If our lives are truly "hid with Christ in God," the astounding thing is that this hiddenness is revealed in all that we do and say and write. What we are is going to be visible in our art, no matter how secular (on the surface) the subject may be.

We cannot always cry at the right time and who is to say which time is right?

Maybe that's the best part of going away for a vacation-coming home again.

She seems to have had the ability to stand firmly on the rock of her past while living completely and unregretfully in the present.

We can't take any credit for our talents. It's how we use them that counts.

The images were gone, but Calvin was there, was with her, was part of her. She had moved beyond knowing him in sensory images to that place which is beyond images. Now she was kything Calvin, not red hair, or freckles, or eager blue eyes, or the glowing smile; nor was she hearing the deep voice with the occasional treble cracking; not any of this, but - Calvin. She was with Calvin, kything with every atom of her being, returning to him all the fortitude and endurance and hope which he had given her.

Only a fool is not afraid.