As Man Alone, Jesus Could Not Have

This Life In Us; However Low It Flickers Or Fiercely Burns, Is Still A Divine Flame Which No Man Dare Presume To Put Out, Be His Motives Never So Humane And Enlightened; To Suppose Otherwise Is To Countenance A Death-wish; Either Life Is Always And In All Circumstances Sacred, Or Intrinsically Of No Account; It Is Inconceivable That It Should Be In Some Cases The One, And In Some The Other.

People Say That The Bible Is A Boring Book...but They Don't Say That About Shakespeare, Because The People Who Teach Shakespeare Are Zealous For Shakespeare.

I Suppose That Every Age Has Its Own Particular Fantasy: Ours Is Science. A Seventeenth-century Man Like Blaise Pascal, Who Thought Himself A Mathematician And Scientist Of Genius, Found It Quite Ridiculous That Anyone Should Suppose That Rational Processes Could Lead To Any Ultimate Conclusions About Life, But Easily Accepted The Authority Of The Scriptures. With Us, It Is The Other Way `round

The Hallmark Of Religion Is To Distrust Claims Made For Mortal Men. It Is In Ages Of Great Religious Faith That Great Skepticism Can Find Expression.

All Happenings, Great And Small, Are Parables Whereby God Speaks. The Art Of Life Is To Get The Message. To See All That Is Offered Us At The Windows Of The Soul, And To Reach Out And Receive What Is Offered, This Is The Art Of Living.