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1 " Sometimes all you need to do is just hold on to yourself! Look at the stars in the sky, listen to the sweet murmurings of the breeze, inhale the fragrance of the night, and you will feel fine! "
― Avijeet Das
2 " So he had them into the slaughter house, where was a butcher killing a sheep. And behold, the sheep was quiet and took her death patiently. Then said the Interpreter, " You must learn of this sheep to suffer, and put up wrongs without murmurings and complaints. Behold how quietly she takes her death! And without objecting she suffereth her skin to be pulled over her ears. Your King doth call you his sheep. "
3 " The clear stars before him took to shuddering and he knew why; they shuddered at sight of what was behind him. He had never divined before that strange Things hid themselves from men, under pretence of being snow-clad mounds of swaying trees; but now they came slipping out from their harmless covers to follow him, and mock at his impotence to make a kindred Thing resolve to truer form. He knew the air behind him was thronged; he heard the hum of innumerable murmurings together; but his eyes could never catch them - they were too swift and nimble; but he knew they were there, because, on a backward glance, he saw the snow mounds surge as they grovelled flatlings out of sight; he saw the trees reel as they screwed themselves rigid past recognition among the boughs. "
4 " I am persuaded our discontents, and murmurings with out unpleasing condition, and our covetous desires after more, are not so provoking to God, nor so destructive to the sinner, as our too sweet enjoying, and rest of spirit in a pleasing state. . . . Our rest is our heaven, and where we take our rest, there we make our heaven(457). "
― Richard Baxter , The Saints' Everlasting Rest
5 " Riding high and above the waves on extemporaneous notions of an afterlife, Michael brought one foot forward and let it dangle over the roof’s edge. He knew that he did not have much time before the other would follow. Some patients below could see the figure atop the building fromthe courtyard. They started to rile with anticipation, their irate murmurings incomprehensible. Agroundskeeper looked up to see what justified the commotion. Michael could hear the shoutsfrom below. He almost toppled when the wind picked up again, but recovered and kept one footdangling with the other anchored to the roof. The hoots came louder now, almost calling himtoward them like sirens guiding ships in the night. From below it was impossible to make out theface of the balancing figurine now poised in suspended descent. Another gust came. He closedhis eyes, felt the levity manifesting, and felt the complete freedom inside. He could feel himselfgliding down like the sail of a weightless craft, forever plunging into the great beyond, belowwhere mermaids sing and summon their lovers home, further down into the depths of somecomplacent serenity, further down where thoughts float away and never return and the lightnessis so grand that there is no other worldly place imaginable, for there is no world left to beconsidered. There is only the soul, free from the prison of the body, and it is released to travelanother millennium through time, carrying with it the progress and industry gathered from themind previously occupied. The time it spans inconceivable. He let his other foot go from the roofand felt himself completely let go. "
― Matthew Chase Stroud , Paths of Young Men
6 " The two creatures were sexless. But he of Malacandra was masculine (not male); she of Perelandra was feminine (not female). Malacandra seemed to him to have the look of one standing armed, at the ramparts of his own remote archaic world, in ceaseless vigilance, his eyes ever roaming the earth-ward horizon whence his danger came long ago. " A sailor's look," Ransom once said to me; " you know... eyes that are impregnated with distance." But the eyes of Perelandra opened, as it were, inward, as if they were the curtained gateway to a world of waves and murmurings and wandering airs, of life that rocked in winds and splashed on mossy stones and descended as the dew and arose sunward in thin-spun delicacy of mist. On Mars the very forests are of stone; in Venus the lands swim. For now he thought of them no more as Malacandra and Perelandra. He called them by their Tellurian names. With deep wonder he thought to himself, " My eyes have seen Mars and Venus. I have seen Ares and Aphrodite. "
7 " So never give in,” continued the girl, and restated again and again the vague yet convincing plea that the Invisible lodges against the Visible. Her excitement grew as she tried to cut the rope that fastened Leonard to the earth. Woven of bitter experience, it resisted her. Presently the waitress entered and gave her a letter from Margaret. Another note, addressed to Leonard, was inside. They read them, listening to the murmurings of the river. "
― E.M. Forster , Howards End