Giving thanks is that: making the canyon of pain into a megaphone to proclaim the ultimate goodness of God when Satan and all the world would sneer at us to recant.

In a world addicted to speed, I blur the moments into one unholy smear.

Busy is a choice. Stress is a choice. Joy is a choice. Choose well.

Like the wind, Grace finds us wherever we are and won't leave us however we were found.

Being joyful isn't what makes you grateful. Being grateful is what makes you joyful.

It's habits that can imprison you and it's habits that can free you. But when thanks to God becomes a habit - so joy in God becomes your life.

The moment when you are most repelled by a child's behavior, that is your warning light to draw the very closest to that child.

There is unwavering peace today when an uncertain tomorrow is trusted to an unchanging God.

We give thanks to God not because of how we feel, but because of Who He is.

...the secret to joy is to keep seeking God where we doubt He is.

Joy and pain, they are but two arteries of the one heart that pumps through all those who don't numb themselves to really living.

There was no echo, no reverberation. If anything the room ate sound. It swallowed her voice, her words, and her eternal, inadequate apology. But not her memories. She would never be rid of those.

We are not defined by what knocks us down - we are defined by how e get back up

TEIRESIAS: Alas, how terrible is wisdom whenit brings no profit to the man that's wise!This I knew well, but had forgotten it, else I would not have come here.

I want to thank you for taking time out of your day to come and witness my hanging.

Data is the fabric of the modern world: just like we walk down pavements, so we trace routes through data, and build knowledge and products out of it.

Sometimes it looks like I'm dancing, but it's just that I walked into a spider web.

My faith protects me. My Kevlar helps.

To write a book is for all the world like humming a song—be but in tune with yourself, madam, 'tis no matter how high or how low you take it.

Wait'll next year! is the favorite cry of baseball fans, football fans, hockey fans, and gardeners.

Our idea of a real problem is someone else's idea of an ultimate dream. Put the 'problem' in perspective