Icon And Inferno Quotes

I don’t love you,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t love you, too’ she whispered back.

Thus, we have the icons of agape, eros, philia, and storge all represented by a single face, a single woman—Simonetta. To put this another way, one could argue that Botticelli sees in his beloved muse all four types of love and all four ideals of womanhood: saint, lover, friend, and spouse.

But perhaps there was beauty in not knowing. Maybe that was its own form of love, the faith of coming together even when you couldn’t see the path in front of you, when you had no idea whether joy or heartbreak would await you further down the road of life, when you had nothing but a guiding light in the distance to yearn for.

A little like the sun and the moon, aren't we? Never in the sky at the same time. But sometimes the sun and the moon were visible together. Sometimes they were.

Let me stay." "Keep me in your songs.

Grief is love. It's the price we pay for the gift of someone meaningful in our lives.

Have you ever missed a person even while they're still next to you? Like you're waiting for their absence someday, so you try desperately to hang on to the moment, so much that you can barely exist in the present with them?

I don't understand how you can live with an open heart. Everyone hurts you. Why don't you protect yourself better? Put up walls? "What if the thing your heart needs most is right on the side of that wall? I know it's dangerous to expose yourself to everything the world wants to throw at it, to everyone who wants to take something for themselves. But I still leave it open, just in case something beautiful comes in.

When she was in his life, he'd felt like, finally someone understood the most misunderstood parts of him, without him ever saying any of it aloud. Someone had been with him and seen him for who he truly was.

I told myself it was my fault. My fault, for opening my heart like that. And so after then, I closed it tight. It made me stronger, you know?" "I know." "Close your heart, and no one can tell you you're worthless.

Loyalty to a secret.

Here's a promise I can give to you. I promise that, when you need me, you can always find me. If you find yourself feeling alone, I promise I'll come to you. And someday, in some future, when I'm no longer wanted on a stage, and when you no longer want to be a secret agent...let's say that, if you aren't trying to find someone else. I promise I'm yours." "It's a promise

Then maybe, instead of needing to see her, you need to figure out why it is that she matters to you. Maybe you need to see what it is that she brings out of you, to make you so whole.

Loyalty to a secret.

Still, he let himself feel her absence. He let himself feel the absence of his brother. And he let himself feel that familiar suffocation, the feeling of wanting to talk to someone, to let out some of the emotions bottling up in his chest.

Sometimes you didn't have to let people back into your life, to absorb all the cruelty in the world. Sometimes you didn't have to open your heart. Sometimes it was okay to just let them go.

I didn't know about you. I just knew that about me. And I guess I felt like knowing you made me face those thoughts. You are my meditation, you know?

Maybe love was not knowing and going ahead anyway.

alleviate the inferno raging on her behind, which was slowly driving her mad. Surely he was some evil wizard disguised in adorable man/boy packaging. “That almost sounds like a challenge,” she snapped. “Baby, if issuing me a challenge makes you happy, I’ll do my best to rise to it. You don’t need to get so worked up. You’re getting all flushed.” He was confident to the point of sounding condescending; self-assured to the point of being smug. She resumed the crossed-arm battle stance in her seat, fighting back tears of frustration at the whole exchange and his ability to roast her derriere without laying a hand on her. And then she caught sight of it, in the far right corner on the digital display in the center of the dashboard. A tiny icon of a car seat appearing, then disappearing, intermittently flashing, and underneath it read, 86 . . . then 87 . . . and then 88. As soon as it fully registered, Amanda dug her feet into the floor mat, heels and all, and arched her body off the seat as best she could. “What’s the big idea!” she shrieked. “Just a little reminder, angel.” He chuckled, depressing

That's what I'm afraid of, Winter. I don't know how to follow you.' 'Then don't,' he replied. She searched his gaze. 'What?" He moved closer to her, until she could feel the warmth radiating from him. His body brushed against hers. 'I'll come to you.

What if protecting yourself kills you in the end?' he said. 'What if the thing your heart needs most is right on the other side of that wall? I know it's dangerous to expose yourself to everything the world wants to throw at it, to everyone who wants to take something for themselves. But I still leave it open, just in case something beautiful comes in.

Separated by centrifugal force, in the great turbine of Dante, or through fractional distillation in the Deisis of Byzantine icons, Inferno and Paradiso, layer of perfumed oil over layer of stinking pitch, all these in the end are all wisdom. Paradise – the wisdom of the right hand, right hemisphere, feminine, gentle and puffy, endless, still waters, illuminated in their depths by the phosphorescence of terrifying abyssal fish … Hell – wisdom of the left hand, left hemisphere, sudden paracletian fire, the mask that covers, in the crux of destruction, the soul of a dove. Good and evil, two enormous Buddhas erupting over our lives from two volcanoes over our lives, opposing and yet similar principles like magnetic poles, in the end they couple, over a footbridge of nervous fibers, to make the motionless and complicated hemispheres of the great, incomparable Brain that dreams us all.

What fires have you kindled in the hearts of others because of the inferno in yours?