I want to have the eyes of an adult to see the world as it is, but I more desperately want to have the heart of a child to make certain that I never forget what it could be.

Hope is not some thin thing that is subject to the winds of fate, but it is crafted hard by the hands of God.

The darkness that follows a sunset is never so dark that it can change the inevitability of a sunrise.

Once faith dies, the death of hope follows hard on its heels.

I must not imagine what is ‘not’ as a means of escaping what ‘is’. Rather, I must understand what ‘is’ and imagine how I can make it what it is ‘not’.

Faith revels in the liberating fact that only a terribly miniscule part of life lies within the constricted confines of my reach, and that I am graciously invited out to live in a place beyond my grasp.