#cram

Walter, who had been in the lead all day, was the first to scramble up; a native Alaskan, he is the first human being to set foot upon the top of Alaska's great mountain, and he had well earned the lifelong distinction. ↗

— Hudson Stuck

#all day #been #being #day #distinction

Lord, confound this surly sister, blight her brow with blotch and blister, cramp her larynx, lung and liver, in her guts a galling give her. ↗

— John Millington Synge

#blister #brow #confound #cramp #galling

The chains which cramp us most are those which weigh on us least. ↗

— Sophie Swetchine

#cramp #least #most #those #us

What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all; Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold. ↗

— Robert Browning

#cram #day #his #hold #hurry

The Incarnation is the medicine of the soul, undoing the Fall and bringing man to the Tree of Life, and the office of a priest is to administer this medicine in the sacraments. ↗

— Arthur Middleton

#bringing #fall #incarnation #life #man

As however the ancients say that in case of necessity any Christian lay person can administer the sacrament of Baptism, so Luther says the same thing about absolution in case of necessity, where no priest is present. ↗

— Martin Chemnitz

#absolution #administer #any #baptism #case

A slavish bondage to parents cramps every faculty of the mind. ↗

— Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

#cramps #every #faculty #mind #parents

Beauty, then, is not mere decoration, but rather an essential element of the liturgical action, since it is an attribute of God himself and his revelation. These considerations should make us realize the care which is needed, if the liturgical action is to reflect its innate splendour. ↗

— Pope Benedict XVI

#eucharist #god #liturgy #mass #sacrament

The tempo is the suitcase. If the suitcase is too small, everything is completely wrinkled. If the tempo is too fast, everything becomes so scrambled you can't understand it. ↗

— Daniel Barenboim

#completely #everything #fast #scrambled #small

Her eyes were of different colors, the left as brown as autumn, the right as gray as Atlantic wind. Both seemed alive with questions that would never be voiced, as if no words yet existed with which to frame them. She was nineteen years old, or thereabouts; her exact age was unknown. Her face was as fresh as an apple and as delicate as blossom, but a marked depression in the bones beneath her left eye gave her features a disturbing asymmetry. Her mouth never curved into a smile. God, it seemed, had withheld that possibility, as surely as from a blind man the power of sight. He had withheld much else. Amparo was touched—by genius, by madness, by the Devil, or by a conspiracy of all these and more. She took no sacraments and appeared incapable of prayer. She had a horror of clocks and mirrors. By her own account she spoke with Angels and could hear the thoughts of animals and trees. She was passionately kind to all living things. She was a beam of starlight trapped in flesh and awaiting only the moment when it would continue on its journey into forever.” (p.33) ↗

— Tim Willocks

#apple #asymmetry #atlantic #autumn #blind-man