Suspense Gift Quotes

David, you have been so kind to me and this gift will always be treasured. I have one last request. Could you show me some of the secret ways in and out of the castle?” As he spoke the words, the image of the spark of red light appearing from the depths of the castle sprang to his mind again, together with the whispered words, “I am here, Audun.” He knew that one day he would have to return to Aldene and learn the secret of what lay in the deep dungeon below the castle

Woe unto all who have walked by the water but not gotten wet, for the sea of tears is now dry, and all who try to fill their bowls will know thirst.

The woman looked her in the eyes. She never moved her lips, but Vera could hear her say, “Stay away from them shadows; that’s where he lives. That’s where he gets his power.

Your true face,” she said. He replied, “Yes, the ‘face’ that God sees when he talks to me.

Because if evil like that is real, then God has to be real too.

Sometimes, 'someday' means 'I know it will never happen'.

A perverse sensation glided across his skin. It wanted to search deeper until Ryan understood that this presence wanted to do more than that: it wanted him. Normally he was the one that could touch and get to know objects or people. But this temple was also exercising the same gift on him.

Kejujuran tak selamanya melegakan. Adakalanya kejujuran jauh lebih menyedihkan dan mengerikan dari kebohongan

Kadang kala selembar foto bisa menjadi benda mengerikan, hanya karena kemampuannya menghadirkan sosok yang tiada menjadi ada.

Highly creative people have a gift for connecting supposedly unrelated elements and ideas. They cross borders without regard for customs posts or No Trespassing signs. They throw suspension bridges across great distances. These elegant and unexpected combinations flow together beautifully in the twilight zone, where metaphor and resemblance rules in place of logic and classification.

Sialnya, seringkali cinta bisa membuat segala kebohongan bisa dimaklumi.

Cinta bisa membuatmu melakukan apa pun, termasuk melukai sosok yang kau cintai.

Francesca was...extraordinary. A gift. A miracle. She just gave herself to him. He was connected to her through their shadows and he knew how she felt. Frightened, bordering on terror. Still, he mattered to her. She saw him, not the Stefano the rest of the world saw, but the man inside who needed. Who didn't want to stand alone. She gave herself to that man.

Frailty and cruelty are our gifts to the world. Who is to say that suffering is not the greatest of all gifts from the gods?

Love,” he said, “is the darkest gift. It takes all that you are, and it destroys you.

Kendali pria atas wanita bukan terletak pada jabatan atau uang yang lebih besar. Tapi, pada bagaimana kemampuan si pria agar si wanita tidak bisa menyembunyikan apa pun darinya.

Only God is the Giver and Master of Creativity and imagination because they are gifts that can only come from Him Alone!

Now there was Grace. An unexpected gift. She was far more than he'd ever fantasized about. She was courageous and beautiful. Intelligent and no pushover.

We ambled on to the gift store where I found a t-shirt that tickled my fancy. I also fell in love with a pen holder that looked like a family of spotted Nessies. I asked the clerk to first wrap the pen holder in some tissue paper and then in the t-shirt. My heart would be broken if it didn’t survive the trip back home. There were some things a woman cannot live without.

Vittorio had recognized early on he had a gift. His voice could be compelling, or commanding, and those in a room reacted to it. He could calm others down, arouse or infuriate, all with his tone.

She put her hand in his, and he smiled. It was as if for her, the sun came out. His smile took her breath and made her inexplicably happy because, she sensed, he rarely smiled and it was like a gift.

body and heart wide open, trusting him to be gentle and cherish her with his much stronger body. Recognizing what a gift that was, he kissed her tenderly in reassurance, fighting back the need raging inside him.

I think about the story I always tell her – of the kind lady who gave her to us. I suppose that must be how she imagines her father – as a kind man who gave her away too, as if she were a gift. Only now he wants her back.

It was rather like a forced-on numbness of spirit. The long, long stress of a gale does it; the suspense of the interminably culminating catastrophe; and there is a bodily fatigue in the mere holding on to existence within the excessive tumult; a searching and insidious fatigue that penetrates deep into a man's breast to cast down and sadden his heart, which is incorrigible, and of all the gifts of the earth - even before life itself - aspires to peace.

She didn't think she had anything to offer him. He got that. She had no money, no family, nothing at all in her eyes. Yet she gave him this magnificent gift - her and her trust, when she had no reason to trust anyone, least of all him.

He must have been someone I trusted at one time." "But you don't now?" "I can't. Not until I remember how I ended up so badly wounded where you found me. You've seen how strong I am, Susan. How fast I can move. Do you really think an enemy could have gotten the jump on me without a little assistance?" She hadn't thought of it like that. It was a valid point. "No. I'm still hoping he's a friend though. You need someone you can trust." Smiling, he touched her cheek. "I already have someone I trust. You." She clasped his wrists and turned her head, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Flirt." He winked. "Just wait until I confirm I'm not married. Then I'll take flirting to a whole new level." "Hell yes, you will," she declared. He laughed.

She had no idea what a gift she'd just given him. She was the one he'd searched for. She was the one he hadn't believed could possibly exist. She had strength, a backbone of steel, and yet she could put herself in his hands and give him what he needed in their relationship.

The summer getting is good, but no amount of talk or trade will encourage Mary to let any of the family up the trail, not today, today is important. The tables arranged in a circle. A bell placed under a special chair in the centre. Those lucky four allowed to come are dressed all in black like Mary and her husband. Mary stands on a box staring through a wall. It was her idea to remove the eyes from the white wolf portrait. It was beautiful and if Mary had of paid she might have thought twice before putting a knife to it, but it was a gift, Tabbot's has a secret admirer.

Retreat is a form of pause—it is a time apart in solitude, a precious space in which we can see our world in a different light—acknowledge the grief, celebrate the gifts, and honor our own unique spirit without worrying about how others see us or what jobs still have to be done. For me, retreat is a time to endure suspense; find, not seek; relish what comes by chance; repair body and soul; wait patiently; and live into the questions. It is a time to get acquainted with silence—that friend we’ve kept at a distance; a time to be open to the spaciousness of a day; a time to live on the other side, in another world, where spirit, deep thought, and a new kind of wonder can flourish. Above all, retreat is a time to honor all that we have experienced and the way it affects our hearts. Webster’s dictionary defines “retreat” as the “act or process of withdrawal . . . a receding from a position” to a place that affords peace, privacy, and security. But I prefer Jennifer Louden’s assertion that retreat is “an act of self-nurturing, a radical leap into the hallowed halls of selfhood.

I think one of the greatest gifts our Creator has given us is the gift of anticipation and suspense. How boring life would be if we knew how it would all turn out in advance! The truth is that in life, we never know what’s going to happen next! In the next few moments, something could happen that could change the entire direction and quality of your life in an instant. We must learn to love change, for it is the only thing that is certain.

My childhood wasn’t a movie, of course, though it did have chase sequences, fight scenes, shoot-outs, skyjacking, life and death suspense, and suicide. The plot didn’t make much sense to me as a boy, but it does now. It turns out I was attending an academy of sorts, and though hopefully on different subjects, so were you. No matter what your major, you too have been studying people for a long time, carefully developing theories and strategies to predict what they might do.

1.      Establishing artificial time constraints: Allow the person being targeted to feel that there is an end in sight. 2.      Accommodating nonverbals: Ensure that both your body language as well as your voice is non-threatening.           3.      Slower rate of speech: Don’t oversell and talk too fast. You lose credibility quickly and come on too strong and threatening. 4.      Sympathy or assistance theme: Human beings are genetically coded to provide assistance and help. It also appeals to their ego that they may know more than you. 5.      Ego suspension: Most likely the hardest technique but without a doubt the most effective. Don’t build yourself up, build someone else up and you will have strong rapport. 6.      Validate others: Human beings crave being connected and accepted. Validation feeds this need and few give it. Be the great validator and have instant, great rapport. 7.      Ask… How? When? Why? : When you want to dig deep and make a connection, there is no better or safer way than asking these questions. They will tell you what they are willing to talk about. 8.      Connect with quid pro quo: Some people are just more guarded than others. Allow them to feel comfortable by giving a little about you. Don’t overdo it. 9.      Gift giving (reciprocal altruism): Human beings are genetically coded to reciprocate gifts given. Give a gift, either intangible or material, and seek a conversation and rapport in return. 10.  Managing expectations: Avoid both disappointment as well as the look of a bad salesman by ensuring that your methods are focused on benefitting the targeted individual and not you. Ultimately you will win, but your mindset needs to focus on them. You now have the top ten secrets on how to build rapport with anyone in just a few minutes.  There is nothing in these pages that

So if she was still alive after everything, what was she living for? To be terrified of life outside her front door? To hide behind a computer screen and miss out on the best gifts she’d been given?

Setiap orang butuh kambing hitam untuk penderitaan yang dia rasakan. Bukankah menyedihkan ketika kamu menderita dan tidak tahu harus menyalahkan siapa?

which went on to sell out within twenty-four hours. Carnance Books & Gifts placed a significant first order of

…I feel your spirit Close to mine Like an eternal gift …Loving you like that; Isn't it my right? …Love means touch And I've learned to not need a body …Even if pain can't go away Maybe it hurts less Loving you spiritually

In all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

In order to hear God speak you ought to be still in his presence,

praising, thanking God for his everlasting grace.

My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.

My mood was dark; I dumped the box in the boot and began the drive home. I was in a corner with no way out. Anger was bubbling away under the surface. Why did I have this damn gift? I never wanted it, and I didn't want it now. Why did I have to see Peter's spirit in the house? That's what started it all. I drove on, feeling more and more desperate. Everything was crumbling, closing in on me. I had a powerful urge to carry on driving, to where I didn't care, but that would mean leaving Sal. I couldn't abandon her and my unborn child.

A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at Your right hand, but it will not come near you.

The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble!

What's a fun surprise? Unexpected gifts, visits, food, experiences. Secrets bring despair. Surprises bring delight.

…the puzzle had been a gift from his father on his seventh birthday. The first time they’d completed it together was also their last.

She deserved to die. If the penalty for sin was death, she should’ve died a hundred times. She looked towards sky. Thankfully, God hadn’t given her what she deserved. He gave her grace and forgiveness. It was a gift, not because she earned it, but because of His love for her.

I was good. My brother was bad. My brother knew that the teachers and school cops treated us differently because of our oversized clothes and natural hair. He defended himself in defied them. They responded with repeated punishment through suspensions. I decided I would prove the teachers wrong by earning good grades and becoming a lawyer one day. After I scored high on gifted and talented tests, everything changed. Our home filled with my laminated citizenship certificates, academic awards, sports trophies, and medals. The celebration of my obedience increased my brother's justifiable defiance and the school's punishment. I wish we would have both known then how to organize. Maybe I would have resisted the urge to be respectable.

Later in the day, Holly frowned at her reflection in the mirror. “This can’t be right!” Holly muttered to herself. She looked like a cross between a panda bear and a raccoon. She had tried to apply a more advanced version of makeup than she was used to, and it was not going well. “Smokey eye, my foot! I look like I have two black eyes.” She had not done the proper shading with her eye shadow, and now her large green eyes were encased with a deep black color that spanned her entire eyelid. “Maybe I should try a different one,” Holly mused aloud. She sat in William’s bedroom at his dresser. She already had on her pretty crushed velvet black dress and a small heart-shaped diamond pendant. It had been William’s birthday gift to her last year. “Let me re-read this article again to see if I can make sense of these instructions.” Holly read her magazine article out loud. “Which Greek Goddess are you? Athena, Venus, or Aphrodite? Check out our makeup tips below to turn heads at your next event!” “Hmmmm, that sounds soooooo good, if only I was better at applying makeup.” She had decided to try their Aphrodite look and had been trying to apply the eyeliner to give her a smoky eye effect. Holly had to wash her face four times already and start over because each time was worse than the last. “Concentrate, Holly, or you’ll be late for the gala. This is your last chance; it’s do or die time!” she warned her reflection in the mirror. “So, it says to put the light grey eyeshadow on the inner one-third of my eyelids. Hmmm, maybe that’s the problem. I don’t know where the inner third is.” She got an idea and went to William’s desk. Looking around, she found a ruler. “Ah-ha! Eureka, I got it!” She went back to her position at his dresser and closed her eyes for a quick, small prayer, then held the ruler up to measure her eye. “Ah-ha! Twenty-one millimeters. So, that means the inner one-third of my eye must be from my nose out seven millimeters . . . right about HERE!” Holly expertly applied the light grey eye shadow to the inner third of her eyelids. “What a big improvement already! Wow! I’m not a panda bear anymore! Ok, one-third down, two-thirds to go . . . I can do this!” Reading further, she said, “Ok, now apply the dark grey eye shadow to the next third of your eye, finishing with the dark brown eye shadow on the outer third of your eyelid.” Holly expertly followed the instructions and sat back in her chair, stunned. She looked beautiful! She had achieved the desired effect, and now her green eyes were enhanced to perfection. “Wow, wow, wow!” Holly felt encouraged to keep going. She read the next instructions. “‘Now, apply blush to your face with an emphasis on contouring your cheekbones.’” “‘Contouring my cheekbones? Who do they think I am, Rembrandt?” Holly said with a groan. Holly gingerly picked up her blush container as if it were about to bite her. She decided another quick prayer wouldn’t go amiss. With a deep breath she muttered, “Ok, I’m going in!” She glanced nervously at the picture in the magazine and tried her hardest to follow it along her cheekbones. “That turned out pretty good!” Holly turned her face this way and that, examining it. It may not have been exactly as in the picture, but the blush now accentuated her beautiful high cheekbones. “Whew! Only the lip left, thank goodness! You got this, Holly!” She encouraged her reflection in the mirror.

Everybody has scars; some are more visible than others, that’s all. But anyone without a scar is someone I don’t want to know because it’s someone who doesn’t feel things deeply. You have to understand loss to recognize a gift when you see it.” He leaned over and kissed her again. “You are my gift. I want to be yours, if you’ll let me.

The Potomac had taken away Linda and the boys. The Rio Negro had given him Daniela. One river had swallowed his heart; another river, halfway around the world, had gifted it back. A different heart, beaten up, scarred, but a beating heart at least.

A Sacrifice Made out of Love of Country is a Sacred Gift.

My grandmother used to say, "Don't frown, Ania, laughter is so much better for the world. Give your family and friends that gift always.

For all the downsides to being a rider, there was his family. Always there. Always ready to help and watch out for one another. His family was one of the biggest gifts he had to offer Grace.

On a bleak winter day, Dostoyevsky and his fellow prisoners were marched through the snow in front of the firing squad. As a military official shouted out the death sentences, a priest led each man to a platform, giving him an opportunity to kiss the cross the priest carried. Three of the prisoners were then marched forward and tied to a stake. Dostoyevsky looked on, realizing he would be next in line. He watched the soldiers pull the men’s caps down over their eyes. He felt revulsion in his stomach as the firing squad lifted their rifles, adjusted their aim, and stood ready to pull the triggers. Out of suffering and defeat often comes victory. Frozen in suspense, Dostoyevsky waited for what seemed like a lifetime. Then he heard the drums start up again. But they were beating retreat! He watched, stunned, as the firing squad lowered their rifles and the soldiers removed the prisoners’ caps from their eyes. Their lives—and his—would be spared.2 Immediately after this incident, Dostoyevsky wrote a letter to his brother about the change the experience had worked in him: “When I look back on my past and think how much time I wasted on nothing, how much time has been lost in futilities, errors, laziness, incapacity to live; how little I appreciated it, how many times I sinned against my heart and soul—then my heart bleeds. Life is a gift. … Now, in changing my life, I am reborn in a new form. Brother! I swear that I will not lose hope and will keep my soul and heart pure. I will be reborn for the better. That’s all my hope, all my consolation!