John Quotes

Nothing before, nothing behind; The steps of faith Fall on the seeming void, and find The Rock beneath.

With warning hand I mark Time's rapid flight, From Life's glad morning to its solemn night; Yet, through the dear Lord's love, I also show There's light above me by the shade I throw.

This is truth the poet sings . . .

From purest wells of English undefiled None deeper drank than he, the New World's Child, Who in the language of their farm field spoke The wit and wisdom of New England folk.

Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing, under the sky's gray arch. Smiling, I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing It is the wind of March.

From the death of the old the new proceeds, and the life of truth from the death of creeds.

With silence only as their benediction, God's angels come Where in the shadow of a great affliction, The soul sits dumb!

God gives quietness at last.

Here Greek and Roman find themselves alive along these crowded shelves; and Shakespeare treads again his stage, and Chaucer paints anew his age.

Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn

To be saved is only this-salvation from our own selfishness.

On leaf of palm, on sedge-wrought roll; on plastic clay and leather scroll, man wrote his thoughts; the ages passed, and lo! the Press was found at last!

The great eventful Present hides the Past; but through the din Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life behind steal in.

Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.

But let the good old corn adorn The hills our fathers trod; Still let us, for his golden corn, Send up our thanks to God!

Despair is infidelity and death.

Around the mighty master came The marvels which his pencil wrought, Those miracles of power whose fame Is wide as human thought.

A charmed life old goodness hath; the tares may perish, but the grain is not for death.

Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace.

God blesses still the generous thought,And still the fitting word He speeds,And Truth, at His requiring taught,He quickens into deeds.

Romance is always young.

Happy he whose inward ear Angel comfortings can hear, O'er the rabble's laughter; And, while Hatred's fagots burn, Glimpses through the smoke discern Of the good hereafter.

What miracle of weird transforming Is this wild work of frost and light, This glimpse of glory infinite?

Thine to work as well as pray, Clearing thorny wrongs away; Plucking up the weeds of sin, Letting heaven's warm sunshine in.

Small leisure have the poor for grief.

Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold: Once more with harvest song and shout Is nature's boldest triumph told.

Simple duty hath no place for fear.

The sun that brief December day Rose cheerless over hills of gray, And, darkly circled, gave at noon A sadder light than waning moon.

The world is divided up into two kinds of people - those who look at their body waste in the toilet bowl, and those who don't.

I started all over again on page 1, circling the 262 pages like a vulture looking for live flesh to scavenge.

The professional guts a book through - in full knowledge that what he is doing is not very good. Not to work is to exhibit a failure of nerve.

I see with greater and greater clearness that consistent Christianity is the easiest Christianity to defend

In many respects, my work is very enjoyable, for I seem to get on pretty well with the fellows and enjoy the work of instruction as well as my own studies

And, consequently, the art of propaganda or public information becomes one of the most powerful forms of directive statesmanship.

In fact, the individual outlook becomes less and less valuable and more and more harmful unless it is transmitted into the corporate outlook.

It is often more important to act than to understand... there are times... when two conflicting opinions, though one happens to be right, are more perilous than one opinion which is wrong.

The cultivation of sensibility on purely personal lines may, in fact, be the very worst training for a world where only the corporate and the cooperative will matter.

In my case, once you sell a lot of books and you are labeled a bestselling author, the serious critics are never gonna say anything nice about you.

I looked at her and tried to speak, but all I could think about was how shocked she'd be if I said what I was thinking.

I don't feel stupid, just inadequate. After three years of studying the law, I'm very much aware of how little I know.

In one long glorious acknowledgment of failure, he laid himself bare before God.

You burn a man's pickup, and he's ready for war.

I learned that lesson a long time ago. When you write popular fiction, you're going to get bashed by critics.

We learned after the first semester in law school that it's best never to discuss exams. If notes are compared afterwards, you become painfully aware of things you missed.

Ten years from now I plan to be sitting here, looking out over my land. I hope I'll be writing books, but if not, I'll be on my pond fishing with my kids. I feel like the luckiest guy I know.

I always do book signings with the same blue pen. That way, if I add a personalised message to a book I've already signed, it'll be in the same colour as my signature.

After I'd been a lawyer for about five or six years, I started playing around with fiction.

I struggle with racism every day

I don't think about taking a risk. I think about how far can I go. How can I make myself. What are the risks I must create.

You can read ten books and finally come across one detail, and it's like, "now everything else makes sense. Now I know where I am."