Apparently, if a supernatural ent.ity exists, its answer to such deception is to kill everyone who couldn't
somehow feel in their heart that they are being lied to.
Not exact matches
For the first time I understood
in my
heart the words of a friend spoken four years earlier when her mother died: «
Somehow I
feel I am next
in line!»
I trusted her, I loved my Jesus and at that moment, my childish voice began
in a whisper and it sounded odd but
somehow homey to my
heart, this murmuring language rolling against the back of my front teeth, and I
felt joy, joy, joy, down
in my
heart.
he has a soft
heart for all his players.he makes all
feel at home and comfortable.he can encourage and help one discover their personal strengths and potential.but
in terms of tactics,
somehow no.
To be honest, I kind of like all those girls I called but
somehow they didn't give me this fuzzy wuzzy
feeling that Serene did to me
in my
heart, I have no idea why
It
feels so ridiculous to be reading an article about a new Ryan McGinley exhibition
in The New York Times, with accompanying images, and then to open Instagram and see the same images, except with superimposed
hearts over any visible nipple or bush, as if I've
somehow teleported back to being a seven - year - old
in Victorian England.
We can have understanding for a war veteran who is terrorized at night, or avoidant of loud noises and other things that resemble their traumatic experiences; yet we
somehow expect children, babies at
heart, to connect, relate, trust, love, reciprocate relationship when their early life experience was marinated
in trauma; being beaten for crying, left with tiny broken bones and head injuries, being used for adult sexual gratification, born drug addicted because of a mother drug use, having rarely been held
in safe arms, having
felt the pain of hunger over days, being left to cry until there are no more tears and no one to soothe.