That Is The Mystery Of Grace: It

A Man's Passion For The Mountain Is, Above All, His Childhood Which Refuses To Die.

We Are, All Of Us, Molded And Remolded By Those Who Have Loved Us, And Though That Love May Pass, We Remain None The Less Their Work--a Work That Very Likely They Do Not Recognize, And Which Is Never Exactly What They Intended.

The Temples Of Those Who Deny The Real Presence Are Like Corpses. The Lord Was Taken Away And We Do Not Know Where They Have Laid Him.

The Grandeur Of Man Lies In Song, Not In Thought.

I Love Germany So Much I'm Glad There Are Two Of Them.