Comforting Quotes

Quotes tagged as "comforting" Showing 1-30 of 56
Criss Jami
“Listen to God with a broken heart. He is not only the doctor who mends it, but also the father who wipes away the tears.”
Criss Jami

J.R.R. Tolkien
“For myself, I find I become less cynical rather than more--remembering my own sins and follies; and realize that men's hearts are not often as bad as their acts, and very seldom as bad as their words.”
Tolkien J.R.R., The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien

Joseph Smith Jr.
“Peace be unto thy soul; thine adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment;

And then, if thou endure it well, God shall exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.

Thy friends do stand by thee...'
-Jesus the Christ”
Joseph Smith Jr., The Doctrine and Covenants of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints

“When grief impounds our thinking and eats our brains, it seeps through all the cracks of our daily living. Only the soothing wind of comforting words may counter the withering twilight and the frostiness of darkness. ("All the words he always wanted to tell her.")”
Erik Pevernagie

Alice Hoffman
“It was as if hope had appeared out of nowhere to settle beside her and it wasn't going anywhere, it wasn't going to desert her now.”
Alice Hoffman

Jaymin Eve
“Go to sleep, dweller-baby. I’ll kill Elowin as soon as we find her.” He didn’t sound like he was kidding. Each word was low and laced with truth.

“Next time, just say like … sleep well, or something normal,” I said. “Not go to sleep, I’ll be murdering someone in no time. It doesn’t sound as comforting as you think it does.”
Jaymin Eve, Trickery

Deborah Day
“Encourage, lift and strenthen one another. For the positive energy spread to one will be felt by us all.”
Deborah Day

Jacques Ellul
“No matter what God's power may be, the first aspect of God is never that of the absolute Master, the Almighty. It is that of the God who puts himself on our human level and limits himself.”
Jacques Ellul, Anarchy and Christianity

Miss Read
“Thoughts by a graveside are too dark and deep to be sustained for any length of time. Sooner or later the hurt mind turns to the sun for healing, and this is as it should be, for otherwise, what future could any of us hope for, but madness?”
Miss Read, Village School

Jamie Arpin-Ricci
“All too often, when faced with the sadness and suffering of others, we rush to offer comfort in order to ease our own discomfort. While we are no doubt motivated by good intentions, too often we hope to relieve the awkwardness and rawness of the other's suffering. We want to give advice, to solve the problem, to fix what is broken as much to relieve our own discomfort as to genuinely help the other's hurt. Instead, Jesus invites us to come alongside, identify with those suffering and join them in their mourning.”
Jamie Arpin-Ricci, The Cost of Community: Jesus, St. Francis and Life in the Kingdom

Susan Wiggs
“She knew the soothing power of a human touch on aching flesh. Knew the strange bond that formed when two creatures united in mutual need, one hurting, the other healing.”
Susan Wiggs, At the King's Command

Charlotte Brontë
“Worn out with this torture of thought, I rose to my knees. Night was come, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night; too serene for the companionship of fear. We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us: and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence. I had risen to my knees to pray for Mr. Rochester. Looking up, I, with tear-dimmed eyes, saw the mighty Milky Way. Remembering what it was--what countless systems there swept space like a soft trace of light--I felt the might and strength of God. Sure was I of His efficiency to save what He had made: convinced I grew that neither earth should perish, nor one of the souls it treasured. I turned my prayer to thanksgiving: the Source of Life was also the Saviour of spirits. Mr. Rochester was safe: he was God's, and by God would he be guarded.”
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Gina Greenlee
“Never underestimate the lingering effects of a dash of spontaneous comfort.”
Gina Greenlee, Postcards and Pearls: Life Lessons from Solo Moments on the Road

Caryll Houselander
“Soeur Marie Emelie"

Soeur Marie Emelie
is little and very old:
her eyes are onyx,
and her cheeks vermilion,
her apron wide and kind
and cobalt blue.

She comforts
generations and generations
of children,
who are
"new"
at the convent school.
When they are eight,
they are already up to her shoulder,
they grow up and go into the world,
she remains,
forever,
always incredibly old,
but incredibly never older...
She has an affinity with the hens,
When a hen dies,she sits down on a bench and cries,
she is the only grown-up, whose tears
are not frightening tears.
Children can weep without shame,
at her side...
Soeur Marie Emelie...
her apron as wide and kind
as skies on a summer day
and as clean and blue.”
Caryll Houselander, The Flowering Tree

Sara Teasdale
“When I am not with you
I am alone,
For there is no one else
And there is nothing
That comforts me but you.
When you are gone
Suddenly I am sick,
Blackness is round me,
There is nothing left.
I have tried many things,
Music and cities,
Stars in their constellations
And the sea,
But there is nothing
That comforts me but you;
And my poor pride bows down
Like grass in a rain-storm
Drenched with my longing.
The night is unbearable,
Oh let me go to you
For there is no one,
There is nothing
To comfort me but you.”
Sara Teasdale, The Collected Poems

Mona Soorma
“True love is like a bird of many colours, at times, soft and comforting, at others, wild and intense. Yet, it is a fire we all desire.
Don’t be afraid of its intense force. It is a spark that consumes the heart, but it quenches the thirst of the seeking soul.”
Mona Soorma, Soul Food And Instant Karma

Lucy Lennox
“That was one of the shitty aspects of being single. No one to touch, no warm body to cling to on a cold night in bed, no one to complain to when things didn't go your way.”
Lucy Lennox, Felix and the Prince

Lisa Kleypas
“She was swamped by a feeling of utter hopelessness as she waited for him to destroy her with a few caustic words. But he continued to watch her silently, his face unreadable. It seemed almost as if he were waiting for some cue from her. The dilemma lasted for several seconds, until Sara solved it by bursting into tears. She jerked her hands up to her face, blotting her streaming eyes. "I'm so sorry," she gasped.
Suddenly he was next to her, touching her shoulders and arms lightly and then jerking his hands back as if burned. "No, don't. Don't. You're all right now." Gingerly he reached out to pat her back. "Don'y cry. Everything's fine. Bloody hell. Don't do that."
As she continued to weep, Derek hovered over her in baffled dismay. He excelled at seducing women, charming and deceiving them, breaking down their defenses... everything but comforting them. No one had ever required it of him. "There, now," he muttered, as he had heard Lily Raiford say a thousand times to her crying children. "There, now."
Suddenly she was leaning on him, her small head testing at the center of his chest. The long skeins of her hair draped everywhere, entangling him in a fine russet web. Alarmed, he lifted his hands to ease her away. Instead his arms slid around her until she was pressed against him length to length. "Miss Fielding," he said with great effort. "Sara..." She nestled deeper against him, muffling her gulping sobs in his shirtfront.
Derek swore and furtively pressed his lips to the top of her head. He concentrated on the chilly night air, but his loins began to throb with an all-too-familiar pain. It was impossible to stay indifferent to the feel of her body molded to his. He was a bloody charlatan... no gentleman, no chivalrous comforter of women, only a scoundrel filled with raw desire. He smoothed his hand over her hair and urged her head into his shoulder until she was in danger of being smothered. "It's all right," he said gruffly. "Everything's fine now. Don't cry anymore.”
Lisa Kleypas, Dreaming of You

Clarice Lispector
“But now I want to say things that comfort me and that are a little free. For example: Thursdat is a day transparent as an insect's wing in the light. Just as Monday is a compact day. Ultimately, far beyond thought, I live from these ideas, if ideas is what they are. They are sensations that transform into ideas because I must use words. Even just using them mentally. The primary thought thinks with words.”
Clarice Lispector

David Clawson
“I will say this about that moment when you realize your worst nightmare has proven to be reality— it can be oddly comforting. After all, once you’ve hit rock bottom and lived, there’s only one place you can go, and that’s up.”
David Clawson, My Fairy Godmother Is a Drag Queen

Mokokoma Mokhonoana
“Not having expected an event makes it seem way better or worse than it really is.”
Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“لأني أعرف حزنك أكثر من أي أحد أعجز عن مواساتك أكثر من أي أحد.”
عائشة الجغيمان, خارج الطقس

T.J. Silba
“SOAR"
Soar now among angels and rest in God's arms,
free from this world, suffer no more.....
Walk in the light and fell the warmth of God's love... no pain, no worry. You are truly free.
"SOAR NOW"
Your spirit is one with God, and from on high, may angels comfort you......
Because of you, this world is a better place
You made "life" better
You made "people" better...
You were a special blessing on this earth and you brought happiness, joy, love and laughter...
as only you could bring.
We look up and we see you in the heavens!
Your smile, your face........and God is beside you!
Your spirit and soul are at peace and you are forever free to soar.
SOAR NOW!

Tjsilba, Collections of Life”
T.J. Silba

Lisa Kleypas
“She looked up at Christopher compassionately. "I think your problem will fade in time, as mine has. And then it might come back every once in a while, but only briefly. It won't always be this bad."
Torchlight flickered in Christopher's eyes as he stared at her. He reached out and drew her close with slow, stunning tenderness. One of his hands cradled her jaw, his long fingers textured with calluses. To Beatrix's bewilderment, he eased her head against his shoulder. His arms were around her, and nothing had ever felt so wonderful. She leaned against him in a daze of pleasure, feeling the even rise and fall of his chest. He toyed with the tiny wisps at the nape of her neck, the brush of his thumb on her skin sending a rapturous quiver down her spine.”
Lisa Kleypas, Love in the Afternoon

Howard Bahr
“Anna thought about the men outside on the gallery. She was glad they were there; finding them smoking and talking quietly had been comforting, it was what men did in the evenings when the work was done. Of course, the work was not done, and she doubted that it ever would be. It would go on and on, even after the house was emptied of strangers, long after the wildflowers had blossomed a hundred times on their graves.”
Howard Bahr, The Black Flower: A Novel of the Civil War

Lisa Kleypas
“She was swamped by a feeling of utter hopelessness as she waited for him to destroy her with a few caustic words. But he continued to watch her silently, his face unreadable. It seemed almost as if he were waiting for some cue from her. The dilemma lasted for several seconds, until Sara solved it by bursting into tears. She jerked her hands up to her face, blotting her streaming eyes. "I'm so sorry," she gasped.
Suddenly he was next to her, touching her shoulders and arms lightly and then jerking his hands back as if burned. "No, don't. Don't. You're all right now." Gingerly he reached out to pat her back. "Don't cry. Everything's fine. Bloody hell. Don't do that."
As she continued to weep, Derek hovered over her in baffled dismay. He excelled at seducing women, charming and deceiving them, breaking down their defenses... everything but comforting them. No one had ever required it of him. "There, now," he muttered, as he had heard Lily Raiford say a thousand times to her crying children. "There, now."
Suddenly she was leaning on him, her small head testing at the center of his chest. The long skeins of her hair draped everywhere, entangling him in a fine russet web. Alarmed, he lifted his hands to ease her away. Instead his arms slid around her until she was pressed against him length to length. "Miss Fielding," he said with great effort. "Sara..." She nestled deeper against him, muffling her gulping sobs in his shirtfront.
Derek swore and furtively pressed his lips to the top of her head. He concentrated on the chilly night air, but his loins began to throb with an all-too-familiar pain. It was impossible to stay indifferent to the feel of her body molded to his. He was a bloody charlatan... no gentleman, no chivalrous comforter of women, only a scoundrel filled with raw desire. He smoothed his hand over her hair and urged her head into his shoulder until she was in danger of being smothered. "It's all right," he said gruffly. "Everything's fine now. Don't cry anymore.”
Lisa Kleypas, Dreaming of You

Cecelia Ahern
“My friends' hugs are longer and tighter; consist of extra squeezes and pats, which alternate between a circular rubbing motion and a light pitter-pattering on the back, both of which I find surprisingly comforting.”
Cecelia Ahern, Thanks for the Memories

Adiela Akoo
“I love listening to the sound of your heart beating, the comforting memory of a cuddling womb.”
Adiela Akoo, Lost in a Quatrain: Poetry Anthology

Nastasia Botha
“she is always here; in the sparkle of your eyes, in the beating of your heart, you can hear her voice in the whisper of the wind and the tap trickle of the rain. She is where you are.”
Nastasia Botha, Growing Hope Anthology

Joanne Harris
“Instead I turned my attention back to the copper of peach jam, releasing its autumnal scent. Peach is perhaps the most perfect fruit for making jam: sweet, yet firm; the golden flesh turning to a darker burnt-orange with cooking. My method allows the pieces of fruit to stay intact during the process, while retaining all the flavor. Today, we will leave the sugar and peach mixture to steep under a sheet of muslin; tomorrow, we will cook it, then ladle it into clean glass jars to put away for the winter.
There's something very comforting about the ritual of jam-making. It speaks of cellars filled with preserves; of neat rows of jars on pantry shelves. It speaks of winter mornings and bowls of chocolat au lait, with thick slices of good fresh bread and last year's peach jam, like a promise of sunshine at the darkest point of the year. It speaks of four stone walls, a roof, and of seasons that turn in the same place, in the same way, year after year, with sweet familiarity. It is the taste of home.”
Joanne Harris, Peaches for Father Francis

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