Inspirational quotes with gems.
i realize you cant just throw real gems at ppl...because they think cubic zirconia is the real thing lol
I carry my adornments on my soul.I do not dress up like a popinjay;But inwardly, I keep my daintiness.I do not bear with me, by any chance,An insult not yet washed away- a conscienceYellow with unpurged bile- an honor frayedTo rags, a set of scruples badly worn.I go caparisoned in gems unseen,Trailing white plumes of freedom, garlandedWith my good name- no figure of a man,But a soul clothed in shining armor, hungWith deeds for decorations, twirling- thus-A bristling wit, and swinging at my sideCourage, and on the stones of this old townMaking the sharp truth ring, like golden spurs!
The precious gems are hidden, it is not easy to find them.
This is just a brief "off the top of the head" first blush analysis, and if one wanted to dig deeper, it wouldn't be difficult to discover more "gems" hidden in plain sight.Devil's Inception!
Look," Grace said. "How strange! In spite of the rain, you can still see the stars. How bright they are tonight." She pointed, but Lorcan didn't look. His eyes remained fixed intently on her."I can't think of a finer sight in the whole world than the one I'm looking at right now," he said.In spite of being drenched, Grace flushed at his words.Lorcan's eyes sparkled at her, brighter than ever before. It was as if the rare blue gems of his iriseshad been washed by the rain amd buffed by the moonlight to a new intensity. "Grace, there's been something I've wanted to do for a very long time now, but things have kept getting in the way." He reached forward, bringing a hand to the side of her face. Then he gently but firmly drew her wet face toward his. He gazed at her, as if seeing her for the first time. Then he brought his soft lips down to hers and kissed her.
I love you, Ginesse. Don't you see? You are my Zerzura. You are my undiscovered country, both my heart's destination and journey. Gold and temples, jewels and gems don't hold one bit of your enticement. You are my Solomon's mine, my uncharted empire. You are the only home I need to know, the only journey I want to take, the only treasure I would die to claim. You are exotic and familiar, opiate and tonic, hard conscience and sweet temptation. And now I have no more words to give you, Ginesse. I only have my heart, and you already own that.
We live in a time that hungers for HOPE; to believe in MIRACLES and DREAMS, for without these soul gems, humanity is ripped at the seams.
...As if you have discovered a beach you have been visiting all your life is made not of sand but of diamonds, and they blind you with their beauty...Diamonds might be blinding in their beauty, but they were also the hardest and sharpest gems in the world. They could cut you or grind you down, smash and slice you apart. Malcolm, deranged with love, had not thought of that. But Julian could think of nothing else.
Far over the misty mountains coldTo dungeons deep and caverns oldWe must away ere break of dayTo seek the pale enchanted gold.The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,While hammers fell like ringing bellsIn places deep, where dark things sleep,In hollow halls beneath the fells.For ancient king and elvish lordThere many a gleaming golden hoardThey shaped and wrought, and light they caughtTo hide in gems on hilt of sword.On silver necklaces they strungThe flowering stars, on crowns they hungThe dragon-fire, in twisted wireThey meshed the light of moon and sun.Far over the misty mountains coldTo dungeons deep and caverns oldWe must away, ere break of day,To claim our long-forgotten gold.Goblets they carved there for themselvesAnd harps of gold; where no man delvesThere lay they long, and many a songWas sung unheard by men or elves.The pines were roaring on the height,The wind was moaning in the night.The fire was red, it flaming spread;The trees like torches blazed with light.The bells were ringing in the daleAnd men looked up with faces pale;The dragon's ire more fierce than fireLaid low their towers and houses frail.The mountain smoked beneath the moon;The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.They fled their hall to dying fallBeneath his feet, beneath the moon.Far over the misty mountains grimTo dungeons deep and caverns dimWe must away, ere break of day,To win our harps and gold from him!
I always thought of the stars like a handful of gems that God randomly tossed across the sky, saying, 'Here, go wherever you please.
Oho, now I know what you are. You are an advocate of Useful Knowledge.... Well, allow me to introduce myself to you as an advocate of Ornamental Knowledge. You like the mind to be a neat machine, equipped to work efficiently, if narrowly, and with no extra bits or useless parts. I like the mind to be a dustbin of scraps of brilliant fabric, odd gems, worthless but fascinating curiosities, tinsel, quaint bits of carving, and a reasonable amount of healthy dirt. Shake the machine and it goes out of order; shake the dustbin and it adjusts itself beautifully to its new position.
..........books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age; more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will:
If there was magic in this world, it happened within sight of the three bases and home plate. All the gems in my world that decorated the walls and floors of dragons' lairs, the sword hilts of privileged princes, and crowns worn by emperors and kings, were nothing compared to the beauty and splendor of the diamond in Wrigley Stadium. It wasn't just a yard with dirt, chalk lines, bases, and a small hill in its center. Wrigley was a field of dreams. Dreams of eternal glory for the men who ran to the outfield, who took their respective bases, and prepared for battle against those who would dare enter their hallowed realm. Dreams for the kids in the stands, all wanting to don a uniform, kiss their moms goodbye, and wield their bats as enchanted weapons destined to knock the cover off the ball. And for the adults who had already selected their lot in life, Wrigley made the dreams of past innocence, lost wonder, and the promise that there was something inherently good still left in the world, come true.Yeah, corny as hell. But all true.
Your scars are unique gems that contain opportunities for both personal growth and to help save the life of someone else. However, you can only realize these when you fully claim who you are. And to fully claim who you are also means recognizing, and taking ownership of the scars that come along with the rest of you.
The serenity of the lulling ocean is a wondrous thing to behold..more precious than the gems coveted and covered in platinum or gold...
Still, for sixteen years I saw the way he passed the butter dish across the dining room table to her, as if he wished it could be more, as if he wished she could life the lid and precious gems would spill over her dinner, as if that might finally make her happy- an inedible, improvident gift, like easy, unexpected laughter.
Now fair and marvellous was that vessel made, and it was filled with a wavering flame, pure and bright; and Earendil the Mariner sat at the helm, glistening with dust of elven-gems, and the Silmaril was bound upon his brow. Far he journeyed in that ship, even into the starless voids; but most often was he seen at morning or at evening, glimmering in sunrise or sunset, as he came back to Valinor from voyages beyond the confines of the world.
I know that my grandmother certainly did nothing to warrant my mother stealing all of her jewelry that my grandfather had given her as gifts over the years, just so she could peddle it for heroin on the street. Those were precious metals and gems that could never be replaced, and each one had a story behind it. A love story between my grandparents, that my mother flushed down a proverbial toilet so that she could shoot up, throw up and pass out.
What is…” She flipped through a few pages, looked up into his eyes. “Is this…?” “My journal,” he said, reaching out to glide a knuckle down her cheek. Her skin was so damn soft. She was a contradiction in terms to him, and one that he found endlessly fascinating: a woman with the inner strength to rival any Spec Ops member he’d ever known, yet she had such a kind, soft heart beneath that hard-won armor. Resilient. Independent yet willing to compromise. Formidable in her confidence and strength of will, yet gentle and loving. He loved her so hard it hurt. “I bought it the night after you stayed at my place,” he continued. “I knew if I was going to have a real shot with you going forward then I needed to get my shit together once and for all. You said the writing thing really helped you so I called my counselor and talked to her about it. She thought it would be good for me too. So I wrote in it every day since. I’ve been working hard at it.” Taya leafed through the pages until she came to the end and looked back up into his eyes. “It’s full.” “Yeah. Guess I had a lot to say.” The tenderness in her eyes slayed him. “Nathan, I’m so proud of you.” Her pride in him made him feel twenty feet tall. He let out a relieved breath. “I want to read it to you. That’s my next step, if you’re okay with it.” “Of course it’s okay. I’d love for you to read it to me, as long as you feel comfortable doing it.” “That’s the thing, I am. And I wouldn’t be with anyone else except you. You make me feel…whole.” He didn’t know how else to say it, how else to explain himself, except he needed her to know he was trying like hell to deal with his issues. “I know I’ve got a long way to go before I get to the same place you’re at, but I’m willing to put in the work to get there. I feel safe with you and I’m ready to move forward, let go of all the stuff that happened before. Like you said, I’m doing it for me. I’m sick of my past having any kind of hold over me. So I’m going to do whatever it takes to make peace with it.” Her answering smile lit up her whole face, made her gray eyes sparkle like gems. “Then I’ll gladly listen to whatever you want to say.” Warmth kindled in his chest. She did that; warmed him from the inside out, just by being her. “Good, because I love you.” She froze, her eyes widening slightly. He nodded, laughed at her shocked expression. “Yep, I love you. That’s what I came here to say. I love you and I’m a better man because of it, but not as good a man as I’ll be down the road if you stand by me.” Her eyes filled with tears and she flung her arms around him. “I love you too,” she blurted out against his neck. “So, so much. And of course I’ll stand by you.” Nate felt like his heart might burst. He hugged her hard. “Would you move to Virginia with me? When your dad’s strong enough. I know you need to be here for a while longer, but after that, I want you in my bed every night so I can wake up beside you each morning.” She gave a soggy laugh, her face still buried in his neck. “There you go again with the romance.” “Oh, baby, have I got plans for you.” He stroked a hand over her back, fascinated by the combination of softness and strength that was uniquely her. Then his stomach rumbled, making her smile. He was starving, hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have any bacon in the house, would you? Because I’d kill for a BLT right now.
When Molly O'Toole was looking at the colored pictures in Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle's big dictionary and just happened to be eating a candy cane at the same time and drooled candy cane juice on the colored pictures of gems and then forgot and shut the book so the pages all stuck together, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle didn't say, "Such a careless little girl can never ever look at the colored pictures in my dictionary again." Nor did she say, "You must never look at books when you are eating." She said, "Let's see, I think we can steam those pages apart, and then we can wipe the stickiness off with a little soap and water, like this-now see, it's just as good as new. There's nothing as cozy as a piece of candy and a book.
Nestled in the valley of darkness, in the deepest depths of depression, are the priceless gems of; creativity, intuition and sensitivity. The trick is learning how to navigate the dark, so these precious gems can be unearthed and their beauty beheld.
We believe we have dived down to the most unfathomable depths, and when we reappear on the surface, the drop of water that glistens on our trembling finger-tips no longer resembles the sea from which it came. We believe we have discovered a grotto that is stored with bewildering treasure; we come back to the light of day, and the gems we have brought are false – mere pieces of glass – and yet does the treasure shine on, unceasingly, in the darkness!
Nevertheless a certain class of dishonesty, dishonesty magnificent in its proportions, and climbing into high places, has become at the same time so rampant and so splendid that there seems to be reason for fearing that men and women will be taught to feel that dishonesty, if it can become splendid, will cease to be abominable. If dishonesty can live in a gorgeous palace with pictures on all its walls, and gems in all its cupboards, with marble and ivory in all its corners, and can give Apician dinners, and get into Parliament, and deal in millions, then dishonesty is not disgraceful, and the man dishonest after such a fashion is not a low scoundrel. Instigated, I say, by some such reflections as these, I sat down in my new house to write The Way We Live Now. And as I had ventured to take the whip of the satirist into my hand, I went beyond the iniquities of the great speculator who robs everybody, and made an onslaught also on other vices;--on the intrigues of girls who want to get married, on the luxury of young men who prefer to remain single, and on the puffing propensities of authors who desire to cheat the public into buying their volumes.
It is only rather recently that science has begun to make peace with its magical roots. Until a few decades ago, it was common for histories of science either to commence decorously with Copernicus's heliocentric theory or to laud the rationalism of Aristotelian antiquity and then to leap across the Middle Ages as an age of ignorance and superstition. One could, with care and diligence, find occasional things to praise in the works of Avicenna, William of Ockham, Albertus Magnus, and Roger Bacon, but these sparse gems had to be thoroughly dusted down and scraped clean of unsightly accretions before being inserted into the corners of a frame fashioned in a much later period.
The stars are far brighterThan gems without measure,The moon is far whiterThan silver in treasure;The fire is more shiningOn hearth in the gloamingThan gold won by mining,So why go a-roaming?
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