欧宝娱乐

“I don't like to hear cut and dried sermons. No鈥攚hen I hear a man preach, I like to see him act as if he were fighting bees.”
― Abraham Lincoln

“Two or three angels
Came near to the earth.
They saw a fat church.
Little black streams of people
Came and went in continually.
And the angels were puzzled
To know why the people went thus,
And why they stayed so long within.”
― Stephen Crane, The Complete Poems of Stephen Crane

“Damn. Not even joined yet and you're already using the headache excuse.”
― Jacquelyn Frank, Seduce Me in Dreams

“This whole thing might play out to be a completely wonderful, beautiful disaster, but I want that if it鈥檚 with you.”
― Jamie McGuire, A Beautiful Wedding

“But the chapel, that will never be prosaic. Those who have seen it outlined against the sunset or the full moon, those who have seen its sloping leaded roof-top glisten after a shower of rain, those who have looked down upon the world from its summit, all those who have seen these things will remember the poetry that it has taught them. And while each man changes from year to year, going through the continual changes that make a lifetime, the chapel remains always the same. When the rest of Cambridge is crumbling and in ruins, the chapel will still be standing, the last to fall to time as it is the last to fall to climbers.”
― Whipplesnaith

“If you can't PRAY for the peace your church, PROMOTE the Christian doctrines, PREPARE for every good work and PROVIDE for the expansion of the Church, you are just like the PEWS (table and chairs) in the chapel.”
― Israelmore Ayivor, The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“Knowing God is not enough; you must make Him known to others. Through your living character, you tell more about the living God!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, Leaders' Watchwords

“Live your life in such a way that when a video coverage is taken of you either in light or in the darkness, it can receive an applause when it is shown in your chapel for everyone to view!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“Mrs Hargreaves liked her job and she liked the Hoopers. As far as she was concerned there was far too much twaddle being talked about Glade Hall, by people with too much time on their hands.
鈥淥ver fertile imaginations.鈥� She鈥檇 told the new head gardener.
Some of the locals had worked for the hotel and told stories of seeing shadows around the grounds, when the light was just right. As if shadows could hurt anyone ! It was all twaddle and nonsense.”
― Edward Cowling

“You look a little lost, my dear,' a nun says behind me, and I jump. 'Were you interested in seeing the Bevington Triptych?'
'Oh,' I say. 'Erm... yes. Absolutely.'
'Up there,' she points, and I walk tentatively towards the front of the chapel, hoping it will become obvious what the Bevington Triptych is. A statue, maybe? Or a.. a piece of tapestry?
But as I reach the elderly lady, I see that she's staring up at a whole wall of stained glass windows. I have to admit, they're pretty amazing. I mean look at that huge blue one in the middle. It's fantastic!
'The Bevington Triptych,' says the elderly woman. 'It simply has no parallel, does it?'
'Wow,' I breathe reverentially, staring up with her. 'It's beautiful.'
It really is stunning. God, it just shows, there's no mistaking a real work of art, is there? When you come across real genius, it just leaps out at you. And I'm not even an expert.
'Wonderful colours,' I murmur.
'The detail,' says the woman, clasping her hands, 'is absolutely incomparable.'
'Incomparable,' I echo.
I'm just about to point out the rainbow, which I think is a really nice touch - when I suddenly notice that the elderly woman and I aren't looking at the same thing.
She's looking at some painted wooden thing which I hadn't even noticed.
As inconspicuously as possible, I shift my gaze - and feel a pang of disappointment. Is this the Bevington triptych? But it isn't even pretty!
'Whereas this Victorian rubbish,' the woman
suddenly adds savagely, 'is absolutely criminal! That rainbow! Doesn't it make you feel sick?' She gestures to my big blue window, and I gulp.
'I know,' I say. 'It's shocking, isn't it? Absolutely...
You know - I think I'll just go for a little wander...”
― Sophie Kinsella, Shopaholic Takes Manhattan

“You look a little lost, my dear,' a nun says behind me, and I jump. 'Were you interested in seeing the Bevington Triptych?'
'Oh,' I say. 'Erm... yes. Absolutely.'
'Up there,' she points, and I walk tentatively towards the front of the chapel, hoping it will become obvious what the Bevington Triptych is. A statue, maybe? Or a.. a piece of tapestry?
But as I reach the elderly lady, I see that she's staring up at a whole wall of stained glass windows. I have to admit, they're pretty amazing. I mean look at that huge blue one in the middle. It's fantastic!
'The Bevington Triptych,' says the elderly woman. 'It simply has no parallel, does it?'
'Wow,' I breathe reverentially, staring up with her. 'It's beautiful.'
It really is stunning. God, it just shows, there's no mistaking a real work of art, is there? When you come across real genius, it just leaps out at you. And I'm not even an expert.
'Wonderful colours,' I murmur.
'The detail,' says the woman, clasping her hands, 'is absolutely incomparable.'
'Incomparable,' I echo.
I'm just about to point out the rainbow, which I think is a really nice touch - when I suddenly notice that the elderly woman and I aren't looking at the same thing.
She's looking at some painted wooden thing which I hadn't even noticed.
As inconspicuously as possible, I shift my gaze - and feel a pang of disappointment. Is this the Bevington triptych? But it isn't even pretty!
'Whereas this Victorian rubbish,' the woman suddenly adds savagely, 'is absolutely criminal! That rainbow! Doesn't it make you feel sick?' She gestures to my big blue window, and I gulp.
'I know,' I say. 'It's shocking, isn't it? Absolutely...
You know - I think I'll just go for a little wander...”
― Sophie Kinsella, Shopaholic Takes Manhattan

“The ceremony consisted of vibrant pink, purple, and coral details that complemented the rustic wood and lush green vines climbing up the chapel. Abigail's team constructed an arbor made entirely of drooping orchids and palm fronds that framed the wooden doors perfectly. The aisle was lined with thousands of coral-colored rose petals and more orchids spilling over the end of every row of seats. It was a tropical dream.”
― Mary Hollis Huddleston, Without a Hitch

“The Devil's Chapel by Stewart Stafford

Spires writhing in audacity's sky,
Laced masonry's Faustian high,
The Devil's Chapel invites by lie,
Embalmed, a cracked stone altar dry.

The golden Madonna rises above all,
Lucifer's War, in stained glass, tall,
In horned shadow, the angelic fall,
Dark kingdom formed of a lightning ball.

Bartholomew flayed by sadistic chagrin,
Bones laid bare, devotion anchored within,
Skin in the game took centuries to win,
Gargoyles leer in the paying tourist din.

Behind the veil of confession wood,
The all-seeing eye drips with blood,
Trickster's snare in nightmare's flood,
A gift shop trades where sacrifice stood.

Pungent echoes in incense crawl,
Catacombs beckon entombed gall,
To witness ornate veneration's pall,
Silent to a martyr's last breath call.

Croziers rest in chilled silver's display,
As pink-veined marble taints today.

漏 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford