Famous Soul Quotes Part – 18

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The soul of the river had entered my soul, And the gathered power of my soul was moving So swiftly, it seemed to be at rest Under cities of cloud and under Spheres of silver and changing worlds– Until I saw a flash of trumpets Above the battlements over Time!

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The soul on earth is an immortal guest, Compelled to starve at an unreal feast: A spark, which upward tends by nature’s force: A stream diverted from its parent source; A drop dissever’d from the boundless sea; A moment, parted from eternity; A pilgrim panting for the rest to come; An exile, anxious for his native home.

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The soul that is attached to anything however much good there may be in it, will not arrive at the liberty of divine union. For whether it be a strong wire rope or a slender and delicate thread that holds the bird, it matters not, if it really holds it fast; for, until the cord be broken the bird cannot fly.

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The soul that lives, ascends frequently, and runs familiarly through the streets of the heavenly Jerusalem, visiting the patriarchs and prophets, saluting the apostles, and admiring the army of martyrs. So do thou lead on thy heart and bring it to the palace of the Great King.

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The soul was never put in the body to stand still.

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The soul, Advancing ever to the source of light And all perfection, lives, adores, and reigns In cloudless knowledge, purity, and bliss.

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The soul, aspiring, pants its source to mount, As streams meander level with their fount.

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The soul, considered with its Creator, is like one of those mathematical lines that may draw nearer to another for all eternity without a possibility of touching it; and can there be a thought so transporting as to consider ourselves in these perpetual approaches to Him, who is not only the standard of perfection, but of happiness?

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The soul, immortal as its sire, shall never die.

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The soul, secure in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point, The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years; But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements, The wrecks of matter, and the crush of worlds.

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The soul, the mother of deep fears, Of high hopes infinite, Of glorious dreams, mysterious tears, Of sleepless inner sight; Lovely, but solemn, it arose, Unfolding what no more might close.

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The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come.

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The soul, which is spirit, can not dwell in dust; it is carried along to dwell in the blood. [Lat., Anima certe, quia spiritus, in sicco habitare non potest; ideo in sanguine fertur habitare.]

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The soul


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