If we are in tune with the Spirit, if we are seeking the Lord and His guidance, if our direction is to return to our Father in Heaven, the sweet mome….
My heart was a desert You planted a seed And this is the flower This hour of sweet fulfillment.
When on a summer's morn I wake, And open my two eyes, Out to the clear, born-singing rills My bird-like spirit flies. To hear the Blackbird, ….
I am very astonished that the scientific picture of the real world around me is deficient. It gives a lot of factual information, puts all our experi….
Steven Spielberg name is synonymous with Hollywood. You sometimes meet people who revel in their own mythology, and he doesn't feel like that, at all….
I was a fat child and loved cake, perhaps because it was the only sweet thing in my life..
When I came to the United States in 1975 I was eleven, and within a few months my voice broke. I recited commercials like a parrot and I got yelled a….
By nature, I am a materialist... It is exactly these impingements upon our sense of touch and so forth that I'm interested in..
As a whole forest becomes fragrant by the existence of a single tree with sweet-smelling blossoms in it, so a family becomes famous by the birth of a….
There's part of me that is a strict materialist..
Writing well isn't just a question of winsome expression, but of having found something big and true to say and having found the right words to say i….
When all the world appears to be in a tumult, and nature itself is feeling the assault of climate change, the seasons retain their essential rhythm. ….
Instead of speaking saintly words we must act them..
I intend to be me. Whatever that is..
We've got to get in to get out..
What we love in others we not only awaken in others, but we develop those very things more or less in ourselves..
How sweet to move at summer's eve By Clyde's meandering stream, When Sol in joy is seen to leave The earth with crimson beam; When islands that w….
O land and soil, red soil and sweet-gum tree, So scant of grass, so profligate of pines.
Breathe slumbrous music round me, sweet and slow,To honied phrases set!Into the land of dreams I long to go.Bid me forget!.
Is your face a beautiful blossom or a sweet torture? I have no complaints but my heart is tempted to let you hear of its sorrows..
How could such sweet and wholesome hours be reckoned, but in herbs and flowers?.