Where are we going?” Annabelle asked, resisting his hold on her wrist. “To the house. If they’re not willing to be witnesses, then it seems I’ll have to debauch you in front of someone else.
Rome tolerated every abominable practice, embraced every foul idea in the name of freedom and the rights of the common man. Citizens no longer carried on deviant behavior in private, but pridefully displayed it in public. It was those with moral values who could no longer freely walk in a public park without having to witness a revolting display. What happened to the public censors who protected the majority of citizenry from moral decadence? Did freedom have to mean abolishing common decency? Did freedom mean anyone could do anything they wanted anytime they wanted, without consequences?
One of the best possible perspectives from which to tell a story is that of a ghost, someone who is dead but can still witness.
Fear has no brains; it is an idiot. The dismal witness that it bears and the cowardly counsel that it whispers are unrelated.
The light was only just visible - except of course that there was no one to see, no witnesses, not this time, but it was nevertheless a light.
This Church is true. It will weather every storm that beats against it. It will outlast every critic who rises to mock it. It was established by God our Eternal Father for the blessing of His sons and daughters of all generations. It carries the name of Him who stands as its head, even the Lord Jesus Christ, the Savior of the world. It is governed and moves by the power of the priesthood. It sends forth to the world another witness of the divinity of the Lord. Be faithful, my friends. Be true. Be loyal to the great things of God which have been revealed in this dispensation.
Redtail was a brave warrior. His loyalty to ThunderClan could never be doubted. I always relied on his judgment, for it bore witness to the needs of the Clan, and was never swayed by self-interest or pride. He would have made a fine leader.
It’s the leftover humans. The survivors. They’re the ones I can’t stand to look at, although on many occasions I still fail. I deliberately seek out the colors to keep my mind off them, but now and then, I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair, and surprises. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs. Which in turn brings me to the subject I am telling you about tonight, or today, or whatever the hour and color. It’s the story of one of those perpetual survivors –an expert at being left behind.
When you listen to a witness, you become a witness.
I know how to be the witness to her grief. I don't know how to be this kind of villain.
You often say ; I would give , but only to the deserving, The trees in your orchard say not so , nor the flocks in your pasture. Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and nights is worthy of all else from you. And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream. See first that youyourself deserve to be a giver , and an insturument of giving. For in truth it is life that gives unto life-while you , who deem yourself a giver , is but a witness.
When we are securely rooted in personal intimacy with the source of life, it will be possible to remain flexible without being relativistic, convinced without being rigid, willing to confront without being offensive, gentle and forgiving without being soft, and true witnesses without being manipulative.
Gay people don’t actually try to convert people. That’s Jehovah’s Witnesses you’re thinking of.
For in truth it is life that gives unto life-while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.
You're like a witness. You're the one who goes to the museum and looks at the paintings. I mean the paintings are there and you're in the museum too, near and far away at the same time. I'm a painting. Rocamadour is a painting. Etienne is a painting, this room is a painting. You think that you're in the room but you're not. You're looking at the room, you're not in the room.
Perriwickturned to Penelope as he set the tray down on a table. "If I might be so bold, my lady-" "Perriwick!" Blake roared. "If I hear the phrase 'if I might be so bold' one more time, as God is my witness, I'm going to toss you into the channel!" "Oh dear," Penelope said. "Perhaps he does have the fever, after all.Perriwick , what do you think?" The butler reached for Blake's forehead, only to have his hand nearly bitten off. "Touch me and die," Blake snarled.
ATHENA: There are two sides to this dispute. I've heard only one half the argument. (...) So you two parties, summon your witnesses, set out your proofs, with sworn evidence to back your stories. Once I've picked the finest men in Athens, I'll return. They'll rule fairly in this case, bound by a sworn oath to act with justice.
There is, in lovers, a certain infatuation of egotism; they will have a witness of their happiness, cost that witness what it may.
Witness also that when we talk about literature, we do so in the present tense. When we speak of the dead, we are not so kind.
I let it all out--my mom's date,my dad's conversation,my confusion about it all.Caleb doesn't laugh,he doesn't pull away,he doesn't talk .. He just lets me be me. When I settle down,I lean back and witness the mess I've made on his shirt."I made ur shirt all gross," I say between sniffles. "Forget the shirt.What's going on? I could.nt understand a word you mumbled into my chest." Now I'm half laughing and half crying.
Children are most impressed with the importance of a moment when they witness a parent breaking the parents' own rule.
"So?" he asked. She was stunned and amazed - and happier than she'd ever been before. It couldn't possibly be real, she thought - unless she spoke the truth aloud, with Daniel and the rest of the fallen angels there to witness. "I'm Lucinda," she said. "I'm your angel."
There are many perks to living for twenty-one centuries, and foremost among them is bearing witness to the rare birth of genius. It invariably goes like this: Someone shrugs off the weight of his cultural traditions, ignores the baleful stares of authority, and does something his countrymen think to be completely batshit insane. Of those, Galileo was my personal favorite. Van Gogh comes in second, but he really was batshit insane.
I came to witness. I stay to fight.
For nothing is fixed, forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the moment we break faith with one another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.
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