Angel Quotes - page 23
![You know what I want. If I may become a clergyman, if I fulfill that position so that my work is equal to that of our Father [who was a clergy-man], then I shall thank God. I have good hope that I shall succeed, it was once said to me by someone who was further on in life than I, and who was no stranger in Jerusalem:... I believe that you are a Christian, you see, it was so good for me to hear those words... It is good to believe that there is a God who knows what we need, better than we know it ourselves, and who helps us when we need help. It is also good to believe that, just as in the olden days, now, too, an angel is not far from those who feel godly sorrow... I've carefully read the story of Elijah so often, and so often has it given me strength up to now:. (Vincent van Gogh)](https://cdn.quotesdtb.com/img/quotes_images_webp/77/vincent-van-gogh-angel-740777.webp)
Now, I ain't alone, as you may think I am. There's a young man hid with me, in comparison with which young man I am a angel. That young man hears the words I speak. That young man has a secret way pecooliar to himself of getting at a boy, and at his heart, and at his liver. It is in wain for a boy to attempt to hide himself from that young man. A boy may lock his door, may be warm in bed, may tuck himself up, may draw the clothes over his head, may think himself comfortable and safe, but that young man will softly creep and creep his way to him and tear him open.
Charles Dickens
Pride is a reaction formation to the feeling of inferiority, of the experience of powerlessness, of not being worthy enough of love. Only anxiety compels a person to lose moderation and to want to be more than he is. Out of fear of being an animal, he has to become an angel. Out of fear of being a nothing, a god. Anxiety never allows him to be simply a man.
Eugen Drewermann
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
William Shakespeare
