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Tomorrow I shall write something beautiful, something so serene that storms will rise suddenly and protest with ferocious screams. I shall write poems for the poets and for the songster a single song that will tell a tale of such beauty the heart of earth shall moan. But today, today shall be special for all I will do is sit quietly alone and think of you and think of you.
:: Tonny K. Brown
I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.
:: John Burroughs
I sometimes worry about my short attention span, but not for long.
:: Herb Caen
I'm learning real skills that I can apply throughout the rest of my life ... procrastinating and rationalizing.
:: Calvin (of Calvin & Hobbes)
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.
:: Albert Camus
4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8 Love never fails.
:: 1 Corinthians 13 (NIV)
I don't write songs when I'm happy. When I'm content, I take my wife out to dinner, I go surfing. I hang out with my friends and play ridiculous cover tunes when I'm happy. But when I'm depressed, I turn to look for something beyond this life. When I'm lonely and nothing makes sense and the world has lost it's flavor I search for notes and words that usher in a transcendence that soars high above the tragedy. I look for to song to understand the present tragedy in the context of a hope for a better world. I look for words that remind me of a bigger story, for songs that acknowledge the tragedy and move beyond it. I look to artists who give me windows, words that provide for a new life to be birthed within me.
:: Jon Foreman (of Switchfoot), What's in a Word?
I disliked very much their hymns, which I considered to be fifth-rate poems set to sixth-rate music. But as I went on I saw the great merit of it. I came up against different people of quite different outlooks and different education, and then gradually my conceit just began peeling off. I realized that the hymns were, nevertheless, being sung with devotion and benefit by an old saint in elastic-side boots in the opposite pew, and then you realize that you aren’t fit to clean those boots. It gets you out of your solitary conceit.
:: C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.
:: C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves
Finally, though I have had to speak at some length about sex, I want to make it as clear as I possibly can that the centre of Christian morality is not here. If anyone thinks that Christians regard unchastity as the supreme vice, he is quite wrong. The sins of the flesh are bad, but they are the least bad of all sins. All the worst pleasures are purely spiritual: the pleasure of putting other people in the wrong, of bossing and patronising and spoiling sport, and back-biting, the pleasures of power, of hatred. For there are two things inside me, competing with the human self which I must try to become. They are the Animal self, and the Diabolical self. The Diabolical self is the worse of the two. That is why a cold, self-righteous prig who goes regularly to church may be far nearer to hell than a prostitute.
:: C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.
:: Anaïs Nin
The heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing of.
:: Blaise Pascal
The list of books I've started but haven't finished pales somewhat next to the list of books I've bought but never read, which is probably about equal to the number of books I've read but don't actually remember reading. then there are the books I've bought, have read, remember reading but have forgotten what actually happens in them.
:: Author Unknown
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, enwrought with the golden and silver light,
the blue and the dim and the dark cloths, of night and light and half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet, but I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams beneath your feet; tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
:: W.B. Yeats
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