#nat

To be loved is to be fortunate, but to be hated is to achieve distinction. ↗

— Minna Antrim

#distinction #fortunate #hated #loved

Killing is decreed by law but nature loves eternal youth. Whatever she does, however unconscious and unfeeling the act, she seems to cry out: ‘Quick! Quick! Quick!’ And the more she destroys, the more she is renewed. ↗

— Guy de Maupassant

#love

We speak of love when we destroy nature. It sounds like innocence of cruel arrogance. ↗

— Toba Beta

#destruction-of-nature #innocence #speak-of-love #love

Staying in alignment with truth will always illuminate the path of another soul’s journey. ↗

— Molly Friedenfeld

#inspiration #inspirational-quotes #path #soul-s-journey #staying-in-alignment

If we hear, in our inner ear, a voice saying we are failures, we are losers, we will never amount to anything, this is the voice of Satan trying to convince the bride that the groom does not love her. This is not the voice of God. God woos us with kindness. He changes out of character with the passion of his love. ↗

— Donald Miller

#love-of-god #change

It is the artist who tries to gradually accustom people to the possibilities of a better state of things. ↗

— C.A. Dawson Scott

#change #creative-vision #creativity #human-nature #world-community

Reading stimulates the imagination and a good imagination can change the world in the most splendid of ways. ↗

— Meredith Wood

#books-reading #imagination #change

I shall love my kind of love anyway, doggedly, for I must certainly do the best I can with my own nature and if my nature is to love too well or from afar or to be grateful for crumbs...well, so be it. ↗

— Carol Emshwiller

#human-nature #love #love

You know I'll never say no, and Nate's so dedicated, I think he loves our alpha more than me." "I resent that," Nate grumbled. "I might love football more than you, but definitely not Lucas's ugly mug. ↗

— Nalini Singh

#love #lucas #nate #tasmyn #love

He fell to the seat, she by his side. There were no more words. The stars were beginning to shine. How was it that their lips met? How is it that the birds sing, the the snow melts, that the rose opens, that May blooms, that the dawn whitens behind the black trees on the shivering summit of the hills? ↗

— Victor Hugo

#nature #love