Memory Is The Sense Of Loss, And

There Are Worries That Seem To Me Sustained By The Love Of Worry. For Example, That People Are Reading From Screens, Or Listening To Recorded Books. Why Scold The Impulse To Enjoy Language And Narrative In Whatever Form It Takes?

Memory Is The Sense Of Loss, And Loss Pulls Us After It.

It Seems To Me People Tend To Forget That We Are To Love Our Enemies, Not To Satisfy Some Standard Of Righteousness But Because God Their Father Loves Them.

The Twinkling Of An Eye. That Is The Most Wonderful Expression. I've Thought From Time To Time It Was The Best Thing In Life, That Little Incandescence You See In People When The Charm Of A Thing Strikes Them, Or The Humor Of It. 'the Light Of The Eyes Rejoiceth The Heart.' That's A Fact.

Sometimes I Have Loved The Peacefulness Of An Ordinary Sunday. It Is Like Standing In A Newly Planted Garden After A Warm Rain. You Can Feel The Silent And Invisible Life.