). His grace always proved itself sufficient in the moment of need, but never before the necessary time, and rarely afterwards. As I anticipated suffering in my imagination and thought of what these cruel soldiers would do next, I quivered with fear. I broke out in a cold sweat of horror. As I heard them drive into our village, day or night, my mouth would go dry: my heart would miss a beat. Fear gripped me in an awful vice. But when the moment came for action, He gave me a quiet, cool exterior that He used to give others courage too: He filled me with a peace and an assurance about what to say or do that amazed me and often defeated the immediate tactics of the enemy.
Helen Roseveare (Living Sacrifice: Willing to be Whittled as an Arrow)
I had never deserved to be forgiven in the first place when I Was converted. I could do nothing to merit God's favour, His grace, His love. If all I had ever known was unmerited and undeserved grace, how could I then forfeit that which I never earned?... Was I too proud, in some strange, inverted way to humble myself to accept an unmerited forgiveness? I know that it was all of grace, yet my inner being wanted to right to do something to merit it. I was trying to work out my own salvation, to earn God's forgiveness, to prove the sincerity of my repentance...At last I knew that it was true. It was not based on my feeling or on my emotions. It was no dependent on my faith or my obedience. In no way could I merit or deserve it. He loved me. He knew me through and through, better than I knew myself, and yet still, He loved me. Christ died on Calvary to tell me that. Christ lives in Heaven, an unceasing intercessor on my behalf to make that love real to me in my experience.
Helen Roseveare (Living Sacrifice: Willing to be Whittled as an Arrow)
The brain scans and mood swings of an infatuated lover, scientists have recently discovered, look remarkably similar to the brain scans and mood swings of a cocaine addict— and not surprisingly, as it turns out, because infatuation is an addiction, with measurable chemical effects on the brain. As the anthropologist and infatuation expert Dr. Helen Fisher has explained, infatuated lovers, just like any junkie, “will go to unhealthy, humiliating, and even physically dangerous lengths to procure their narcotic.
Elizabeth Gilbert (Committed: A Sceptic Makes Peace With Marriage)
Helen slipped her fingers into the top of his breeks and pulled on the cord holding them up. An infant's cry squealed from inside the cottage. Eoin touched his forehead to hers and chuckled. "It appears we timed things a bit late." Helen took in a ragged breath. "Will you remember where we are until we're alone this eve?" He nuzzled against her ear. "I'll be thinking of it every moment until then." Maggie's cries rose until they bordered on panic stricken. Helen gave him one last kiss. "Then I shall hold you to it.
Amy Jarecki (Highland Knight of Rapture (Highland Dynasty, #4))
Will: Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you never met your wife? Sean: What? Do I wonder if I'd be better off if I never met my wife? No, that's okay. It's an important question. 'Cause you'll have your bad times, which wake you up to the good stuff you weren't paying attention to. And you can fail, as long as you're trying hard. But there's nothing worse than regret. Will: You don't regret meetin' your wife? Sean: Why? Because of the pain I feel now? I have regrets Will, but I don't regret a single day I spent with her. Will: When did you know she was the one? Sean: October 21, 1975. Game six of the World Series. Biggest game in Red Sox history. Me and my friends slept out on the sidewalk all night to get tickets. We were sitting in a bar waiting for the game to start and in walks this girl. What a game that was. Tie game in the bottom of the tenth inning, in steps Carlton Fisk, hit a long fly ball down the left field line. Thirty-five thousand fans on their feet, screamin' at the ball to stay fair. Fisk is runnin' up the baseline, wavin' at the ball like a madman. It hits the foul pole, home run. Thirty-five thousand people went crazy. And I wasn't one of them. Will: Where were you? Sean: I was havin' a drink with my future wife. Will: You missed Pudge Fisk's home run to have a drink with a woman you had never met? Sean: That's right. Will: So wait a minute. The Red Sox haven't won a World Series since nineteen eighteen, you slept out for tickets, games gonna start in twenty minutes, in walks a girl you never seen before, and you give your ticket away? Sean: You should have seen this girl. She lit up the room. Will: I don't care if Helen of Troy walked into that bar! That's game six of the World Series! And what kind of friends are these? They let you get away with that? Sean: I just slid my ticket across the table and said "sorry fellas, I gotta go see about a girl." Will: "I gotta go see about a girl"? What did they say? Sean: They could see that I meant it. Will: You're kiddin' me. Sean: No Will, I'm not kiddin' you. If I had gone to see that game I'd be in here talkin' about a girl I saw at a bar twenty years ago. And how I always regretted not goin' over there and talkin' to her. I don't regret the eighteen years we were married. I don't regret givin' up counseling for six years when she got sick. I don't regret being by her side for the last two years when things got real bad. And I sure as Hell don't regret missing that damn game. Will: Would have been nice to catch that game though. Sean: Well hell, I didn't know Pudge was gonna hit the home run.
Matt Damon (Good Will Hunting)
Lively as kittens,” West said as he and Devon walked to the library. “They’re quite wasted out here in the country. I’ll confess, I never knew that the company of innocent girls could be so amusing.” “What if they were to take part in the London season?” Devon asked. It was one of approximately a thousand questions buzzing in his mind. “How would you rate their prospects?” West looked bemused. “At catching husbands? Nonexistent.” “Even Lady Helen?” “Lady Helen is an angel. Lovely, quiet, accomplished…she should have her pick of suitors. But the men who would be appropriate for her will never come up to scratch. Nowadays no one can afford a girl who lacks a dowry.” “There are men who could afford her,” Devon said absently. “Who?” “Some of the fellows we’re acquainted with…Severin, or Winterborne…” “If they’re friends of ours, I wouldn’t pair Lady Helen with one of them. She was bred to marry a cultivated man of leisure, not a barbarian.” “I would hardly call a department store owner a barbarian.” “Rhys Winterborne is vulgar, ruthless, willing to compromise any principle for personal gain…qualities I admire, of course…but he would never do for Lady Helen. They would make each other exceedingly unhappy.” “Of course they would. It’s marriage.
Lisa Kleypas (Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels, #1))
We got lots of secrets, Will. You Apollo guys can't have all the fun. Our campers have been excavating the tunnel system under Cabin Nine for almost a century. We still haven't found the end. Anyway, Leo, if you don't mind sleeping in a dead man's bed, it's yours-Jake Suddenly Leo didn't feel like kicking back. He sat u, careful not to touch any of the buttons. The counselor who died-this was his bed-Leo Yeah. Charles Beckendorf-Jake Leo imagined saw blades coming through the mattress, or maybe a grenade sewn inside the pillows. He didn't, like, die IN this bed, did he-Leo No. In the Titan War, last summer-Jake The Titan War, which has NOTHING to do with this very fine bed-Leo "The Titans," Will said, like Leo was an idiot. The big powerful guys that ruled the world before the gods. They tried to make a comeback last summer. Their leader, Kronos, built a new palace on top of Mount Tam in California. Their armies came to New York and almost destoyed Mount Olympus. A lot of demigods died trying to stop them-Will I'm guessing this wasn't on the news-Leo It seemed like a fair question, but Will shook his head in disbelief. You didn't hear about Mount St. Helens erupting, or the freak storms across the country, or that building collapsing in St Louis-Will Leo shrugged. Last summer, he'd been on the run from another foster home. Then a truancy officer caught him in New Mexico, and the court sentenced him to the nearest correction facility-the Wilderness School. Guess I was busy-Leo Doesn't matter. You were lucky to miss it. The thing is, Beckendorf was one of the first casualties, and ever since then-Jake Your cabin's been cursed-Leo
Rick Riordan (The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus, #1))
For decades afterwards, I punished myself with images of Sofia standing naked in the snow, shivering, clutching a chunk of cement that a guard had told her was soap, in the worst winter Poland has ever known. But as I stared at the empty train tracks and thought of the stationmaster making the schoolyard slash across his throat, I had no idea what he was talking about. I could not have conjured up the kind of man who would be willing to design an oven that would be economically fueled by the fat of the men, women and children it was burning. I would not have believed that these same engineers would find other men willing to carry out their monstrous plans. I, too, would have dismissed it as propaganda, that one kind of human being could industriously collect and kill six million of another kind of human being. Somewhere along the line, there would have to be someone who said no. Forgive me, Sofia. Forgive me, Isaiah. I did not know.
Helen Maryles Shankman (The Color of Light)
Are you sure you won’t be too bored here, waiting for us to come back? We don’t know how long our time with the Pythia will last; I hope you’ll find something to do.” “Of course I will,” I told him. “I’ll be exploring Delphi.” “No you won’t,” my brothers responded in perfect unison. Then they took turns telling me exactly why I couldn’t do what I wanted. “You wouldn’t be safe,” Castor said. “You’d get lost if you went wandering around the city on your own,” Polydeuces added. “It’s too big.” “Too noisy.” “Too confusing.” “Too busy.” “You could run into the wrong sort of people.” “Dangerous types.” “But sneaky enough so you couldn’t tell they’re dangerous until it’s too late.” “We’re responsible for your safety.” “We have to know where you are at all times.” “It’s not that we don’t trust you, Helen.” “It’s them.” “It’s for your own good.” I flopped down on my bed. “Fine. Go. I’ll stay here,” I told the ceiling. Castor and Polydeuces each grabbed one of my wrists and pulled me back to my feet. “I don’t think so,” Castor said, chuckling. “You’d stay here, all right. You’d stay here just until you saw us go into Apollo’s temple, and then you’d be a little cloud of dust sailing out through the gates.” “You don’t have to come with us,” Polydeuces said. “But if you want to tour this city, you’ll have to do it on our terms.” With that, he left me in Castor’s company. “Where’s he going?” I asked. “Probably to see if the priests of Apollo have an oil jar big enough to stuff you inside for safekeeping.” He winked at me. No matter how much I loved my brothers, I wasn’t in the mood for more teasing. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll insult the Pythia if you don’t go to see her right now? You were summoned. She could foretell terrible fates for the two of you if you keep her waiting.” Castor didn’t seem worried. “If she’s truly blessed with the gift of prophecy, she already knows we’re going to be delayed. And if she can’t foretell that, she’s as much of an oracle as I am, so why should I care what she predicts?” He laughed out loud, then added, “But don’t tell Polydeuces I said that. He’s the devout one.
Esther M. Friesner (Nobody's Princess (Nobody's Princess, #1))
How is his temperature?” “He needs to go up one more degree.” “The devil I do,” West said. “With that fire stoked so high, the room is an oven. Soon I’ll be as brown as a Christmas goose. Speaking of that… I’m famished.” “The doctor said we can’t feed you until you’ve reached the right temperature,” Pandora said. “Will you take another cup of tea?” Cassandra asked. “I’ll have a brandy,” West retorted, “along with a wedge of currant pie, a plate of cheese, a bowl of potato and turnip mash, and a beefsteak.” Cassandra smiled. “I’ll ask the doctor if you may have some broth.” “Broth?” he repeated indignantly. “Come along, Hamlet,” Pandora said, “before West decides he wants bacon as well.” “Wait,” Kathleen said, frowning. “Isn’t Hamlet supposed to be in the cellars?” “Cook wouldn’t allow it,” Cassandra said. “She said he would find a way to knock over the bins and eat all the root vegetables.” She cast a proud glance at the cheerful-looking creature. “Because he is a very creative and enterprising pig.” “Cook didn’t say that last part,” Pandora said. “No,” Cassandra admitted, “but it was implied.” The twins cleared the dogs and pig from the room and left. Helen extended the thermometer to West. “Under your tongue, please,” she said gravely. He complied with a long-suffering expression.
Lisa Kleypas (Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels, #1))
If we focus on the meat, this contrast is, financial death and warrior death, a split which Oswald Spengler calls 'hunger death' and 'hero death'. The hungry human, in a 9 to 5 existence is threatened, dishonored, and debased by financial worry and the fear of mental starving, which stunts possibilities, chokes consciousness, produces darkness and pressure not less than starvation in the literal sense. You can lose your whole life-will through the gaping wretchedness of living in the modern world of debt and work. The tragedy is that in the modern world, you die of something (starvation, disease, boredom) and not for something (death by action). In waring and fighting, you sacrifice for higher policies, you can die for something higher, you full for a metaphysics, a mode of consciousness higher than your meat body. On the other hand, economic life merely waste you away. Spengler writes, 'War is the creature, hunger the destroyer, of all things'. In war life is elevated by death, often to the point of irresistible force whose mere existence guarantees victory. But in the economic life hunger awakens the ugly, the vulgar, and wholly un-metaphysical form of fearfulness for one's life under which the higher form of being a human miserably collapses and the naked struggle for survival of the human beast begins. By the warrior, Evola isn't writing about what Henry Kissinger called 'dumb, stupid animals to be used as pawns in foreign policy'. Evola's metaphysical fighter need no longer be a Viking or a Helene, like king Ragnar or Achilles. That world has vanished. The modern soldier has no metaphysics. Evola writes about the struggle within. It is within where the struggle for essence takes place.
Moesy Pittounikos
Favorite painting...?" "Painting? Odalisque," I said. "Really.His non-nude nude. Interesting." It was,to me. Edward's most famous painting of Diana is Troie, where he painted her as Helen of Troy: naked except for the diamond bracelet and the occasional tendril of auburn hair. It had caused quite a stir at its exhibition. Apparently, Millicent Carnegie Biddle fainted on seeing it. It wasn't quite what she was used to viewing when she sat across from Mrs. Edward Willing every few weeks, sipping tea from Wedgewood china cups. Odalisque was more daring in its way, and infinitely more interesting to me. Most of the Post-Impressionist painters did an odalisque, or harem girl, reclining on a sofa or carpet, promising with their eyes that whatever it was that they did to men, they did it well. An odalisque was almost compulsory material.But unlike any of them,Edward had painted his subject-Diana-covered from neck to ankle in shimmery gauze.Covered,but still the ultimate object of desire. "Why that one?" Dr. Rothaus asked. "I don't know-" "Oh,please.Don't go all stupid teenager on me now.You know exactly why you like the painting.Humor me and articulate it." I felt myself beginning the ubiquitos shoulder dip. "Okay. Everyone is covering up something. I guess I think there's an interesting question there." "'What are they hiding?'" I shook my head. "'Does it make a difference?'" "Ah." One sharp corner of her mouth lifted. I would hesitate to call it a smile. "That is interesting.But your favorite Willing piece isn't a painting." "How-" "You hesitated when I asked. Let me guess...Ravaged Man?" "How-" "You're a young woman. And-" Dr. Rothaus levered herself off the desk-"you went through the 1899 file. I know the archive.
Melissa Jensen (The Fine Art of Truth or Dare)
See especially academia, which has effectively become a hope labor industrial complex. Within that system, tenured professors—ostensibly proof positive that you can, indeed, think about your subject of choice for the rest of your life, complete with job security, if you just work hard enough—encourage their most motivated students to apply for grad school. The grad schools depend on money from full-pay students and/or cheap labor from those students, so they accept far more master’s students than there are spots in PhD programs, and far more PhD students than there are tenure-track positions. Through it all, grad students are told that work will, in essence, save them: If they publish more, if they go to more conferences to present their work, if they get a book contract before graduating, their chances on the job market will go up. For a very limited few, this proves true. But it is no guarantee—and with ever-diminished funding for public universities, many students take on the costs of conference travel themselves (often through student loans), scrambling to make ends meet over the summer while they apply for the already-scarce number of academic jobs available, many of them in remote locations, with little promise of long-term stability. Some academics exhaust their hope labor supply during grad school. For others, it takes years on the market, often while adjuncting for little pay in demeaning and demanding work conditions, before the dream starts to splinter. But the system itself is set up to feed itself as long as possible. Most humanities PhD programs still offer little or nothing in terms of training for jobs outside of academia, creating a sort of mandatory tunnel from grad school to tenure-track aspirant. In the humanities, especially, to obtain a PhD—to become a doctor in your field of knowledge—is to adopt the refrain “I don’t have any marketable skills.” Many academics have no choice but to keep teaching—the only thing they feel equipped to do—even without fair pay or job security. Academic institutions are incentivized to keep adjuncts “doing what they love”—but there’s additional pressure from peers and mentors who’ve become deeply invested in the continued viability of the institution. Many senior academics with little experience of the realities of the contemporary market explicitly and implicitly advise their students that the only good job is a tenure-track academic job. When I failed to get an academic job in 2011, I felt soft but unsubtle dismay from various professors upon telling them that I had chosen to take a high school teaching job to make ends meet. It
Anne Helen Petersen (Can't Even: How Millennials Became the Burnout Generation)
Burbank's power of love, reported Hall, "greater than any other, was a subtle kind of nourishment that made everything grow better and bear fruit more abundantly. Burbank explained to me that in all his experimentation he took plants into his confidence, asked them to help, and assured them that he held their small lives in deepest regard and affection." Helen Keller, deaf and blind, after a visit to Burbank, wrote in Out­ look for the Blind: "He has the rarest of gifts, the receptive spirit of a child. When plants talk to him, he listens. Only a wise child can understand the language of flowers and trees." Her observation was particularly apt since all his life Burbank loved children. In his essay "Training of the Human Plant," later published as a book, he an­ticipated the more humane attitudes of a later day and shocked authori­tarian parents by saying, "It is more important for a child to have a good nervous system than to try to 'force' it along the line of book knowledge at the expense of its spontaneity, its play. A child should learn through a medium of pleasure, not of pain. Most of the things that are really useful in later life come to the children through play and through association with nature." Burbank, like other geniuses, realized that his successes came from having conserved the exuberance of a small boy and his wonder for everything around him. He told one of his biographers: 'Tm almost seventy-seven, and I can still go over a gate or run a foot race or kick the chandelier. That's because my body is no older than my mind-and my mind is adolescent. It has never grown up and I hope it never will." It was this quality which so puzzled the dour scientists who looked askance at his power of creation and bedeviled audiences who expected him to be explicit as to how he produced so many horticultural wonders. Most of them were as disappointed as the members of the American Pomological Society, gathered to hear Burbank tell "all" during a lecture entitled "How to Produce New Fruits and Flowers," who sat agape as they heard him say: In pursuing the study of any of the universal and everlasting laws of nature, whether relating to the life, growth, structure and movements of a giant planet, the tiniest plant or of the psychological movements of the human brain, some conditions are necessary before we can become one of nature's interpreters or the creator of any valuable work for the world. Preconceived notions, dogmas and all personal prejudice and bias must be laid aside. Listen patiently, quietly and reverently to the lessons, one by one, which Mother Nature has to teach, shedding light on that which was before a mystery, so that all who will, may see and know. She conveys her truths only to those who are passive and receptive. Accepting these truths as suggested, wherever they may lead, then we have the whole universe in harmony with us. At last man has found a solid foundation for science, having discovered that he is part of a universe which is eternally unstable in form, eternally immutable in substance.
Peter Tompkins (The Secret Life of Plants: A Fascinating Account of the Physical, Emotional and Spiritual Relations Between Plants and Man)
Politics in the 1930s was not a “personal option”, not something they could take or leave, be or not be. It was a molten flow engulfing the world to remake it, taking possession of personal lives, whether their owners willed it or not,
Helen Graham (The War and Its Shadow: Spain's Civil War in Europe's Long Twentieth Century (The Canada Blanch / Sussex Academic Studies on Contemporary Spain))
When you have become willing to hide nothing, you will not only be willing to enter into communion but will also understand peace and joy.
Helen Schucman
Dear Helen: If you’re reading this, it means we’re no longer with you, and for that I am deeply sorry. But we are on loan in this beautiful world and everyone’s time here must come to an end as does ours. Helen Rose Dorcell, those are the three most beautiful words we have ever heard. You were the most wonderful gift we could have received from the heavens. From the first day we saw you with those mysterious green eyes and those impossible black curls, we fell in love. You are growing into a unique and wonderful woman, with your goals and your ideals firmly in place. Never let anyone take that away from you. Never let anyone tell you, you can’t do what your heart desires. I know it will be tough without us by your side, but we have faith in you. Of course, you will need a little push. There’s money hidden in a coffee-bean can underneath the ground where your mother had planted a certain flower the day you were born. You know which one. Use the money wisely, as we know you will. There’s enough to get you started and from there on, well, you can do whatever it is you need to do. Sell the farm. We both know it’s not where your happiness lies. Follow your heart, always. If you ever feel lost and alone, close your eyes and think of us. We’ll be there. We love you with all our heart. Be brave and be yourself. Your
Marisa Bermudez (Blurred Memories)
this means that you can hold whatever moral beliefs you want and require people to follow them (within legal bounds) within a voluntary community, whose members adopt those beliefs as matters of private conscience, but you cannot enforce them on outsiders. Believe what you will, but, in exchange, you must allow others to believe what they will—or won’t, as the case may be.
Helen Pluckrose (Cynical Theories: How Activist Scholarship Made Everything about Race, Gender, and Identity—and Why This Harms Everybody)
Treatment for malignancies had become only a little better than the tortures of a CIA black site. Chemotherapy, unbearable nausea, surgery, disfigurement. His heart went out to Helen, who, being brave and loyal, would have to put up with all of this. He wanted to encourage her to treat him like a Spartan elder and drop him on a mountainside. Yet perhaps the worst part of all was facing the fact that he was not courageous enough to do that willingly. Like most humans, he would struggle to go on, beg for his life as it were.
Scott Turow (The Last Trial (Kindle County Legal Thriller, #11))
Behind the mask beats a loving heart, willing to save others.
Helene Munson (Seven Voices: (volume 2 ))
If you wonder why you have difficulty in communicating with me, I ask you to please listen very carefully to these remarks: 4 If you ask me for guidance, you have signified your willingness to give over your own control, at least to some extent. 2Your frequent failure to ask at all indicates that at such times you are not willing to go even that far. 3Failure to ask for guidance is a sign of fear. 4But when you at least ask, you are acting on a cooperative thought, even though it may not lack ambivalence. 5You are therefore entitled to a specific answer, but unless you follow it without judging it, you will become defensive about the next steps which you will take. 5 You should be confident that any guidance which comes from me will not jeopardize anyone. 2If you can continue not to evaluate my messages and merely follow them, they will lead to good for everyone. 3Since this is the same area of difficulty which may be causing you trouble with meditation, practice in this is essential. 6 I do not yet know what decisions those who are involved in what is happening today will make,101 but I assure you with a confidence I urge you to share that whatever they may be can be utilized for good if you will let them be. 2Why not unburden yourself of the kind of
Helen Schucman (A Course in Miracles: Based on the Original Handwritten Notes of Helen Schucman—Complete & Annotated Edition)
Helen stayed on that wood floor, her knees curled toward her chest, as though she could hold herself together that way when everything inside felt like it was exploding. How she hated these episodes. The first time one had happened to her so many years ago, she had thought it was a heart attack, but now she knew all too well the sensation of her organs rebelling. It forced her body to shake furiously against her will. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks, and she couldn’t seem to produce a single positive thought to counter her panic. That was my only chance! What am I going to do? What am I going to do!? How long she lay there, she did not know. When Helen finally came back to her senses enough to notice the world around her, she saw that the light through the window had shifted to a sunset glow. Breathe. Just breathe, she commanded herself. It was then that her gaze caught on a rectangle of cream paper stuck under the kitchen drawers. How had she missed it? She knew she had swept thoroughly.
Corinne Beenfield (The Ocean's Daughter : (National Indie Excellence Award Finalist))
In each of these examples, note that it is the social system and its inherent power dynamics that are seen as the causes of oppression, not necessarily willful individual agents. Thus, a society, social system, or institution can be seen as in some way oppressive without any individual involved with it needing to be shown to hold even a single oppressive view.
Helen Pluckrose (Cynical Theories: How Activist Scholarship Made Everything about Race, Gender, and Identity—and Why This Harms Everybody)
You just said you love them, Susannah,” Helen said finally. “So you must ask yourself: what are you willing to do for them?
Luanne Rice (Light of the Moon)
She'd thought this was a guarantee. She'd thought it was safety. She'd clipped her own wings and settled down as deep as she could get with the assurance that it was security. She'd willingly traded herself for this life. Now it was all teetering on an abyss.
Victoria Helen Stone (Evelyn, After)
Are you trying to make me jealous, my pretty bird?” Theseus asked, teasing. He took one of the filled wine goblets from the cupbearer attending him and tried to give it to me. I turned my shoulder to him deliberately. “You can’t seem to take your eyes off Telys. What will it take to make you spare just one of those sweet glances for me? Shall I step onto the training ground myself?” “Only if you’ll let me be the one to fight you, sword against sword,” I replied. “I’m willing to stake my freedom on the match.” His lips twisted into a mocking smile. “And risk damaging that face? In four days’ time, we’ll be married. I intend to have a queen whose beauty makes me the envy of all.” He tried to stroke my cheek. I jerked my head back. “Don’t worry, Theseus,” I said. “If we fight, I won’t be the one who’ll take away a scar. But if you’re afraid, name one of your men to match swords with me.” I swept the training ground with my eyes and in a loud, carrying voice added: “Or are all the men of Athens scared to fight a Spartan girl?” A grumbling ran through the ranks of the assembled guardsmen. My barb hit the target and sunk in deep. Theseus didn’t like the way things were going. He tried to pull the fangs from my challenge by turning it into a joke. “Ha! I know what you’re after, Helen. You’re hoping I’ll say yes to this mad proposal of yours, then you’ll find some sly, womanly way to fix it so that you fight Telys. There’s an easy win for anyone!” I looked into his leering face and decided I’d seen enough of the cold malice everyone in the palace inflicted on Telys. The soldiers, the servants, and even the slaves were all a yapping pack of hounds following the lead of Theseus, the nastiest cur of them all. I leaped to my feet and shouted, “You worm! If you’re too scared to fight me yourself, then say so!
Esther M. Friesner (Nobody's Prize (Nobody's Princess, #2))
Father, we do not know the way to You. But we have called, and You have answered us. We will not interfere. Salvation’s ways are not our own, for they belong to You. And it is unto You we look for them. Our hands are open to receive Your gifts. We have no thoughts we think apart from You and cherish no beliefs of what we are or who created us. Yours is the way that we would find and follow. And we ask but that Your Will, which is our own as well, be done in us and in the world, that it becomes a part of Heaven now. Amen.   Lesson
Helen Schucman (A Course in Miracles: Workbook for Students/Manual for Teachers)
MY DEAREST SARAH, "I would give anything for a good hour's talk with you. You have not told me half enough about Mr. Wentworth, and that walk to the Mill, and your fit of dignity about the music book. It is so interesting, and quite as amusing as one of Miss Austen's novels; and this is all true, and your happiness is concerned in it; so you may guess how I pore over your letters. If he does not propose soon, I shall think he is behaving very ill, and shall hate him; but I know he will. We go on very happily here; at least, I hope dear Helen is happy; but I do not feel quite sure.
Emily Eden (The Semi-Detached House)
head. “You will not tell?” She shook her head again. “But how else can we believe you? You mean you are willing to be shot as a spy rather than give his name?” “Would his name
Helen MacInnes (While Still We Live)
The combat during the war was only a part of the horror. When soldiers came home, they were faced with new challenges, new fights to be won. When the anti-war public sentiment was strong, as it was during the Vietnam war, our brave soldiers came home to expressions of disdain and revulsion instead of the respect and honor they deserved. But perhaps the ultimate betrayal for veterans, who willingly risked their lives when their government asked, was making them fight to prove their sicknesses and disabilities were caused by the war in order to receive the free medical treatment they needed, or to be compensated. These were the worst indignities of war.
Helen Picca (The Last Frontier of the Fading West)
We could do what we want, Noah. This doesn’t have to change anything. No one has to know.” The words tripped from her without will. She could hardly believe they were hers.
Victoria Helen Stone (Evelyn, After)
What drives society forward is having a strong backbone of people willing to do the jobs that their leaders don’t want to dirty their hands with.
Helen Harper (Slouch Witch (The Lazy Girl's Guide To Magic, #1))
He had the narrow face and long-legged, hipless figure that Victorian novelists called 'aristocratic'. Basil had seen the same leanness to often in the families of farmers and factory workers to believe that the human bone structure can be altered in a few generations by property and leisure.
Helen McCloy (Through a Glass, Darkly (Dr. Basil Willing #8))
When he straightened from dressing, he saw that she was watching him. "Will you come again?" she asked. "Do you want me to?" "Yes", she said. "Then I will," he said, turning to leave; and he did not know if either or both of them were lying.
Helene Wecker (The Golem and the Jinni (The Golem and the Jinni, #1))
Finally, Millard says, summing it all up, race, poverty, and geography determine who gets the death penalty - if the victim is white, if the defendant is poor, and whether or not the local D.A. is willing to plea-bargain.
Helen Prejean
5Children are miracles in their own right. 6They already have the gift of life, and their parents provide them with the opportunity to express it. 5 Nothing physical, mental, or spiritual should be used selfishly. 2The pleasure from using anything should come from utilizing it for God’s will.
Helen Schucman (A Course in Miracles: Based on the Original Handwritten Notes of Helen Schucman—Complete & Annotated Edition)
They fell silent. The hansom crept along, finally reaching the southern edge of the park. They cut west, and the air grew heavy with the exhalations of the trees beyond the wall. At last he asked, “Will Micheal be all right without you?” He’d tried, and failed, not to tense at the name. “Michael will be better off for my leaving. I hope he can forgive me someday.” She glanced across at him. “I haven’t told you why I married him.” “Maybe I don’t want to know,” he muttered. “I did it because you’d taken the paper from my locket. I couldn’t destroy myself. I had to live in the world, and I was terrified. So I hid behind Michael. I tried to turn him into my master. I honestly thought it would be better that way.” The self-recrimination in her voice was painful to hear. “You were frightened,” he said. “Yes, and in my fear I made the weakest, most selfish mistake of my existence. So how can you possibly trust me to carry your life in my hands?” “I trust you above all others,” he told her. “Above myself.” She shook her head, but then leaned into him, as though taking shelter. He drew her close, the crown of her head beneath his cheek. Beyond the hansom’s window, New York was an endless rhythm of walls and windows and doors, darkened alleys, flashes of sunlight. He thought, if he could pick a moment to be taken into the flask, a moment to live in endlessly, perhaps he would choose this one: the passing city, and the woman at his side.
Helene Wecker (The Golem and the Jinni (The Golem and the Jinni, #1))
Forgive us our illusions, Father, and help us to accept our true relationship with You, in which there are no illusions, and where none can ever enter. Our holiness is Yours. What can there be in us that needs forgiveness, when Yours is perfect? The sleep of forgetfulness is only the unwillingness to remember Your forgiveness and Your Love. Let us not wander into temptation, for the temptation of the Son of God is not Your Will. And let us receive only what You have given, and accept but this into the minds which You created, and which You love. Amen.
Helen Schucman (A Course in Miracles: Based on the Original Handwritten Notes of Helen Schucman—Complete & Annotated Edition)
We have always held the Prophet Muhammad in great respect, and like both Jews and Muslims, the first Christians attributed all things to God’s will. We have much in common, whether Jew, Muslim, or Christian, only God can judge among us. And yet the church sows dissention and bloodshed. And we must do what we can.
Helen Bryan (The Sisterhood)
Never.” “You will,” the neighbor said, waving a finger mysteriously at me. “Haven’t you heard the secret of how cats come into your life?” I feigned interest. “Your old cat chooses your next cat for you,” she said. “Really?” “Yes, and once your new kitten has been found, it makes its way to you whatever happens,” she replied. “And it’ll be exactly the cat you need.
Helen Brown (Cats & Daughters:: They Don't Always Come When Called)
Helen did not tell him — then or ever — of the child she had started to hope for, the child they would now never have. Oh, she could have used the child. She could have tied him to her, for he was an honorable man and would have married her had she told him. But Helen’s love, even then in her youth, was such that she could not use this means. She wanted him to come to her of his own free will, marrying her because he could not live without her. To that marriage their child would have been an additional blessing.
Cordwainer Smith (The Lady Who Sailed the Soul)
You are afraid to know God’s Will, because you believe it is not yours. This belief is your whole sickness and your whole fear. Every symptom of sickness and fear arises here, because this is the belief that makes you want not to know. Believing this you hide in darkness, denying that the light is in you.
Helen Schucman (A Course in Miracles)
Agape mou,’ he began in a voice husky with emotion. ‘You crept beneath my skin, affected me as no other woman did, or ever will, and you invaded my heart, my soul. Until you became the very air I breathe. You. Only you.
Helen Bianchin
She had a hard time believing a woman who had gone to nursing school would risk her children’s lives over repeatedly disproven pseudoscience and the word of a former Playboy model. If anyone wanted a real-life documentation of the vital necessity of vaccines, they should look to the life of Helen
Karin Slaughter (The Last Widow (Will Trent, #9))
Dicky looked at her. “Tell me, Helen, have you experienced anything like this?” She squirmed, looked at Riley, who gave her a little nod. “Well,” Helen began, “I do find myself waking up at the same time in the night. Three thirty-three.” She didn’t tell them she woke up and saw ghosts. Though she was sure this was exactly the sort of crowd that would be eager to hear such a thing, she wasn’t willing to trust this detail to a group of strangers. The old woman beside her nodded. “It’s the spirits waking you. That’s a powerful number. The number three is the number of communication. Of psychic ability. It’s the number of mediums.” She looked at Helen, gauging her response. “What happens when you wake up, dear? Do you see any visions? Have any particular feelings?” “No,” Helen lied. “I just go back to sleep.” The woman nodded. “Stay up next time. Stay up, keep your eyes open, and listen. If they’re waking you up again and again, there’s a reason.
Jennifer McMahon (The Invited)
Watching, not doing. Seeking safety in not being seen. It’s a habit you can fall into, willing yourself into invisibility. And it doesn’t serve you well in life. Believe me it doesn’t. Not with people and loves and hearts and homes and work.
Helen Macdonald (H is for Hawk)
Neither of them spoke much on the way back to the station, and Morgan was desperate to change out of her soiled uniform. As if reading her mind, Ben parked up, saying, ‘You can go get changed, shower then come up to the office.’ ‘I’d better go and speak to my sergeant, tell him where I’m going. They might be short on patrol if I come up now.’ ‘You sort yourself out, and I’ll speak to Mads. He won’t mind; the DCI requested we ask you as soon as possible.’ That wasn’t strictly true, he knew. He’d requested Ben find someone ASAP. He hadn’t specifically requested Morgan, but she didn’t need to know that. She went in the direction of the women’s locker room, and he headed to the patrol sergeant’s office. Knocking on the door, he walked in without waiting to be asked. ‘Mads.’ ‘Ben, how’s it going? Is Morgan with you, is she coping okay? It’s a bit much for your first independent patrols.’ ‘She’s fine; at least she seems it. Look, I need some help. We’re desperately short-staffed and Tom said to find someone today. I’ve asked her and she’s happy to come up and do a three-month attachment. It will be a massive help.’ ‘What? It’s her second day. Don’t you want someone slightly more experienced and who’s willing to take on the extra caseload? Dan has been wanting to come up for months. He’d be more than happy to.’ Ben shut the door and lowered his voice. ‘Dan’s difficult; I can’t work with him. Not at the moment. This is the biggest murder case I’ve ever worked on, and I need to be focused. I can’t afford to spend all day wasting my effort trying to keep him in line. Morgan’s keen and has been on the case from the moment it was called in. I think she’ll be okay.’ ‘I think she won’t, she’s inexperienced.’ ‘Yes, but she’s confident and I have faith in her. Don’t forget, you owe me one.
Helen Phifer (One Left Alive (Detective Morgan Brookes, #1))
Drugged up, divorced, ignorant, and indebted, but at least they did it out of idealism. That has been the baby boomers’ universal alibi: our intentions were good. Later, they will admit, perhaps that idealism curdled, motivation flagged, the weaker-willed sold out. Still, the original impulse was altruistic. It would be quite a blow to their self-image if it were to be discovered that the boomers’ various crusades were selfish from the very beginning.
Helen Andrews (Boomers: The Men and Women Who Promised Freedom and Delivered Disaster)
And I’m sure you will, too,” I said. “You’re never too old to still find the good in life.” He smiled at me. “Thank you for sayin’ that. I think I needed to hear it today.
Blythe Baker (A Simple Country Murder (Helen Lightholder, #1))
She’d left me her husband, who didn’t expect much from me. He’d had his great love. And now he was willing, determined even, to be amused, to belly laugh at the slightest provocation, to appreciate heart-shaped pieces of toast as tokens of my affection.
Helen Oyeyemi (Boy, Snow, Bird)
Donald was stunned. They must be making a sensaysh out of it, to sacrifice so much time from even their ten-minute condensed-news cycle! His Mark II confidence evaporated. Euphoric from his recent eptification, he had thought he was a new person, immeasurably better equipped to affect the world. But the implications of that expensive plug stabbed deep into his mind. If State were willing to go to these lengths to maintain his cover identity, that meant he was only the visible tip of a scheme involving perhaps thousands of people. State just didn’t issue fiats to a powerful corporation like English Language Relay Satellite Service without good reason. Meaningless phrases drifted up, dissociated, and presented themselves to his awareness, all seeming to have relevance to his situation and yet not cohering. My name is Legion. I fear the Greeks, even bearing gifts. The sins of the fathers shall be visited on the children. Say can you look into the seeds of time? Was this the face that launch’d a thousand ships, And burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Struggling to make sense of these fragments, he finally arrived at what his subconscious might be trying to convey. The prize, these days, is not in finding a beautiful mistress. It’s in having presentable prodgies. Helen the unattainable is in the womb, and every mother dreams of bearing her. Now her whereabouts is known. She lives in Yatakang and I’ve been sent in search of her, ordered to bring her back or say her beauty is a lie—if necessary to make it a lie, with vitriol. Odysseus the cunning lurked inside the belly of the horse and the Trojans breached the wall and took it in while Laocoön and his sons were killed by snakes. A snake is cramped around my forehead and if it squeezes any tighter it will crack my skull. When the purser next passed, he said, “Get me something for a headache, will you?” He knew that was the right medicine to ask for, yet it also seemed he should have asked for a cure for bellyache, because everything was confused: the men in the belly of the wooden horse waiting to be born and wreak destruction, and the pain of parturition, and Athena was born of the head of Zeus, and Time ate his children, as though he were not only in the wooden horse of the express but was it about to deliver the city to its enemy and its enemy to the city, a spiralling wild-rose branch of pain with every thorn a spiky image pricking him into other times and other places. Ahead, the walls. Approaching them, the helpless stupid Odysseus of the twenty-first century, who must also be Odin blind in one eye so as not to let his right hand know what his left was doing. Odinzeus, wielder of thunderbolts, how could he aim correctly without parallax? “No individual has the whole picture, or even enough of it to make trustworthy judgments on his own initiative.” Shalmaneser, master of infinite knowledge, lead me through the valley of the shadow of death and I shall fear no evil … The purser brought a white capsule and he gulped it down. But the headache was only a symptom, and could be fixed.
John Brunner (Stand on Zanzibar)
I used to think that there was no place run quite as mad as home, but I see the same madness starting to plague this castle. Each day we all grow a little more mad here, and it’s so delightful. For if you stay long enough, and you will, you too shall feel the icy fingers of madness creep into your soul. And then, the fun shall really begin. Oh ! How we’ll laugh and dance. And how the tea and cakes will flow… just like home.
Michelle Helen Fritz (A Court of Broken Dreams & Curses (Courts & Curses, #1))
Personal transformation will occur if we are willing to question and examine every value we hold, and to be ready to see things differently. While reading this text, one will find his/ herself undertaking the challenge of recognizing the difference between beliefs that are rooted in fear and guilt, and those that incorporate love and forgiveness.
Helen Schucman (A Course in Miracles Abridged Edition: What if we all go to Heaven?)
It goes back to women’s sensitivity to others and their desire to maintain connection at almost any cost. Often, women won’t even ask at all. They’ll “intuit” whether a request might cause somebody discomfort, hold themselves back from asking, and then secretly be angry at the person they haven’t asked for not being willing to give it to them! In
Helene Brenner (I Know I'm In There Somewhere)
She’d willingly traded herself for this life. Now it was all teetering on an abyss.
Victoria Helen Stone (Evelyn, After)
Forgive me for interrupting your task," Devon said to Helen after they were introduced. A hesitant smile emerged. "Not at all, my lord. I'm merely observing the orchids to make certain there is nothing they lack." "How can you tell what they lack?" Devon asked. "I see the color of their leaves, or the condition of the petals. I look for signs of aphids or thrips, and I try to remember which varieties prefer moist soil and which ones like to be drier." "Will you show them to me?" Devon asked. Helen nodded and led him along the rows, pointing out particular specimens. "This was all my mother's collection. One of her favorites was Peristeria elata." She showed him a plant with marble-white blossom. "The central part of the flower resembles a tiny dove, you see? And this one is Dendrobium aemulum. It's called a feather orchid because of the petals." With a flash of shy mischief, Helen glanced back at Kathleen and remarked, "My sister-in-law isn't fond of orchids." "I despise them," Kathleen said, wrinkling her nose. "Stingy, demanding flowers that take forever to bloom. And some of them smell like old boots or rancid meat." "Those aren't my favorite," Helen admitted. "But I hope to love them someday. Sometimes one must love something before it becomes lovable.
Lisa Kleypas (Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels, #1))
In fact, it’s not about money at all. Back in the eighties, Steve and his late wife, Helen, built up a successful bakery business which they subsequently sold for millions to a multinational company, meaning Will and his dad are mega-wealthy. So, the bistro has always been more of a passion, a hobby, than a business. It was Will’s brainchild – something to keep his dad busy, stop him missing his wife so much. And it was a great idea. They both love it, and normally so do I.
Shalini Boland (The Millionaire's Wife)
To widen our inner circle and include others who are not like us, we must take a few risks, open our hearts and minds, change our mindset, and be willing to expand our thinking.
Helen Turnbull (The Illusion of Inclusion: Global Inclusion, Unconscious Bias, and the Bottom Line (Human Resource Management and Organizational Behavior Collection))
Spring had invaded the office of Copping, Wills and Brownlee but here its invasion was not so welcome. The office had been bearable during the winter for it was well-warmed and well-lighted (it had been quite pleasant to arrive here and escape from the cold dark streets) but today it felt like a prison, everyone in the place was longing to get out, and this unsettled feeling interfered considerably with the routine. There were stupid mistakes in the typing of letters and tempers were short. “I don’t know what’s got into everyone this morning,” said Helen Goudge crossly. “It’s Spring,” said Bel.
D.E. Stevenson (Bel Lamington (Bel Lamington #1))