196 pages
Rating: (874 votes)
“greatest theologian of the twentieth century, Karl Barth, said that ‘to clasp the hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world’. And”
“Everyone prays,’ he pointed out. ‘Even non-Christians pray. The difference when Christians do it is that they are climbing into the lap of their heavenly Father.”
“God brings his presence ‘into the house’, and we are called to release it back out into the world or the blessing will die.”
“Our world is waiting for us to love and show God’s heart through his powerful presence.”
“The day we start taking credit for the fact that he answers prayer we are in deep, deep trouble.”
“A prayer room is first and foremost a living room—a place where the Father waits for his children to come and climb into his arms.”
“I wait for him to say the words, I'm done pretending.”
“We Mandalorians have a saying,” Canderous explained. “A warrior who doesn’t hope for battle has no hope during battle.”
“If you want me, you get everything--my problems, my passions, my past--everything.”
“I'm not Bonnie™ or Chloe. I'm the essence of her, the nontrademarked person the camera can never capture and my parents have no right to sign over. There is a sovereign nation encased in this skin that MetaReel can never trademark.”
“La notte calò lenta e fredda sulla foresta intorno a lui, e scese una quiete spettrale. Come se qualcosa stesse per accadere, grilli e uccelli notturni tacquero spaventati. Lui accelerò il passo. Nel buio ormai completato si ritrovò smarrito in una foresta paludosa, si dibatté nei pantani risucchianti e si mise quasi a correre [...]. Quando piombò fragorosamente nella radura in mezzo al pioppeto, cadde lungo disteso e rimase per terra con la guancia appoggiata al suolo. E mentre giaceva così un lampo remoto percorse il cielo con la sua luce azzurra, e, in una primordiale visione del mondo dall'occhio fessurato di un embrione d'uccello, scorrendo atroce e istantaneo da buio a buio, gli regalò infine lo spettacolo della cavità e dell'informe plasma bianco che si dibatteva sul muschio rigoglioso e iniziatico, come una magra lepre di palude. Lo avrebbe preso per un fratello senz'ossa della paura stessa che si sentiva in cuore, se il bambino non avesse gridato.
Il bambino urlava la sua maledizione al mondo tenebroso e maleodorante in cui era nato, piangendo e piangendo, mentre l'uomo giaceva a terra farfugliando con le mascelle paralizzate, e con le mani respingeva la notte come un folle paracleto assediato dalle suppliche dell'intero limbo.”
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