This is where Jean's stubbornness and, perhaps, God's stubborn grace came into play. “My definition of grace would be multifaceted, but part of it would certainly be God's passion for brokenness. He does, he really does love brokenness,” Jean tol...
Strong introverts crave alone time (I-time) as if it were oxygen in the lungs for survival. I can become short of breath from inadequate alone time. I-time is non-negotiable for a high-functioning introvert. Without I-time, an introvert can suffer fr...
She goes on with her beautiful hair and mouth like before, I go on like before, alone in the field. It’s like my head had been lowered, And if I think this, and raise my head And the golden sun dries the need to cry I can’t stop having. How vast ...
Of course, I am interested, but I would not dare to talk about them. In talking about the impact of ideas in one field on ideas in another field, one is always apt to make a fool of oneself. In these days of specialization there are too few people wh...
Yes, he is here in this open field, in sunlight, among the few young trees set out to modify the bare facts-- he's here, but only because we are here. When we go, he goes with us to be your hands that never do violence, your eyes that wonder, your li...
Terry Fields: Pardon me, sir, but I lost my I.D. in... in a flood and I'd like to get some Old Harper, hard stuff. Would you mind buying a bottle for me? Bum at Liquor Store: Why certainly! I lost my wife, too - her name wasn't Idy, though, and it wa...
Debbie Dunham: I can't see what he's doing. Darn it, I wish I could see. Terry Fields: I can't see anything. I don't wanna see anything. [Debbie walks away] Terry Fields: Just keep him away from me, that's all I want. How do I get into these things? ...
In great deeds, something abides. On great fields, something stays. Forms change and pass; bodies disappear; but spirits linger, to consecrate ground for the vision-place of souls… generations that know us not and that we know not of, heart-drawn t...
It just made me realize that I wouldn’t have anything if you left,” he said miserably. Jake gave a pained wince and looked down at the floor. “I wouldn’t have anything if I left, either,” he murmured.
What’s wrong with being naked?” --Zeena Schreck on AMLA to Christian Minister Jerry Johnston
When their eyes connected she tilted her head slightly…paused, and smiled. It was as if she needed to see him at a different angle to insure that her instant desire wasn’t a vanishing mirage
Growth dwells not in standing one’s ground, anyone can do that. Personal growth comes from reaching past insecurities with a sincere effort to acquire an understanding that does not mirror your own.
Every moment is precious, even the ones behind me that I often reflect upon with a reserved smile. However…I seldom look back, only forward in anticipation of the next greater now.
Sometimes life is a series of obstacles, a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes, she realizes suddenly, it is simply a matter of blind faith.
She was reflecting back on a truth she had learned over the years: that people heard what they wanted to hear, saw what they wanted, believed what they wanted.
To be left with only the trace of a memory is to gaze at an armchair that's still molded to the form of a love who has left never to return: It is to grieve, dear reader, it is to weep.
You left me. You made a pet out of me, and then you left me. If love were food, I would have starved on the bones you gave me.
But sometimes, things are better to just hear. Some questions better left unasked. Some words better left unsaid. Because saying them doesn’t make you matter any less.
So this was betrayal. It was like being left alone in the desert at dusk without water or warmth. It left your mouth dry and will broken. It sapped your tears and made you hollow.
We're practical and sensible but we're also dreamers. Don't forget that part of you. There's nothing wrong with being sensible, but dreams are what make you fly. And you're destined to touch the sky.
Cinders patter, falling with the snow. We creep infinitesimally northward through the dirty chaos of a world in the process of making itself. Praise then Creation unfinished!
