God not only loves the obedient - He enlightens them.
God does not bless religious efforts—He blesses heart-felt obedience.
Religion is more like response to a friend than it is like obedience to an expert.
If men make war in slavish obedience to rules, they will fail.
Having confidence in your obedience, offers yourself confidence and love.
The union Christ had with the Father was the greatest that we can conceive of in this life—if indeed we can conceive of it. Yet we have no indication that even Jesus was constantly awash with revelations as to what he should do. His union with the ...
A deaf man heard how a mute told that a blind man has seen how a cripple walked.
We have flattered ourselves by inventing proverbs of comparison in matter of blindness,--"blind as a bat," for instance. It would be safe to say that there cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range ...
My non-negotiable list remains short. I want a man who loves God, others and me. That’s it. If he loves God, he will be kind and respectful and thoughtful. If he loves others, he will be a servant, generous and loyal. If he loves me, he will have a...
Then, one sunny September morning, the illusion of a personal God that I tried so hard to believe in, exploded over the skies of Manhattan. Even as the ashes and ruin of this horrific act of blind faith settled over New York, Washington and Pennsylva...
Gobber: Look for its blind spot! Every dragon has one. Find it, hide in it, and strike! [Tuffnut and Ruffnut huddle in front of the dragon's face] Ruffnut: [sniffing] Whoa! Do you *ever* bathe? Tuffnut: You don't like it, then just get your own blind...
You'll understand me when you're older. Then you'll see how men can blind you. And I mean blind you. To the point that you're no longer yourself.
Where were we? I've forgotten. He was deciding whether to cut her throat or love her forever. Right. Yes. The usual choices.
You think you can get rid of things, and people too--leave them behind. You don't know yet about the habit they have, of coming back.
Better not to invent her in her absence. Better to wait until she's actually here. Then he can make her up as she goes along.
They were new money, without a doubt: so new it shrieked. Their clothes looked as it they'd covered themselves in glue, then rolled around in hundred-dollar bills.
More powerful than God, more evil than the Devil; the poor have it, the rich lack it, and if you eat it you die?
But what is a memorial, when you come right down to it, but a commemoration of wounds endured? Endured, and resented. Without memory, there can be no revenge.
But unshed tears can turn rancid. So can memory. So can biting your tongue. My bad nights were beginning. I couldn't sleep.
That's the kind of stories I know. Sad ones. Anyway, taken to it's logical conclusion, every story is sad, because at the end everyone dies.
The truth is so dear to me that if Orholam stood on one side and truth on the other, I would turn my back on my creator himself.
