“As I close my eyes in prayer, let me see the faces of those who need to know You, beloved Savior.”

“Our body is a machine for living. It is organized for that, it is its nature. Let life go on in it unhindered and let it defend itself.”

“Locura es hacer la misma cosa una y otra vez esperando obtener diferentes resultados”

“Come, what did I say, repeat it? he would ask. But I could never repeat anything, so ludicrous it seemed that he should talk to me, not of himself or me, but of something else, as though it mattered what happened outside us. Only much later I began to have some slight understanding of his cares and to be interested in them.”

“Everyday should be a working day on those difficult tasks. A little bit per day is the only way to make it through. Never feel it can't be done; it can be done with persistent actions, repeated input and consistent attendance!”

“Education is not the learning of facts, but the training of the mind to think.” 

“Keep it calm and watch the company you keep. It's either a red card or a green card you are holding. One guides you to go on, and the other makes you give up on scoring your goals”

“APRIL 18 Some Things Never Happen You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy, at Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore. PSALM 16:11 Many times we get upset about things that never happen. Satan likes to get us anxious about things that are not even real problems. Jesus said, “The thief comes only in order to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full, till it overflows)” (John 10:10). The Bible says that the kingdom of God is internal righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost (see Romans 14:17). When we make Jesus Lord of our heart, we have joy in our lives. Satan has no right to steal from you today, so enjoy the good life that Jesus paid for you to have.”

“Of all machines, the human heart is the most complicated and inexplicable.”

“It can't be that life is so senseless and horrible. But if it really has been so horrible and senseless, why must I die and die in agony? There is something wrong!”

“Is there any real purpose in being alive if all we are going to do is get up every day and live only for ourselves? Live your life to help others. Give & live selflessly.” 

“At first are moving tombs on the surface of the surface of the earth; then we become static tombs in the brims of the cemetary soil; waiting to become eternal people in fellowship for God. I know there is another fellowship in heaven!”

“Life produces a different taste each time you take it.”

“I'm the President, but he's The Boss.”

“In speaking of this desire for our own far off country, which we find in ourselves even now, I feel a certain shyness. I am almost committing an indecency. I am trying to rip open the inconsolable secret in each one of you—the secret which hurts so much that you take your revenge on it by calling it names like Nostalgia and Romanticism and Adolescence; the secret also which pierces with such sweetness that when, in very intimate conversation, the mention of it becomes imminent, we grow awkward and affect to laugh at ourselves; the secret we cannot hide and cannot tell, though we desire to do both. We cannot tell it because it is a desire for something that has never actually appeared in our experience. We cannot hide it because our experience is constantly suggesting it, and we betray ourselves like lovers at the mention of a name. Our commonest expedient is to call it beauty and behave as if that had settled the matter. Wordsworth’s expedient was to identify it with certain moments in his own past. But all this is a cheat. If Wordsworth had gone back to those moments in the past, he would not have found the thing itself, but only the reminder of it; what he remembered would turn out to be itself a remembering. The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These things—the beauty, the memory of our own past—are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshipers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited.”