Sol wanted to know how any ethical system — much less a religion so indomitable that it had survived every evil mankind could throw at it — could flow from a command from God for a man to slaughter his son. It did not matter to Sol that the command had been rescinded at the last moment. It did not matter that the command was a test of obedience. In fact, the idea that it was the obedience of Abraham which allowed him to become the father of all the tribes of Israel was precisely what drove Sol into fits of fury. . Dan Simmons
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
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Anonymous
Sometimes God allows what he hates to accomplish what he loves.
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Joni Eareckson Tada
No woman wants to be in submission to a man who isn't in submission to God!
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T.d. Jakes
His hands are holding my cheeks, and he pulls back just to look me in the eye and his chest is heaving and he says, "I think, " he says, "my heart is going to explode, " and I wish, more than ever, that I...
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Tahereh Mafi
Why is there ever this perverse cruelty in humankind, that makes us hurt most those we love best?
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Jacqueline Carey
More Quotes By Dan Simmons
To see and feel one's beloved naked for the first time is one of life's pure, irreducible epiphanies. If there is a true religion in the universe, it must include that truth of contact or be forever hollow. To make love to the one true...
I wish we had the technology to fight God on an equal basis. To beard him in his den. To fight back for all of the injustices heaped on humanity. To allow him to alter his smug arrogance or be blown to hell.
There would be no more offerings. Not this day. Not any day. Humankind had suffered enough for its love of gods, its long search for God. <span style="margin:15px; display:block"></span>He thought of the many centuries in which his people, the Jews, had negotiated with God, complaining,...
When the last autumn of Dickens's life was over, he continued to work through his final winter and into spring. This is how all of us writers give away the days and years and decades of our lives in exchange for stacks of paper with...
In the beginning was the Word. Then came the fucking word processor. Then came the thought processor. Then came the death of literature. And so it goes.
