We and the world, my children, will always be at war. Retreat is impossible. Arm yourselves.

Fresh peach pie can lift a bullying reprobate into apologetic courtesy; I have watched it happen.

Hope is like yeast, you know, rising under warmth.

I prayed the Lord would sort (my prayers) out and answer as needed. Above all that he would hurry.

Is there a single person on whom I can press belief? No sir. All I can do is say, Here's how it went. Here's what I saw. I've been there and am going back. Make of it what you will.

Good advice is a wise man's friend, of course; but sometimes it just flies on past, and all you can do is wave.

Many a night I woke to the murmer of paper and knew (Dad) was up, sitting in the kitchen with frayed King James - oh, but he worked that book; he held to it like a rope ladder.