[Judith Warner:] Our neurotic quest to perfect the mechanics of mothering can be interpreted as an effort to do on an individual level what we’ve stopped trying to do on a society-wide one.
Pity, if one can generalize, is at the bottom of woman. When men like us, it is for our better qualities, and however tender their liking, we dare not be unworthy of it, or they will quietly let us go. But unworthiness stimulates woman. It brings out...
The main thing is to stand up to the light, to joy (like our child) in the knowledge that I shall be extinguished in the light over gorse, asphalt, and sea, to stand up to time, or rather to eternity in the instant. To be eternal means to have existe...
Our failure to hear His voice when we want to is due to the fact that we do not in general want to hear it, that we want it only when we think we need it.
I look back at the glimpse of light in the center of Magdalene, near her heart, and remember the beauty to be found even in sorrow--beauty as a result of transformation, an admission of weakness, and a total dependence on the Creator. Even in the dar...
The Universe operates on a basic principle of economics: everything has its cost. We pay to create our future, we pay for the mistakes of the past. We pay for every change we make . . . and we pay just as dearly if we refuse to change.
It is the job of light to speak out against darkness. Become part of that light when you see wrongs against humanity by speaking out against them. Help light our world for the future generations to come.
All children are our responsibility and should always be safe. We must do what we can to help them stay safe, wel and educated. The future of humanity depands on it. Without children...earth will not have a future.
America's 1st Arab spring came in the guise of the Civil War...when our nation couldn't stomach the abomination of slavery anymore. One can't help keep wondering...when the next one will come.✌
The World is full of pain,suffering and many situations we never want to face. Truth is we must overcome it all to move on to better,brighter days in our lives.Overcoming is the only way we can.
It's time that America wakes up and take a moral stand against all violence especially that is committed against women & children. Violence is wrong and sadly will only produce more violence upon our nation and humanity.
Enough Is Enough America. Let's Work To End All Violence. At Home, In The Streets, Against Women, Children, Brothers, Sisters And Start Moving Forward To Help Make Our Nation Safe For All!
In seasons of hiddenness our sense of value is disrupted, stripped of what "others" affirmed us to be. In this season God intends to give us an unshakable identity in Him, that no amount of adoration nor rejection can alter.
I despise the rituals of fake friendship. I wish we could just claw each other's eyes out and call it a day; instead we put on huge radiant smiles and spout compliments until our teeth hurt from the saccharine sweetness of it all.
For remember that in general we don't use language according to strict rules-- it hasn't been taught to us by means of strict rules, either. We, in our discussions on the other hand, constantly compare language with a calculus preceding to exact rule...
People who know our music, they know who you are. They've been in the dark room, they know you better than your best friend, because you don't sing like that to your best friend, you don't sing in their ear.
Knowing failure is part of our process, and leads to new ideas, stronger work, and more honest questions, liberates us to peer, a little less frightened, into the unknown.
Just as the church needs members with different skills, our world must have various forms of labor, interdependent and thus valuable. A world full of ministers would be without churches, bread for the Lord's Supper, and printed Bibles to read.
I have loved you with all my life, and you've agreed to be my loving wife. Now I'll forever cherish our vows in my heart,"In sickness and in health, till death do us part.
Now I stand before houses set on our secret trail, the haunt of arrowheads and lost Indians the color of small plums, rooms in which the new boys play, tamed by computers and a summer waste of games, where once, in these woods, we tasted wild fruit.
Leor smiled. “Merci, Monsieur Rusé.” “De rien.” Jean replied, and then he checked his watch. “Our flight will be leaving soon. Are you ready for that adventure? Can you brave the terrors of second class?” Leor laughed. “It depends if I...
