#ring

Only sweet people with good virtues can go to fairyland. Those who treat others meanly and without respect can never go there. ↗

— Janaki Sooriyarachchi

#good-advice #inspiring #inspirational

I replied that I did not quite know what my ailment had been, but that I had certainly suffered a good deal especially in mind. Further, on this subject, I did not consider it advisable to dwell, for the details of what I had undergone belonged to a portion of my existence in which I never expected my godmother to take a share. Into what a new region would such a confidence have led that hale, serene nature! The difference between her and me might be figured by that between the stately ship cruising safe on smooth seas, with its full complement of crew, a captain gay and brave, and venturous and provident; and the life-boat, which most days of the year lies dry and solitary in an old, dark boat-house, only putting to sea when the billows run high in rough weather, when cloud encounters water, when danger and death divide between them the rule of the great deep. No, the "Louisa Bretton" never was out of harbour on such a night, and in such a scene: her crew could not conceive it; so the half-drowned life-boat man keeps his own counsel, and spins no yarns. ↗

— Charlotte Brontë

#healing #loved-ones #suffering #villette #death

But fear no more! I would not take this thing, if it lay by the highway. Not were Minas Tirith falling in ruin and I alone could save her, so, using the weapon of the Dark Lord for her good and my glory. No, I do not wish for such triumphs, Frodo son of Drogo. ↗

— J.R.R. Tolkien

#faramir #temptation #the-one-ring #temptation

You have to get lost before you can be found. ↗

— Jeff Rasley

#biography #charity #himalayas #memoir #mountaineering

One day we took the children to see a goldsmith refine gold after the ancient manner of the East. He was sitting beside his little charcoal fire. ("He shall sit as a refiner"; the gold- or silversmith never leaves his crucible once it is on the fire.) In the red glow lay a common curved roof tile; another tile covered it like a lid. This was the crucible. In it was the medicine made of salt, tamarind fruit and burnt brick dust, and imbedded in it was the gold. The medicine does its appointed work on the gold, "then the fire eats it," and the goldsmith lifts the gold out with a pair of tongs, lets it cool, rubs it between his fingers, and if not satisfied puts it back again in fresh medicine. This time he blows the fire hotter than it was before, and each time he puts the gold into the crucible, the heat of the fire is increased; "it could not bear it so hot at first, but it can bear it now; what would have destroyed it then helps it now." "How do you know when the gold is purified?" we asked him, and he answered, "When I can see my face in it [the liquid gold in the crucible] then it is pure. ↗

— Amy Carmichael

#fire #gold #heat #pain #pure

Home is a notion that only nations of the homeless fully appreciate and only the uprooted comprehend. ↗

— Wallace Stegner

#attachment #belonging #home #homelessness #roots

There are many who don't wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don't wish to wake for the same fear. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#fear #hardship #nightmares #richelle #richelle-goodrich

There are far too many silent sufferers.  Not because they don't yearn to reach out, but because they've tried and found no one who cares. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#despair #hopelessness #richelle #richelle-goodrich #suffering

What am I supposed to do with a wool coat? Especially here in Palm Springs?” “Sleep with it,” he suggested. “Think of me. ↗

— Richelle Mead

#sydney-sage #spring

She turned to the sunlight     And shook her yellow head, And whispered to her neighbor:     "Winter is dead. ↗

— A.A. Milne

#spring #sunlight #winter #spring