Lighthouse Beacon Quotes

Grief does not expire like a candle or the beacon on a lighthouse. It simply changes temperature.

In writing this book, I send out signals, like a lighthouse beacon in whose power to illuminate the darkness, alas, I have no faith. But I live in hope.

These are all I have. I do not have the wide, bright beacon of some solid old lighthouse, guiding ships safely home, past the jaggedrocks. I only have these little glimmers that flicker and then go out.

Anxiously you ask, 'Is there a way to safety? Can someone guide me? Is there an escape from threatened destruction?' The answer is a resounding yes! I counsel you: Look to the lighthouse of the Lord. There is no fog so dense, no night so dark, no gale so strong, no mariner so lost but what its beacon light can rescue. It beckons through the storms of life. It calls, 'This way to safety; this way to home.

But it is when the storm rages that we fully understand the courage the lighthouse represents. When the sea becomes a tempestuous beast, the lighthouse transforms to an urgent beacon signaling the way toward shelter, courageously defying the elements.

The love within them shone as brightly as the lighthouse beam on the darkest, stormiest night. It broke through her confusion and heartache and filled her with a warm glow.

Bodies could be beacons, too, Saul knew. A lighthouse was a fixed beacon for a fixed purpose; a person was a moving one. But people still emanated light in their way, still shone across the miles as a warning, an invitation, or even just a static signal. People opened up so they became a brightness, or they went dark. They turned their light inward sometimes, so you couldn’t see it, because they had no other choice.

I was almost awestruck when I realized that like this meant without a condom. Jack's vulnerability shone through him in that exact moment like a lighthouse beacon in a raging storm. Somewhere along the way, we'd crossed an imaginary line where feelings and emotions blurred into the unknown. A place neither of us dared to go before.

I had let want in, opened the door ever so slightly. But want without the belief you can get what you want is pointless. You have to hope, so I let that in too. You have to. To want things and go for them and believe, even in impossible situations...Hope was what you had when you had nothing else. Hope was the perfect shiny top on the Christmas tree, the glowing halo of every wish, the endless beacon of a lighthouse bringing tormented ships home at last.

Will looked down at himself, at the knife at his feet, and remembered the knife he had buried at the base of the tree on the Shrewsbury-Welshpool road, stained with his blood and Jem’s. “All my life, since I came to the Institute, you were the mirror of my soul. I saw the good in me in you. In your eyes alone I found grace. When you are gone from me, who will see me like that?” There was a silence then. Jem stood as still as a statue. With his gaze Will searched for, and found, the parabatai rune on Jem’s shoulder; like his own, it had faded to a pale white. At last Jem spoke. The cool remoteness had left his voice. Will breathed in hard, remembering how much that voice had shaped the years of his growing up, its steady kindness a lighthouse beacon in the dark. “Have faith in yourself. You can be your own mirror.” “That words have the power to change us. Your words have changed me, Tess; they have made me a better man than I would have been otherwise. Life is a book, and there are a thousand pages I have not yet read. I would read them together with you, as many as I can, before I die—

We're a lighthouse, Nick. A beacon to help them find their way home.

The lighthouse lantern had been burning a lifetime, a beacon for love’s safe return. For a man who had, in fact, made it back home, just not alive.

It's a very cheery thing to come into London by any of these lines which run high and allow you to look down upon the houses like this." I thought he was joking, for the view was sordid enough, but he soon explained himself. "Look at those big, isolated clumps of buildings rising up above the slates, like brick islands in a lead-coloured sea." "The board-schools." "Light-houses, my boy! Beacons of the future! Capsules with hundreds of bright little seeds in each, out of which will spring the wiser, better England of the future.

To me, a king is a lighthouse. A guide who can cast his glow across his kingdom and bring every last one of us out of the shadows. A beacon who we can look up to when the world seems lost. A bridge who can unite us when our differences seem to stark to reconcile. Tonight, we need a king who is all of those things. A king who can look each of you in the eye and make you feel that you won't just fight for him or his kingdom, but you'll fight for our way of life.

Black met black on the distant horizon, the stars alone distinguishing sky from lake. On the sand below, Silver Beach glittered at the water's edge while on the north side of the river the lighthouse's beacon signaled safe harbor.

It is such a rare thing in this world to find someone who is not constantly trying to impress someone, be liked, or fill empty airspace with mindless chatter. A person who is completely, unapologetically okay with who they are and what they feel is like a beacon of light in the dark. As author Anne Lamott once said, “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.

I'm going to put a diamond on you the size of a lighthouse beacon. There won't be a man in this city who doesn't know you're married.

There was an ocean of warmth in him, of protection and safety, that shone like a lighthouse beacon.

Ellen’s smile was like a lighthouse beacon, guiding me away from the war. There was something happening, and it felt natural, as though it was always going to happen, someday.

There is a fine line between friendship and parenting, and when that line is crossed, the result is often disastrous. A parent who strives to make a true friend of his or her child may well sacrifice authority, and though that parent may be comfortable with surrendering the dominant position, the unintentional result will be to steal from that child the necessary guidance and, more importantly, the sense of security the parent is supposed to impart. On the opposite side, a friend who takes a role as parent forgets the most important ingredient of friendship: respect. For respect is the guiding principle of friendship, the lighthouse beacon that directs the course of any true friendship. And respect demands trust.

Here is the true secret of the Law of Attraction: You have a core vibrational frequency. It is purely uniquely you. It's a beacon. It's like a lighthouse. It shines. It radiates purely that signature frequency of your unique being. It never stops radiating that light, that frequency, that energy - never stops. Everything that is in alignment with that frequency is doing its utmost to come to you. Everything that is not aligned with that frequency is doing its utmost to get as far away from you as it possibly can. If the things that are aligned with that beacon aren't reaching you, it's not because "you're not vibrating at the resonance that you need to attract it". It's because your definitions and beliefs are holding it away. If the things that are trying to get away from you can't get away from you, it's not because they're not trying - it's because you're holding onto them. So the true Secret of the Law of Attraction is not "how to learn to attract what you prefer", it's how to learn to let go of what you don't, so that you can let in what is trying to get to you automatically - by definition. That's the true Secret and that's why it's effortless. It's just about letting go and letting in. It's not about having to learn to do something you're not already doing.

BELIEF - It’s the shining, lighthouse beacon that relentlessly lights the path to your personal utopia, your promised land your infinite wishes and fantasies. It’s your incessant blinding light at the end of the tunnel

A lighthouse was a fixed beacon for a fixed purpose; a person was a moving one. But people still emanated light in their way, still shown across the miles as a warning, an invitation, or even just a static signal. People opened up so they became a brightness, or they went dark. They turned their light inward sometimes, so you couldn't see it, because they had no other choice.

It saved me in more ways than I can count. Because I knew no matter how afraid I felt, I wasn't truly alone. Angharad's eyes were shining now, too. "That's all I wanted, you know," she said. "When I was young-when I was your age. I wanted just one girl, only one, to read my book and feel that she was understood, and I would be understood in return. Writing that book was like shining a beacon from a lighthouse, I suppose. Are there any ships on the horizon? Will they signal back to me? I never got the chance to know. My husband's name was all over it, and his was the only ship I could see." "I saw it," Effy whispered. "I see it. And it saved me.

sparklers out in front of her. Staring at them, she thought: These are all I have. I do not have the wide, bright beacon of some solid old lighthouse, guiding ships safely home, past the jagged rocks. I only have these little glimmers that flicker and then go out. Let me see my daughter like my mother could never see me. Let her see me, too.

But these days it is a shrinking beacon, a lighthouse viewed too far from port.

In his mind he saw Ligeia standing naked on the top of the point, breasts jutting out in the dark like beacons of lust. A human lighthouse of doom.

...the lighthouse, as a symbol, made no sense. Someone had declared it a Christian beacon of some sort, but a lighthouse wasn't something that led you to a safe harbor, a lighthouse was something that you avoided at all costs, a lighthouse was something you stayed away from lest you and your ship be dashed on the rocks. The most perverse message a lighthouse could ever deliver is come here and be saved.

He had been my lighthouse, leading me to safe harbor without fail. He'd weathered the storms with me, holding out hope I would find my way to him. His light never flickered, never went out. He was my steadfast beacon - my destination.

Lighthouse people are beacons that call all the sailors in ships back to land, beckoning them in toward the light. Lighthouse people are magnetic and luminescent, so much so that even when one sailor manages to row all the way to land and climbs up into the lighthouse, the rest of the sailors will stay out there on the water, waiting for their chance to come to shore. They will feel that it’s always best to keep an eye on the lighthouse, even if they have to come and go due to other sailorly obligations. The lighthouse might act like it doesn’t know it’s so popular with the sailors, but it does. How could it not? Even if the lighthouse has a special sailor for the moment, its light is always on. It can’t help it.

O America, I am your Liberty, and you are that huddled mass yearning to breathe free. I am your Lighthouse, the One beaconing [yea, beckoning], and you are that wayfarer—strayed, grayed, and frayed … Now, return, you tempest-tost; lift up your gaze to the lighted torch aloft the golden door and come home.

There is a fine line between friendship and parenting, and when that line is crossed, the result is often disastrous. A parent who strives to make a true friend of his or her child may well sacrifice authority, and though the parent may be comfortable with surrendering the dominant position, the unintentional result will be to steal from that child the necessary guidance and, more importantly, the sense of security the parent is supposed to impart. On the opposite side, a friend who takes a role as parents forgets the most important ingredient of friendship: respect. For respect is the guiding principle of friendship, the lighthouse beacon that directs the course of any true friendship. And respect demands trust.

What does a ship absolutely need to stay afloat? I’m not a mariner, so I can’t exactly say. . . but what I can tell you is that ships don’t absolutely need lighthouses—but they sure do help! When it comes to acting on inspired ideas, it’s easy to trick ourselves into thinking we don’t really need to do them, but that’s like a ship ignoring the beacon of light on a rocky shore.

Far from the shore stands the grey lighthouse, above sunken slimy rocks that are seen when the tide is low, but unseen when the tide is high. Past that beacon for a century have swept the majestic barques of the seven seas. In the days of my grandfather there were many; in the days of my father not so many; and now there are so few that I sometimes feel strangely alone, as though I were the last man on our planet.

I belong to myself. Always. Eternally. Without question. My own safe house. My own sheltered harbor. I am my own solid ground. I am the lighthouse beacon. I call the ships safely home from sea. I am the North Star and the compass. I am my own port in the wildest storm. I am the spell caster and the spell breaker. I am a witch of alchemy and transformation. I am the pages in the grimoire of knowledge, I am the source of all the magic ever known. I am the kiss that wakes us all from slumber. I am the white horse knight in shining armor. I am my own happily ever after fairytale godmother. I am my own rest stop on the longest journey of living. The final destination on every treasure map I will ever need. I am my own primary relationship, my own till death do us part. I am my own center and saving grace, my own best-kept secret. I am the lineage of wisdom itself, the home of my own belonging. I am my own. And my own. And always my own.

Societies sometimes smear Wisdom and her natural, symmetrical beauty. She is at times caked beneath the extreme makeup of dirty politics and yellow journalism. At times she may appear to be the red, far-right extremist to a majority that has drifted too far left - and at other times, the blue, far-left extremist to a majority that has drifted too far right. 'She' is Wisdom, a beacon in the center of hope and a lighthouse to be utilized. She is truth that must be washed by the sea of Love.

Beacon, beacon, lonesome on a hill— Waves run aground, pound ‘round, what a thrill! Water water everywhere crashes, Shore’s not lazy for it mashes, bashes….. Summer’s when tourists traipse o’er to see you, Offering to wipe-wash your dust and mildew; Summer painters place you with dinghy and gull, Historians have you as subject o’er which to mull. When feline Fog drifts gently or is heavy, Your bright light’s followed by boat bevy; And during those calm, clear days and nights You’re that upright nautical dream exciting tiny tykes.

I would travel far and wide...seeing, listening, creating. I would weave tales for an enthralled audience. A song would be heard throughout the kingdom, and I would be a part of that. You would normally think that a bard would pick up his tales from stories heard in his travels or, perhaps, from personal observation of these events. Perhaps some bards would create the stories themselves or, at least, adapt the original versions heard... But what if the bard were really more than a bard? What if he were once a gallant knight or an old sea captain...perhaps even a forgotten prince? What if the stories he told, what if the characters brought to life in his stories, were really of his comrades and himself? Stories from long ago that he finally wished to be heard? What if those who listened to his tales, all the while assuming that they were far disconnected from their communicator, were really listening to the narrative of a wanderer intimately connected to it all? And where would such an individual go when his final days as an “official” bard were spent? Perhaps he would decide to retire in a lighthouse. For, surely, no place would be more fitting for the hero emeritus. He would gaze upon the glorious sea in recollection...guiding others with the beacon of light atop his home as he had once been shepherded. The adventurer became the storyteller...and then the Sentinel of the Sea.

Your husband wants to be big in your eyes, edify him and lift him up and he will become what he sees in your eyes. He needs to feel the love of the Holy Spirit and see what God can do for him. Love him as Christ loves you with an unconditional love. Step aside so that he might see the miracles as you see them and his heart will be totally changed. You are not your husband’s Holy Spirit, let Jesus do His job. Your husband will come to a place where he loves Jesus with an unfailing love. God has called you to be a woman of excellence, don’t settle for anything less. Sometimes this means humbling yourself and stepping aside so your husband may shine. You came out of the darkness and into the light; you are a beacon on a hill, a lighthouse for many. Love your husband, lift him up, be love to him. When his heart is fully God’s you will have what you seek.

Lighting the Way for Sailors SENTINEL Hamilton’s lighthouse at Cape Hatteras was rebuilt after the original succumbed to erosion. As his storm-tossed brig passed North Carolina’s Cape Hatteras on the way to New York in the early 1770s, a fearful Hamilton vowed to someday build a way-finding lighthouse there. In 1789, Congress passed An Act for the Establishment and support of Lighthouse, Beacons, Buoys, and Public Piers, and the job of maintaining those structures was given to the Department of the Treasury. Thus did Hamilton find himself the “Superintendent” of Lighthouses. His first commission, which rose near the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay, was designed by John McComb Jr., who would one day build the Grange, Hamilton’s New York home. And in 1803 a promise was kept, as “Mr. Hamilton’s Light” opened on Cape Hatteras.

As you shift, as you personally reach the tipping point where your light and love in the present moment outweigh your fear and insecurity and negativity, you act as a beacon, a signal, an alarm clock or a lighthouse for others who have in spirit chosen to ascend but in the physical realm have not yet begun the process of releasing the lower-vibration frequencies from their life. These lower-vibration frequencies include habits and addictions. They also include thoughts, feelings and emotions, beliefs and intentions, as well as energies.

Thank you again for joining me in my journey with the Beacons of Hope. I hope the books have inspired you to visit a lighthouse or two. More than that, I pray you've been both encouraged and inspired to trust in the Giver of Hope. Maybe, like Nathaniel, you've let yourself be haunted by your parents' mistakes. Perhaps you've even started down the same destructive path. I pray God will help you break free of your chains and help you walk in His freedom down a new path. If you're like Abbie, having been hurt or abandoned by the people you thought loved you, I pray that you will recognize that God will never abandon you. He is always there offering you His hope, love, and forgiveness. Please, never forget all that He offers.

In every wreck and crash, there is some unseen man rubbing his hands with thoughts of tidy profits. Lighthouses,

God sure has a sense of humor. I've always tried to stay as far away as possible from lighthouses, and here I am the acting lightkeeper

The call was too irritable to ignore. A bright student with a few laurels to her crown, confused whether to choose academic success over silver screen, Chloe lay staring at the ceiling like a ship in the dark waiting for the lighthouse’s beacon to flash a signal to guide her in her most indecisive moment.

The beacon of the lighthouse pans over the black waters of the Atlantic, and I’m momentarily transfixed. My heart races as I see the great white structure in my periphery. The lighthouse stands tall and menacing on the farthest point of the cliff. The official name is Avarice Point but what the locals call it is much more accurate. Suicide Rock.

disobedience in our heart. When sin controls an area of our life or becomes an accepted part of our life together as a family, it hides the light of Jesus. The Bible is clear that 5 Every home and every family member battles with sin. We all do the very things we know we should not do.6 But there is a difference between struggling to resist sin through the power of the gospel and allowing or permitting sinful patterns to rule in our homes and lives. When we allow these patterns of disobedience to control our home, it no longer shines as a beacon of God’s love and light to others.

You are the lighthouse that guides others through their darkest storms. Keep shining, and never forget to light your own path to greatness, for you are someone's beacon of hope.

I was directionless, lost at sea without a beacon. You’ve become that for me. You’re my lighthouse, Theo. No matter how far I go, as long as I can still see you, I know I can come back from the dark.

Cliff squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back just to let him know I was there. Then I saw light. Not from Mrs. Henderson’s torch; this was something bigger, out beyond the houses. It wasn’t constant like the searchlights over London, but every few moments sent out a beam so strong that in it I glimpsed the grey water and white-topped waves of what had to be the sea. My heart gave a little skip. ‘That’s the lighthouse,’ said Miss Carter, who appeared beside me. ‘Beautiful, isn’t it? A beacon to guide the lost to safety.’ It was beautiful. I’d never seen a real working lighthouse before. The way its light reached far out into the darkness was mesmerising to watch. Miss Carter sighed. ‘There’s talk of turning it off now, though. It’s a threat to national security, apparently, because the enemy’s been using landmarks like this to navigate their planes.’ ‘When they come over to bomb us, you mean?’ I’d heard something similar back in London, about German pilots following the Thames to find their targets. ‘Exactly that.’ This war, I thought bleakly. This horrid, horrid war. Even down here in the wilds of Devon we couldn’t escape it.

The Lighthouse by Stewart Stafford Apart and alone, From where the ships dock, Stands the white sentinel edifice on a promontory rock. Like the land's index finger, At the extent of the sea, Warning passing vessels where it's safe to be. It's one luminous eye, Swivels around its clear head, To keep lucky sailors off the seabed. It seeks no credit, And needs no thanks, Saluting proudly from above the fog banks. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.

Empires have risen in this world and fallen, and history takes note of few of them. Those that survive in the memories of men do so by virtue of the faults that flawed their greatness. But here in Britain, in my own lifetime, a spark ignited in the breast of one strong man and became a clean, pure flame to light the world, a beacon that might have outshone the great lighthouse of Pharos, had a sudden gust of wilful wind not extinguished it prematurely. In the space of a few, bright years, something new stirred in this land; something unprecedented; something wonderful; and men, being men, perceived it with stunned awe and then, being men, destroyed it without thought, for being new and strange. When it was over, when the light was snuffed out like a candle flame, a young man, full of hurt and bewilderment, asked me to explain how everything had happened. He expected me to know, for I was Merlyn, the Sorcerer, Fount of all Wisdom.

Empires have risen in this world and fallen, and history takes note of few of them. Those that survive in the memories of men do so by virtue of the faults that flawed their greatness. But here in Britain, in my own lifetime, a spark ignited in the breast of one strong man and became a clean, pure flame to light the world, a beacon that might have outshone the great lighthouse of Pharos, had a sudden gust of wilful wind not extinguished it prematurely. In the space of a few, bright years, something new stirred in this land; something unprecedented; something wonderful; and men, being men, perceived it with stunned awe and then, being men, destroyed it without thought, for being new and strange. When it was over, when the light was snuffed out like a candle flame, a young man, full of hurt and bewilderment, asked me to explain how everything had happened. He expected me to know, for I was Merlyn, the Sorcerer, Fount of all Wisdom.

Sostratus built his great lighthouse of white marble, five hundred feet high, as a beacon to all ancient mariners of the Mediterranean, and as one of the seven wonders of the world.

As the bus pulled away from the curb, James raised his hand in a small wave; he was still standing there when we reached the end of the street, like a beacon on a lighthouse warning tall ships to be careful in the fog.

…a kingdom right on the shore, surrounded by gray mountains and bright green meadows. ‘Tis a place filled with fine castles born from the ocean, itself. The very walls are made of limestone and pearls, thick and heavy, a glistening, natural fortress soaked in golden sunlight. No man could calculate its worth, because it exceeds all of nature’s wealth. It is a great miracle, a grand dream not of our world. It is a beacon, a strong, gleaming lighthouse guiding great ships home. I dare not describe it more, for my words do not do it justice…

The light from the cabin drew him like the beacon of a lighthouse pulling in a weary sailor. It shone for miles over the rolling land.

Black Beacon Books... Why the name? There are many tropes and symbols used in fiction of a dark and mysterious nature. Amongst them, we have keys, mirrors, telescopes, treasure chests, secret passages, graveyards, skulls, churches, castles, caves, telescopes, clocks, the moon, oil lamps and candles, and, of course, beacons and lighthouses. The beacon or lighthouse conjures a setting of darkness, for in daylight they are rendered almost useless. In this darkness, they have a role to play, a crucial role, and that is to either warn away or beckon nearer. That is also the role of Black Beacon Books, to thrust the reader into mystery and darkness whilst providing a distant and guiding light, one that can be seen atop cliffs rising up from a troubled sea or on the peaks of wild mountains. We want stories that both warn you of impending danger and draw you into the worlds they create.