Well "I do" are the two most famous last words. The beginning of the end. But to lose your life for another I've heard is a good place to begin.

Hey, angel, your horns are sticking up.

Blood was shed that you three might breathe the good air of life, and if that means you have to miss out on a Zibzy game, then so be it. Part of being a man is putting others' needs before your own.

Art, if it can be ascribed value, is most valuable when its beauty (and the beauty of the truth it tells) bewilders, confounds, defies evil itself; it does so by making what has been unmade; it subverts the spirit of the age; it mends the heart by whispering mysteries the mind alone can’t fathom; it fulfills its highest calling when into all the clamor of Hell it tells the unbearable, beautiful, truth that Christ has died, Christ is risen, and Christ will come again. None of these songs and stories matter if the beauty they’re adding to isn’t the kind of beauty that redeems and reclaims.

Love is not a feeling in your chest; it is bending down to wash another's feet.

The gospel gives me hope, and hope is not a language the dark voices understand.

Well "I do" are the two most famous last words. The beginning of the end. But to lose your life for another I've heard is a good place to begin.