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

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

I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, the air gold and so clean it quivers.

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.

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

Why is it our failures only show us more clearly the people we are failing?

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