Nostradamus Quotes

In the end, I think the relationships that survive in this world are the ones where two people can finish each other's sentences. Forget drama and torrid sex and the clash of opposites. Give me banter any day of the week.

I have a foreboding of an America in my children's or grandchildren's time -- when the United States is a service and information economy; when nearly all the manufacturing industries have slipped away to other countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what's true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness... The dumbing down of American is most evident in the slow decay of substantive content in the enormously influential media, the 30 second sound bites (now down to 10 seconds or less), lowest common denominator programming, credulous presentations on pseudoscience and superstition, but especially a kind of celebration of ignorance

Here's what I think: the five most unattractive traits in people are cheapness, clinginess, neediness, unwillingness to change and jealousy. Jealousy is the worst, and by far the hardest to conceal.

So where do you start when you want to start your life again?

Jason once told me that eye contact is the most intimacy two people can have -- forget sex -- because the optic nerve is technically an extension of the brain, and when two people look into each other's eyes, it's brain-to-brain.

I am aware that there is a world out there that functions without regard to me. There are wars and budgets and bombings and vast dimensions of wealth and greed and ambition and corruption. And yet I don't feel a part of that world, and I wouldn't know how to join if I tried.

Lists only spell out the things that can be taken away from us by moths and rust and thieves. If something is valuable, don't put it in a list. Don't even say the words.

As I'm never going to be old, I'm glad that I never lost my sense of wonder about the world, although I have a hunch it would have happened pretty soon. I loved the world, its beauty and bigness as well as its smallness.

After my brush with the suicidal impulse, I listen with new ears to others when they speak on the subject. I think there are people who were born with that little door open, and they have to go through life knowing that they might jump through it at any moment.

At least when you're young you're also stupid.

We're all born lost, aren't we? We're all born separated from God - over and over life makes sure to inform us of this - and yet we're all real: we have names, we have lives. We mean something. We must.

It is indeed a mistake to confuse children with angels

Sometimes it feels as if everything in life is just something we haul into the grave.

...you spend a much larger part of your life being old, not young. Rules change along the way. The first things to go are those things you thought were eternal.

I think God is how you deal with everything that's out of your own control.

Sometimes I think God is like weather - you may not like the weather, but it has nothing to do with you. You just happen to be there. Deal with it. Sadness and grief are part of being human and always will be.

I was sick of wanting money. I was sick of being without a goal.

Jason said, "Yes. Gerard T. Giraffe." What does the 'T' stand for?" 'The.

Sometimes I think God is like weather--you may not like the weather, but it has nothing to do wit you. You just happen to be there. Deal with it.

What surprises me about humanity is that in the end such a narrow range of plights defines our moral lives.

My brain feels like a cool, deep lake.

It's around midnight. After I left Dad, my choice was to either become very drunk or write this. I chose to write this. It felt kind of now-or-never for me.

Will the future bring your wisdom to me? Or will darkness rule the kingdom for all eternity? You will live in my heart… I will still remember even though we are apart. I will feel you there for me As I walk the road of life You help me fight for what is right I will honour thy name

Berndt handed in a plan for the occultist propaganda to be carried on by us. We are getting somewhere. The Americans and English fall easily to this kind of propaganda. We are therefore pressing into service all star witnesses of occult prophecy. Nostradamus must once again submit to being quoted.

And in his heart, I think, he's now learned what I came to believe, which is, as I've said all along, that the sun may burn brightly, and the faces of children may be plump and achingly sweet, but in the air we breathe, in the water we drink and in the food we share, there will always be darkness in this world.

I believe that what separates humanity from everything else in this world – spaghetti, binder paper, deep-sea creatures, edelweiss, and Mount McKinley – is that humanity alone has the capacity at any given moment to commit all possible sins.” --Hey Nostradamus!

Nothing in the world can one imagine beforehand,not the least thing,everything is made up of so many unique particulars that cannot be forseen.

Mankind will discover objects in space sent to us by the watchers...

We need god to prosper those without him will not.

Inasmuch as I am a spiritual man, I do believe in God - I think that He created an order for the world; I believe that, in constantly bombarding Him with requests for miracles, we're also asking that He unravel the fabric of the world. A world of continuous miracles would be a cartoon, not a world.

After there is great trouble among mankind, a greater one is prepared. The great mover of the universe will renew time, rain, blood, thirst, famine, steel weapons and disease. In the heavens, a fire seen

Failure is authentic, and because it's authentic, it's real and genuine, and because of that, it's a pure state of being.

It’s so hard to balance in our minds the knowledge that ‘the world’ is mundanely ‘a planet.’ The former is so holy; the latter merely a science project.

So many evils by Satan's prince will be committed that almost the entire world will find itself undone and desolated. Before these events, many rare birds will cry in the air, 'Now! Now!" and sometime later will vanish

O futuro de Portugal - que não calculo, mas sei - está escrito já, para quem saiba lê-lo, nas trovas de Bandarra, e também nas quadras de Nostradamus. Esse futuro é sermos tudo. Quem, que seja português, pode viver a estreiteza de uma só personalidade, de uma só nação, de uma só fé?

The world was so unbearably pretty, and it continued being so all the way down the mountain to school. I felt slightly high because of the beauty, and the inside of my head tickled. I wondered if this is how artists go through life, with all of its sensations tickling their craniums like a peacock feather..

The world is a glorious place, and filled with so many unexpected moments that I'd get lumps in my throat, as though I were watching a bride walk down the aisle - moments as eternal and full of love as the lifting of veils, the saying of vows and the moment of the first wedded kiss.

If I've learned anything in twenty-nine years, it's that every human being you see in the course of a day has a problem that's sucking up at least 70 percent of his or her radar. My gift - bad choice of words - is that I can look at you, him, her, them, whoever, and tell right away what is keeping them awake at night: money; feelings of insignificance; overwhelming boredom; evil children; job troubles; or perhaps death, in one of its many costumes, perched in the wings. What surprises me about humanity is that in the end such a narrow range of plights defines our moral lives.

And when you do find this letter, you know what? Something extraordinary will happen. It will be like a reverse solar eclipse - the sun will start shining down in the middle of night, imagine that!

There are a number of things a woman can tell about a man who is roughly twenty-nine years old, sitting in the cab of a pickup truck at 3:37 in the afternoon on a weekday, facing the Pacific, writing furiously on the back of pink invoice slips. Such a man may or may not be employed, but regardless, there is mystery there. If this man is with a dog, then that's good, because it means he's capable of forming relationships. But if the dog is a male dog, that's probably a bad sign, because it means the guy is likely a dog, too. A girl dog is much better, but if the guy is over thirty, any kind of dog is a bad sign regardless, because it means he's stopped trusting humans altogether. In general, if nothing else, guys my age with dogs are going to be work. Then there's stubble: stubble indicates a possible drinker, but if he's driving a van or a pickup truck, he hasn't hit bottom yet, so watch out, honey. A guy writing something on a clipboard while facing the ocean at 3:37 P.M. may be writing poetry, or he may be writing a letter begging someone for forgiveness. But if he's writing real words, not just a job estimate or something business-y, then more likely than not this guy has something emotional going on, which could mean he has a soul.

With Jason I thought I'd finally played my cards right, and now I'm just one more of those broken, sad people out there, figuring out a year in advance where they can have Easter and Christmas dinner without feeling like a burden or duty to others, cursing the quality of modern movies because it's so hard to fill weeknights with movies when they're all crap, and waiting, just waiting, for those three drinks a night to turn into four - and then, well, then I'll be applying my makeup in the morning, combing my hair, washing my clothes, but it's not really for anyone. I'm alive, but so what.

To acknowledge God is to fully accept the sorrow of the human condition.

God, I wish he and I had been genuinely close as opposed to the "Don't-they-look-nice-together-in-the-airbrushed-family-portrait close.

He said, "A ring is a halo for your finger. From now on, we no longer cast two shadows, we cast one.

Jason's father, Reg, always said "Love what God loves and hate what God hates," but more often than not I had the impression that he really meant "Love what Reg loves and hate what Reg hates.

Many stubborn errors of assertion and denial, he went on, are the result of some good minds in each generation having claimed to do the work of twenty or a hundred and claiming, at the same time, that they have put their finger on the "heart of the matter.

In short, the game is split in two, and it takes two floors of the great casino that is our world. The game has already been played, quickly and silently, in the invisible realm that communicates with our world only by oracles, signs, and dreams of premonition. It is also going to be played out, wordy and futile, on the earth, in prison, between two men.

I wish I could say that success turns people into plastic dolls, but the truth is that I don't know any successful people

These months drive us to listen within.

What can you guarentee, O Nostradamus of Hayward?" I carp.

We all die,’ said Nostradamus. ‘The man you love. The man who loves you. The man you married. But because of you there will be something, I promise you, by which men will know Francis Crawford has been.

And when you do find this letter, you know what? Something extraordinary will happen. It will be like a reverse solar eclipse - the sun will start shining down in the middle of the night, imagine that! - and when I see this sunlight it will be my signal to go running out into the streets, and I'll shout over and over, "Awake! Awake! The son of mine who once was lost has now been found!" I'll pound on every door in the city, and my cry will ring true: "Awake! Everyone listen, there has been a miracle - my son who once was dead is now alive. Rejoice! All of you! Rejoice! You must! My son is coming home!

And in his heart, I think, he’s now learned what I’ve come to believe, which is, as I’ve said all along, that the sun may burn brightly and the faces of children may be achingly sweet, but in the air we breathe, in the water we drink and the food we share, there will always be darkness in the world.

Her published books include: Conversations with Nostradamus Volumes IJIJII - Jesus and the Essenes - They Walked with Jesus - Between Death and Life - A Soul Remembers Hiroshima - Keepers of the Garden - Legacy from the Stars - The Legend of Starcrash - The Custodians - The Convoluted Universe, Books I, II, III - Five Lives Remembered.

When you crop a photo, you tell a lie.

innocent.” Stupid, stupid woman, but a woman whose daughter was lost in the

He turned to his husband, his mouth falling open, as if he’d just remembered something important. “Where’s our baby?” Ronan’s face broke into a slow smirk. “Dixie’s watching her. You know how much that dog loves our daughter. I left her with the remote control and a pile of dog treats.” Ten’s eyes popped open. He blinked a few times, his mouth opening and closing but no sound came out. “Your mother is with her, Nostradamus!

And you yourselves, ruling over your billions of neurons, what do you know about the impression of unity that is no more to be scorned than the rest of your experience? Listen, to be honest, I have the impression of living in a perpetual, universal fairyland, where things that can be explained are the exception. It seems to me that the normal is to the marvelous as the circle is to the ellipse: a specific instance, skimpy and impoverished, gutted of everything that makes conics powerful. Your ordinary trigonometry looks great next to these two focal points, the sine and cosine — both elliptical — whose relationship can only be expressed in a formula if you dare write in a little 'i', the sign of an imaginary number whose content you cannot imagine. Is the square root of -1 any more rational or thinkable than the action of a god on your soul? Both are proven by their effectiveness.

But in that one little window of time, many lasting decisions were made. First, any love for my father that might have remained either in my mother's heart or my own - vaporized. Second, we knew for sure that Dad was unfixably nuts.

I was starting to remember the whole problem now: I hate these fucking people [people at Tea Party rallies, ed]. It's never been just political, it's personal. I'm not convinced anyone in this country except the kinds of weenies who thought student council was important really cares about large versus small government or strict constructionalism versus judicial activism. The ostensible issues are just code words in an ugly snarl of class resentment, anti-intellectualism, old-school snobbery, racism, and who knows what else - grudges left over from the Civil War, the sixties, gym class. The Tea Party likes to cite a poll showing that their members are wealthier and better educated than te general populace, but to me they mostly looked like the same people I'd had to listen to in countless dive bars railing against "edjumicated idiots" and explaining exactly how Nostradamus predicted 9/11, the very people I and everyone I know fled our hometowns to get away from. So far all my interactions at the rally were only reinforcing my private theory - I suppose you might call it a prejudice - that liberals are the ones who went to college, moved to the nearest city where no one would call them a fag, and now only go back for holidays; conservatives are the ones who married their high school girlfriends, bought houses in their hometowns, and kept going to church and giving a shit who won the homecoming game. It's the divide between the Got Out and the Stayed Put. This theory also account for the different reactions of these two camps when the opposition party takes power, raising the specter of either fascist or socialist tyranny: the Got Outs always fantasize about fleeing the country for someplace more civilized - Canada, France, New Zealand; the Stayed Put just di further in, hunkering down in compounds, buying up canned goods and ammo.

2 June 1942. Starting to worry about the shape this novel will have when finished! Consider that I haven’t yet finished the second part, and I see the third? But that the fourth and fifth are in limbo and what limbo! It’s really in the lap of the gods since it depends on what happens. And the gods could find it amusing to wait a hundred or even a thousand years, as the saying goes18: and I’ll be far away. But the gods wouldn’t do that to me. I’m also counting a lot on the prophecy of Nostradamus.

An especially powerful type of historical evidence [for the Bible and Christianity] is that of fulfilled prophecy - historical events written down long before they actually happen. Hundreds of prophecies in the Bible have been remarkably fulfilled exactly as fortold but often hundreds of years later. This type of evidence is unique to the Bible and can be explained only by divine inspiration. God, the Creator of time, is outside of time. He is the One who controls the future and, therefore, is the only One who knows the future. "Bible prophecies are not vague and rambling, such as those of Nostradamus and other supposed extrabiblical prophets. Prophecies in the Bible deal with specific places, people, and events, and their fulfillments can be checked by reference to subsequent history.

I've encountered no greater mystery in life than myself. In a just society I'd be warehoused somewhere. But of course what really threatens the scofflaw is not the just society but the decaying one. It is here that he finds himself becoming slowly indistinguishable from the citizenry. He finds himself co-opted. Difficult these days to be a rake or a bounder. A roué. A deviant? A pervert? Surely you're joking. The new dispensations have all but erased these categories from the language. You can no longer be a loose woman . For instance. A trollop. The whole concept is meaningless. You cant even be a drug addict. At best you're just a user. A user? What the fuck is that? We've gone from dope friends to drug users in just a few short years. It doesn't take Nostradamus to see where this is headed. The most heinous of criminals clamoring for standing. Serialkillers and cannibals claiming a right to their lifestyle. Like anyone else I try to sort out where I fit into this menagerie. Without malefactors the world of the righteous is robbed of all meaning. As for myself again if I cant be decorum's sworn enemy while savoring its fruits I simply see no place for me at all. What would you recommend, Squire? Go home and draw a warm bath and climb in and open a vein? Never mind. I see you weighing the merits of it. Anyway, Hoffer has it right. Real trouble doesn't begin in a society until boredom has become its most general feature. Boredom will drive even quietminded people down paths they'd never imagined. Boredom. Squire, I'm a scoundrel very nearly without peer. But in our time decent people actually attract comment. We dont know what to make of them. They have few friends, while I have more friends than I know what to do with. Why is that? I dont know. I think it's because people are bored out of their fucking minds. I cant come up with anything else.

his progression any further down the

For all that we have so far explained about the future, how could a KGB spy be included with the likes of Nostradamus or a Roman emperor’s Chaldean astrologer? What if I told you that KGB and GRU spies have made many accurate predictions about the future? What if I told you that one particular defector made 148 predictions with an accuracy rating of almost 94 percent?

From the calm morning, the end will come. When of the dancing horse the number of circles will be nine.” —Nostradamus

I believe this puts Golitsyn in a higher category than Nostradamus for two reasons. First, Golitsyn did not write obscure predictions in archaic French verse; and second, Golitsyn provided us with insights that dwarf Nostradamus’s trivialities. In fact, Golitsyn told us how the communists planned to take over the United States; and the communists have done almost everything he predicted.

Season's Bleatings by Stewart Stafford I'm looking forward to Christmas, As Nostradamus dreaded prophecy, In place of war, famine, apocalypse, I see spending, coveting and family. Wandering through warm déjà vu, In new ways with usual-faced folk, Fat in an absent winter wonderland, Goodwill to all men as you go broke. A fever dream or a deep turkey coma? St. Nicholas dripping presents around? An eviction notice to vacate sobriety, Consumerism and consumption unbound. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

Nostradamus,

The snow covered top shall ignite the sky in flames as ash falls to cover the ground. Cherry blossoms will die and fall leafless to the ground as the dying wind shall groan on on silence. For this year has not be born.

Drones shall enter the home as mothers and children sit watching the screen. Wait for four seconds, an eternity in hindsight and then they shall be no more in the mud covered home of the desert.

BOOKS RECOMMENDED BY KATHLEEN MCGOWAN The Brother of Jesus and the Lost Teachings of Christianity, Jeffrey J. Butz Excellent account of early Christianity and its factions. Rev. Jeff’s understanding of Greek translations was a revelation for me. A rare scholarly work that is entirely readable and entertaining. The Woman with the Alabaster Jar, Margaret Starbird A pioneering book in Magdalene research, Starbird was one of the first to assert the theory of Magdalene as bride. Mary Magdalen, Myth and Metaphor, Susan Haskins The definitive Magdalene reference book. Massacre at Montsegur, Zoé Oldenbourg Classic, scholarly account of the final days of the Cathars. The Perfect Heresy, by Stephen O’Shea A very readable book on Cathar history. Chasing the Heretics, Rion Klawinski A history-filled memoir of traveling through Cathar country. Key to the Sacred Pattern, Henry Lincoln Fascinating theories on the sacred geometry of Rennes-le-Château and the Languedoc by one of the authors of Holy Blood, Holy Grail. Relics of Repentance, James F. Forcucci Contains the letters of Claudia Procula, the wife of Pontius Pilate. The Church of Mary Magdalene, Jean Markale Poet and philosopher Jean Markale’s quest for the sacred feminine in Rennes-le-Château. The Gospel of Mary Magdalene and The Gospel of Philip, Jean-Yves Leloup Highly readable French scholarly analyses of important Gnostic material. Nostradamus and the Lost Templar Legacy, Rudy Cambier Professor Cambier explores the prophecies of the Expected One from another angle. Who Wrote the Gospels?, Randel McCraw Helms Fascinating theories from a noted scholar on the authorship of the Gospels. Jesus and the Lost Goddess, Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy Well-researched alternative theories, also provides excellent resource list. Botticelli, Frank Zollner The ultimate coffee table book, with gorgeous reproductions of the art and great analysis of Sandro’s life and career.

Aunque todo el mundo haya oído hablar de él y su nombre se cite con frecuencia, ¿cuantos habrán leído, siquiera por encima, su extraordinario conjunto de profecías?

Nostradamus, who was a French court physician at one point in his life, published a book of recipes in 1552. He claimed that the very fashionable golden colour was possible, as was dyeing hair black.

heard Nostradamus once say, with the sarcasm only he could pull off with such aplomb, that mortals are born crying, live complaining, and die disappointed.

When I was thirty-six, I met Michel de Nostradamus.

Nostradamus avait prédit la fin du monde pour l’été 1999. Comme chacun peut le constater, la terre continue de tourner et le bug du millénaire n’a pas causé trop de ravages. Le 11-Septembre a tout changé ; Saddam a été exécuté par ses compatriotes. En 2006, Liu Xiang a réalisé des miracles et en juillet 2011, Yao Ming a quitté la NBA. L’année du tremblement de terre du Sichuan, Zhang Yimou a conçu le spectacle de la cérémonie d’ouverture des jeux Olympiques au Nid d’Oiseau ; les crises monétaires internationales se sont succédé. Le Printemps arabe a éclaté. La fin du monde en 2012 annoncée par les Mayas ne s’est pas produite. Le grand « tsar » Poutine a annexé la Crimée ; l’État islamique a déclenché l’afflux des réfugiés en Europe. Leonardo DiCaprio a obtenu un oscar ; le prix Nobel de littérature a été attribué à Bob Dylan ; les frères Wachowski – que Ye Xiao adore – se sont d’abord transformés en frère et sœur, pour finalement devenir sœurs. Ce 14 août 2017, il s’est écoulé dix-huit ans depuis le jour où, selon Nostradamus, la fin du monde devait arriver.

A warning of the dangers of woolly thinking, and the loss of our capacity to discriminate for fear of offending others. This will lead to the downfall of democracy under the false guise of inclusion.

All history is therefore fiction disguised as fact, but actually representing the historians’ best shot at an almost-truth.

According to the astronomical figure drawn above, you will see fully that it shows that the theft of the sacred objects has been perpetrated with the collusion of two of your brothers of the Church—indeed, ones who have previously extended to you private counsel on several occasions as to what had befallen your silver.

Sadly we can never predict falling in love Nostradamus.

It had been drilled into us that to feel fear is to not fully trust God. Whoever made that up has never been beneath a cafeteria table with a tiny thread of someone else's blood trickling onto their leg.

Indeed, the hereditary gift of prophecy will go to the grave with me. ~ Nostradamus  

Entonces triunfará María, Madre de Dios (a la que Nostradamus indica como una curiosa perífrasis, siendo «maría» el plural del nombre latino «mare»), de la cual se ha dicho que «las puertas del Infierno no prevalecerán contra ella».

and

And if you were such a good clairvoyant, why didn't you just write things straight out? What's with all the stupid rhyming quatrains? Thanks for nothing.

If you want to get close to somebody, you have to tell him or her something intimate about yourself. They'll tell you something intimate in return, and if you keep this going, maybe you'll end up in love.

This is not an apartment in which fresh vegetables are consumed. It smells like a dead spice rack.

The heart of a man is like deep water.

Just imagine how it must feel to know that your family won't be going to heaven with you- I mean, truly believing that. We're ghosts to him. We might a well be dead.

Crawl to your God, you arrogant bastard. See if your God doesn't look at the slime trail you leave behind you and throw you to the buzzards. You heartless, sad little man. You don't even have a soul. You killed it years ago. I want you to die. You got that? I want you to die.

One contradiction of the human heart is this: God refuses to see any one person as unique in his or her relationship to Him, and yet we humans see each other as bottomless wells of creativity and uniqueness.

July 3rd, 1566 Salon-de-Provence, France St. Michel Chapel 0300 hours   Brother Jean-Baptiste Chevalier would be dead in less than an hour. Had he known that would be the result, he would never have

This is your Captain speaking,” Eagle Eye’s voice crackled. “We will be landing at Suvarnabhumi International in thirty-minutes. Please put all overhead projectors away and stow any firearms that may frighten the other passengers.

As far as size goes, to gain access to the complex we’re going to cross the 623 foot moat, using the stone causeway. Once across we simply need to search the 203 acres of land and temple for any sign of what we may be looking for.

«Kjerringa veide et tonn,» utbrøt stesønnen og satte en nyåpnet juicekartong for munnen. Den dagen Jesper skulle lære å helle skvipet i et glass, kjente ikke engang Nostradamus.

Lately he felt like a throwback, a remnant of less tumultuous times when countries on the other side of the globe were not competing to prove his favorite astrologer and prophet, Nostradamus, was right, that total world destruction would begin in the Middle East.

Romano Pontífice, guárdate de acercarte A la ciudad regada por dos ríos: Tu sangre vendrá allí cerca a esputar, Cuando florezca la rosa, tú y los tuyos.

People are leaky.

Gücünü halktan alan hiçbir hareket durdurulamaz.