The decision can’t alone be mine, While the chalice is…

“The corpse is too gentle, With a touch, so parental, I dare not refuse, With a lot to lose, I miss the ruse, The…

— Rahim Haider

This supernatural bread and this consecrated chalice are for the health and salvation of mankind.

— Cyprian

O Lord, we cannot go to the pool of Siloe to which you sent the blind man. But we have the chalice of Your…

— Ephrem the Syrian

I started my career giving a clinic in bad acting in the film, "The Silver Chalice," and now I'm playing a crusty old man…

— Paul Newman

In old time we had treen chalices and golden priests, but now we have treen priests and golden chalices.

— John Jewel

“MOTHER IS WATER I wish I could Shower your head with flowers And anoint your feet with my tears, For I know I have…

— Suzy Kassem

“He took the sacramental chalice, and stretching forth his bare arm, cried in a loud voice, 'Come ye viewless ministers of this dread hour!…

— William Mudford

When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June…

— William C. Bryant

The Christian, like a chalice without a base, cannot stand on his own nor hold what he has received any longer that God holds…

— William Gurnall

You can tell the real Christians by their acts. They are the ones serving, the ones loving, the ones sharing whatever they have. They…

— Jan Phillips

“About the same time one Purderve was put to death, for saying privately to a priest, after he had drunk the wine, "He blessed…

— John Foxe

Buttercups, bright eyed and bold, hold their chalices of gold to catch the sunshine and the dew.

— Julia Caroline Dorr

“The Holy Grail ’neath ancient Roslin waits. The blade and chalice guarding o’er Her gates. Adorned in masters’ loving art, She lies. She rests…

— Dan Brown

“Now, perhaps nowhere as poignantly as in the omnipresent theme of Christ dying on the cross, the central image of art is no longer…

— Riane Eisler

I take the seashell from my jeans pocket and rub my fingers across its silken, indented surface, shallow as my own open hand. This…

— Katrina Kenison