Man must shape his tools lest they shape him.

Our deputy looked down the street, saw the man with the 13-year-old child and stopped them.

A man came up and tried to grab my arm, so I kept backing up and he was messing with the other safeties and he threw a rock and the kid has a mark on his chest.

This man lived in the home, and obviously there were a lot of questions asked about the weapon and how this boy could have gotten that weapon,

If I have any justification for having lived it's simply, I'm nothing but faults, failures and so on, but I have tried to make a good pair of shoes. There's some value in that.

Where choice begins, Paradise ends, innocence ends, for what is Paradise but the absence of any need to choose this action?