Love was that way. You could not render it in black or white. It always came down to the strange, blended shades of grey.
Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by no memories of outlived sorrow.
Rome - the city of visible history, where the past of a whole hemisphere seems moving in funeral procession with strange ancestral images and trophies gathered from afar.
Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the blot? I know no speck so troublesome as self.
People glorify all sorts of bravery except the bravery they might show on behalf of their nearest neighbors.
Life is measured by the rapidity of change, the succession of influences that modify the being.
All passion becomes strength when it has an outlet.
I remember one particular moment (I don't actually know how old I was, but I guess around 7 or something like that) when I remember actually weeping. I was by myself in a room in the house, and I was just crying because I realized how much Jesus loved me.
There is simply so much reason to believe the good news of Jesus Christ in history, in Scripture, as well as in our own experience that it would take a leap of faith not to believe in the gospel.
I was just delighted to be a legitimate, for-real published author.
I don't look so much for tips. But when they interview a Nicklaus or a Palmer, I'm all ears. I listen to guys who have done it, been successful for years.