Prayer is a way, a road we build for love to walk into our lives.
People are funny. They want the front of the bus, the middle of the road and the back of the church. —Mrs. Miracle
You can handle just about anything that comes at you out on the road with a believable grin, common sense and whiskey.
Grown people know that they do not always know the way of things, and even if they think they know, they do not know where and how they got the proof.
Beware of opportunities that are inspired by inordinate ambition or greed and not God-inspired. They are road blocks and distractions on your way to godly fulfillments
When reason has followed its road to the end, the point of crisis is reached and man is brought to the great question mark over his own existence.
For all who are walking down the roads of life...Always listen to your heart and never STOP dreaming!
Why did the brick and blanket cross the road? Because some maniac had just run over the chicken. That maniac was me, and that chicken was delicious.
I laugh. Yer crazy, I says. I was fine till I met you, he says.
I don't like phones. You can't be sure people are paying attention to you when you're talking to them.
Lugh goes first always first an I follow on behind. An that's fine. That's right. That's how it's meant to be.
That's good. And speaking of spelling, tell me -- do you wrap your head in a towel after you shower?
It is instilled in thousands of American males from an early age that one of their requirements is to be able to both dish out and take a lot of pain. They are taught the rules of this road in gyms, rings, backyards and fields all over America.
People don't understand this, but I started very young, and I became very, very successful at a very young age. By the time I was 26 years old, I was a multimillionaire. And I started with nothing. And I was on the road 10, 11 months a year.
Black bears, though, are not fearsome. I encountered one on the road to my house in Vermont, alone at night. I picked up two stones just in case, but I wasn't afraid of him. I felt a hunter's exhilaration and a brotherly feeling.
Perhaps because my town was so naturally gothic in its architecture and relative isolation - the roads often closed in winter - my stories tended toward the ghostly and the creepily suspenseful right from the get-go.
Art and Religion are, then, two roads by which men escape from circumstance to ecstasy. Between aesthetic and religious rapture there is a family alliance. Art and Religion are means to similar states of mind.
The road to success is full of pit stops, pitfalls, and self pity; my advice is simply don’t stop!
I can speak to my soul only when the two of us are off exploring deserts or cities or mountains or roads.
Pie may just be the Madonna-whore of the dessert world.
All my years to this moment All my roads to this wall. All my words to this silence All my pride to this fall. -Songs of Sapphique
