I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
The soul of the just man is but a paradise, in which, God tells us, He takes His delight. What do you imagine, must that dwelling be in which a King so mighty, so wise, and so pure, containing in Himself all good, can delight to rest? Nothing can be compared to the great beauty and capabilities of a soul; however keen our intellects may be, they are as unable to comprehend them as to comprehend God, for, as He told us, He created us in his own image and likeness.
Souls are dangerous things to carry straight through all the spilt saltpetre of this world.
And I have written three books on the soul, Proving absurd all written hitherto, And putting us to ignorance again.
The soul of man is not a thing which comes and goes, is builded and decays like the elemental frame in which it is set to dwell, but a very living force, a very energy of God's organic will, which rules and moulds this universe.
Virtue is the health of the soul.
To me the external existence of my soul is proved from my idea of activity. If I work incessantly until my death, nature will give me another form of existence when the present can no longer sustain my spirit.
The great secret...is not having bad manners or good manners...but having the same manner for all human souls.
A single soul is richer than all the worlds.
The mind wears the colors of the soul, as a valet those of his master.
Don't ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is more people who have come alive
Words are a pretext. It is the inner bond that draws one person to another, not words.
Movement never lies. It is a barometer telling the state of the soul's weather to all who can read it.
For this is the true strength of guilty kings, When they corrupt the souls of those they rule.
Until you know that life is interesting - and find it so - you haven't found your soul.
I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!
And more than once in the course of time, the same theme reappears: among the mystics of the fifteenth century, it has become the motif of the soul as a skiff, abandoned on the infinite sea of desires, in the sterile field of cares and ignorance, among the mirages of knowledge, amid the unreason of the world - a craft at the mercy of the sea's great madness, unless it throws out a solid anchor, faith, or raises its spiritual sails so that the breath of God may bring it to port.
Your soul is infinitely creative. It is alive and expansive in nature. It is curious and playful, changing with the tides of time.
Wherever you go, go with all your heart.
Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.
As sight is in the eye, so is the mind in the soul!
Just as a mirror, which reflects all things, is set in its own container, so too the rational soul is placed in the fragile container of the body. In this way, the body is governed in its earthly life by the soul, and the soul contemplates heavenly things through faith.
Dear Night! this world's defeat; The stop to busy fools; care's check and curb; The day of spirits; my soul's calm retreat Which none disturb! Christ's progress, and His prayer-time; The hours to which high Heaven cloth chime.
Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee! . . . . . . Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart: So didst thou travel on life's common way In cheerful godliness.
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