Simone Veil Quotes

Jace looked around uneasily at the walls hung with veils, fans, tiaras, and seed-pearl-encrusted trains. “Everything is .. .so white.” “Of course it’s white,” said Simon. “It’s a wedding.” “White for Shadowhunters is the color of funerals,” Luke explained. “But for mundanes, Jace, it’s the color of weddings. Brides wear white to symbolize their purity.” “I thought Jocelyn said her dress wasn’t white,” Simon said. “Well,” said Jace, “I suppose that ship has sailed.

I have so much to tell you. But time is short. And the Veil is thick. And it takes magic to speak, a soul full of it.

Magnificent opportunity is often obscured by a humble veil...

But in another, much stronger way, I still wanted to be outside, away from their sidelong looks and veiled references that I only barely understood.

My house was built by a partnership called Desire and Ignorance; they often work together, and always with disastrous consequences. It’s surprising they aren’t more talked of in the press. They are great survivors but incompetent builders. Desire is famous only for pursuing pleasure and avoiding pain, while Ignorance casts a veil over all his unexamined assumptions and makes wrong ones every hour. Together, they created the psychological reality where I live. Hardly a surprise, therefore, if it’s unfit for purpose!

Dire que tout le monde est coupable revient à dire que personne ne l’est. C’est la solution désespérée d’une Allemande qui cherche à tout prix à sauver son pays, à noyer la responsabilité nazie dans une responsabilité plus diffuse, si impersonnelle qu’elle finit par ne plus rien signifier. La mauvaise conscience générale permet à chacun de se gratifier d’une bonne conscience individuelle : ce n’est pas moi qui suis responsable, puisque tout le monde l’est.

Even in this age of religious fervour, foreigners were amazed by the ritualistic piety of the Russians and their severe code of behaviour. Russian men wore long beards, as sacred tribute to God, and long robes, kaftans, with pleated sleeves that hung almost to the floor, on their heads sable or black-fox hats. Musical instruments and smoking were banned and noblewomen, whether virgins or wives, were restricted to their family terem, the separate living quarters of Muscovite women, where they were veiled and hidden

Physical work is a specific contact with the beauty of the world, and can even be, in its best moments, a contact so full that no equivalent can be found elsewhere. The artist, the scholar, the philosopher, the contemplative should really admire the world and pierce through the film of unreality that veils it and makes of it, for nearly all men at nearly every moment of their lives, a dream or stage set. They ought to do this but more often than not they cannot manage it. He who is aching in every limb, worn out by the effort of a day of work, that is to say a day when he has been subject to matter, bears the reality of the universe in his flesh like a thorn. The difficulty for him is to look and to love. If he succeeds, he loves the Real

Households were supposedly run according to the joyless Domostroi, household rules written by a sixteenth-century monk, which specified that “disobedient wives should be severely whipped” while virtuous wives should be thrashed “from time to time but nicely in secret, avoiding blows from the fist that cause bruises.” Royal women were secluded in the terem, not unlike an Islamic harem. Heavily veiled, they watched church services through a grille; their carriages were hung with taffeta curtains so that they could not look out or be seen; and when they walked in church processions, they were concealed from public gaze by screens borne by servants. In the Terem Palace, they sewed all day, and would kneel before the Red Corner of icons when entering or leaving a room.

This need to be the creator of what we love is a need to imitate God. But the divinity towards which it tends is false, unless we have recourse to the model seen from the other, the heavenly side...

The twelve stay. They eat a final meal with Jesus, and with his hands he tears the unleavened bread and holds it up to them. 'This is my body,' he says. 'Remember me.' And he tells Simon that the adversary has asked to sift them all like wheat, but their faith will be restored. The next day the Christ is lifted up at Golgotha, nailed to a tree, dead before sunset. And when his Spirit leaves him, the temple curtain rends, a veil between God and man. Left exposed in the holiest place is the ark of the covenant, and in that, the manna given to the Hebrews in the desert, life-giving for those who ate of it, but only for a short while here on this earth. And the people remember his words on the shore of Capernaum: 'Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.' His body, crucified, given for them so they may taste eternity. Three days later, resurrected, so those who believe can come to his banquet table and be filled. His followers obey. They devote themselves to the breaking of the bread. They remember him each time they eat of it, and offer thanks. They are sustained in the world and rescued from the world because God became man, and man became bread.

There is an invisible, seemingly impenetrable veil between life and what comes after life, that is just beyond the grasp of our human consciousness and the realm of our physical senses. Our connection with the veil is a matter of faith, that (with apologies to Star Trek) truly is the last frontier. Faith is the most intriguing and ephemeral aspect of our existence because faith consists of beliefs that we hold, not facts that we can prove.

Cette image d'enfant favorite, voire un peu capricieuse, m'a longtemps collé à la peau. A tel point qu'à notre retour de déportation, lorsque ma soeur aîné a revu une amie, celle-ci a eu l'inconscience de lui lancer: "J'espère qu'au moins la déportation aura mis un peu de plomb dans la cervelle de Simone!" Losque Milou m'a rapporté la réflexion, j'ai été abasourdie. Quelle bizarre époque que ces années-là, où les gens n'avaient pas toujours conscience de l'impact de leurs propos.

But in Cairo this Arab Caligula turned on his entourage. Once, passing a butcher’s shop, he just took a cleaver and killed one of his courtiers without even stopping. Then he cancelled his anti-Jewish, anti-Christian decrees and enforced a new puritanism on the Cairenes. All women had to wear veils and alcohol was banned – a sign of how lax society had become in Cairo. He beheaded many of his own concubines, banned all singing and dancing, then forbade women from going out at all, even to shop. When they ignored his orders, they were killed. When they protested that they had to go out shopping, al-Hakim told them to order deliveries to the home – a caliphal version of Amazon. Other strange measures followed: his wasita (chief minister) and generals were frequently executed; cats and dogs were destroyed; eating watercress, grapes and fish without scales was banned.

Es difícil restituir con palabras esa felicidad, porque estaba hecha de atmósferas tranquilas, de pequeñas cosas, de confidencias entre nosotros, de risas compartidas, de momentos perdidos para siempre. Es el perfume evaporado de la infancia, doblemente difícil por lo terrible que fue lo que siguió.

Era como vivir dentro de una comunidad de contornos difusos, dentro de la cual los intercambios eran múltiples y cálidos.

Au fond, ce sont toujours aux faibles que l'on fait la morale, tandis qu'on finit par blanchir les puissants.

Le principe de réalité entrave l'initiative et l'action.

I watch myself in the mirrored walls, veiled, slide down to sit on the floor and dial the reception planner. “Checking to make sure you’ve arranged a place card and seat for Simone.” “Yes,” she says. “I’ve put her with the table you’ve labeled ‘one-offs.’” “Perfect.” I hang up. The doors slide open. The concierge’s voice trails me out of the elevator. “I’ve heard it’s good luck to say a rosary on the morning of your wedding. I have one at my desk if you…” Minutes down the tree-lined road, the groom is being mimosa-toasted in his aunt Henshaw’s home. The cake is in the shape of the lake. In the morning we’ll return to the city. Alone in the room, I switch the channel to a newscast and slide under the folded coverlet. From the shelf of sleep, I hear local news stories. Henrietta has opened a store during an unfriendly economic climate. Despite everyone’s predictions, she is doing well. In global news, in towns around the world, people prepare for different holidays amid varied architecture.

Simone Veil, who is beloved, and she only really earned a mention when she was buried in the Panthéon in 2018.

The question is, do you genuinely love him. Love him enough to allow him to participate in your pain?" Simon search Lisa's face for her unspoken words. "There is a saying - Love Gives!" He said. Lisa wrote in reply - Not sure what you are trying to say. What does that mean? "I mean that when you love someone, though you may want to spare that someone from sufferings of any sort because of your illness, you dare to love and trust that someone enough, to allow him to share in that pain of yours.