Quotes about Pulse

Prayer is the spiritual pulse of the soul, by which it beats strongly after God.

The motion of our praise must be like the motion of our pulse, which beats as long as life lasts.

The sail, the play of its pulse so like our own lives: so thin and yet so full of life, so noiseless when it labors hardest, so noisy and impatient when least effective.

Hope is the music of the whole Bible, the heartbeat, the pulse and the atmosphere of the whole Bible.

Prayer is to the spiritual life what the beating of the pulse and the drawing of the breath are to the life of the body.

Underneath all the texts, all the sacred psalms and canticles, these watery varieties of sounds and silences, terrifying, mysterious, whirling and sometimes gestating and gentle must somehow be felt in the pulse, ebb, and flow of the music that sings in me. My new song must float like a feather on the breath of God.

Oh! dreadful is the check—intense the agony— When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see; When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again; The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.

The heart beneath the breastbone pumping. The blood on its appointed rounds. Life in small places, narrow crannies. In the leaves, the toad's pulse. The delicate cellular warfare in a waterdrop. A dextrocardiac, said the smiling doctor. Your heart's in the right place. Weathershrunk and loveless. The skin drawn and split like an overripe fruit.

How do we "abide" in the love of God? We dwell no further from His side than the place we are most keenly aware of His great affection. Was it not the disciple who reclined against Christ Jesus who saw himself as the "beloved disciple"? Place your ear against the chest of the Savior so that, when troubled times come, you may not know what will befall you, but you can hear the steady pulse of the boundless love of Him who holds you.

Love, that is the pulse of all, the sustenance and the pang […] No other theme but love—knitting, enclosing, all-diffusing love. — Walt Whitman, from "The Mystic Trumpeter", Leaves of Grass (Simon Schuster, August 1st 2006) Originally published July 4th 1855.

Your enemies still figure into God's plan. Their pulse is proof: God hasn't given up on them. They may be out of God's will, but not out of his reach. You honor God when you see them, not as his failures, but as his projects.

Its very pulse, if I may use the word, was like no other clock. It did not mark the flight of every moment with a gentle second stroke, as though it would check old Time, and have him stay his pace in pity, but measured it with one sledge-hammer beat, as if its business were to crush the seconds as they came trooping on, and remorselessly to clear a path before the Day of Judgement.