There Is No Democracy Of Facts.

Patience Is...clearly Not Fatalistic, Shoulder-shrugging Resignation. It Is The Acceptance Of A Divine Rhythm To Life; It Is Obedience Prolonged. Patience Stoutly Resists Pulling Up The Daisies To See How The Roots Are Doing.

The Winds Of Tribulation, Which Blow Out Some Men's Candles Of Commitment, Only Fan The Fires Of Faith Of Others.

The Truth Is That Not Yet Usually Means Never. Trying To Run Away From The Responsibility To Decide About Christ Is Childish. Pilate Sought To Refuse Responsibility For Deciding About Christ, But Pilate's Hands Were Never Dirtier Than Just After He Had Washed Them.

The Acceptance Of The Reality That We Are In The Lord's Loving Hands Is Only A Recognition That We Have Never Really Been Anywhere Else.

Man Can Learn Self-discipline Without Becoming Ascetic; He Can Be Wise Without Waiting To Be Old; He Can Be Influential Without Waiting For Status. Man Can Sharpen His Ability To Distinguish Between Matters Of Principle And Matters Of Preference, But Only If We Have A Wise Interplay Between Time And Truth, Between Minutes And Morality.