“Today we have more knowledge than at any other time in history. In seconds our laptops or PCs can call up information about a topic that would have taken years to collect. Young people graduate with more knowledge than ever before—but in spite of their knowledge, they are confused, bewildered, frustrated, and without moral moorings.”
“Dear Habicht, / Such a solemn air of silence has descended between us that I almost feel as if I am committing a sacrilege when I break it now with some inconsequential babble... / What are you up to, you frozen whale, you smoked, dried, canned piece of soul...?”
“The Gita does not decide for us. But if, whenever faced with a moral problem, you give up attachment to the ego and then decide what you should do, you will come to no harm. This is the substance of the argument which Shri Krishna has expanded into 18 chapters.”
“Most people go through life by the line of least resistance in every circumstance where they can make a choice. They do not recognize that following the lines of least resistance makes all rivers, and some men, crooked!”
“La manera más fácil de entender el propósito de un invento es preguntarle al inventor. Lo mismo ocurre cuando quieres saber la razón de tu vida: pregúntale a Dios.”
“If you’ll simply step out and do what He’s called you to do—whether it’s to proclaim His Word, or to assist others through the ministry of helps—you’ll find yourself walking into the blessings of God and a greater fulfillment in your life than you ever dreamed possible.”
“All the books were beginning to turn against me. Indeed, I must have been blind as a bat not to have seen it long before, the ludicrous contradiction between my theory of life and my actual experiences as a reader. George MacDonald had done more to me than any other writer; of course it was a pity that he had that bee in his bonnet about Christianity. He was good in spite of it. Chesterton has more sense than all the other moderns put together; bating, of course, his Christianity. Johnson was one of the few authors whom I felt I could trust utterly; curiously enough, he had the same kink. Spenser and Milton by a strange coincidence had it too. Even among ancient authors the same paradox was to be found. The most religious (Plato, Aeschylus, Virgil) were clearly those on whom I could really feed. On the other hand, those writers who did not suffer from religion and with whom in theory my sympathy ought to have been complete -- Shaw and Wells and Mill and Gibbon and Voltaire -- all seemed a little thin; what as boys we called "tinny". It wasn't that I didn't like them. They were all (especially Gibbon) entertaining; but hardly more. There seemed to be no depth in them. They were too simple. The roughness and density of life did not appear in their books.”
“Happiness is often elusive and fleeting. There are three elements that, when combined, always result in happiness. Like a three-legged stool, they work in tandem. Any two of the three”
“I have always believed that hope is that stubborn thing inside us that insists, despite all the evidence to the contrary, that something better awaits us so long as we have the courage to keep reaching, to keep working, to keep fighting."
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