Sex On The Brain Is The Wrong

There Is No Such Things As Darkness, Only A Failure To See.

Supposing You Eliminated Suffering, What A Dreadful Place The World Would Be! I Would Almost Rather Eliminate Happiness. The World Would Be The Most Ghastly Place Because Everything That Corrects The Tendency Of This Unspeakable Little Creature, Man, To Feel Over-important And Over-pleased With Himself Would Disappear. He's Bad Enough Now, But He Would Be Absolutely Intolerable If He Never Suffered.

In The End, Coming To Faith Remains For All A Sense Of Homecoming, Of Picking Up The Threads Of A Lost Life, Of Responding To A Bell That Had Long Been Ringing, Of Taking A Place At A Table That Had Long Been Vacant.

Old Politicians, Like Old Actors, Revive In The Limelight. The Vacancy Which Afflicts Them In Private Momentarily Lifts When, Oncemore, They Feel The Eyes Of An Audience Upon Them. Their Old Passion For Holding The Centre Of The Stage Guides Their Uncertain Footsteps To Where The Footlights Shine, And Summons Up A Wintry Smile When The Curtain Rises.

As Man Alone, Jesus Could Not Have Saved Us; As God Alone, He Would Not; Made Flesh, He Could And Did.