A Miracle Is When The

If You Want To Be Holy, Be Kind.

And Because God's Love Is Uncoercive And Treasures Our Freedom - If Above All He Wants Us To Love Him, Then We Must Be Left Free Not To Love Him - We Are Free To Resist It, Deny It, Crucify It Finally, Which We Do Again And Again. This Is Our Terrible Freedom, Which Love Refuses To Overpower So That, In This, The Greatest Of All Powers, God's Power, Is Itself Powerless.

Of The Seven Deadly Sins, Anger Is Possibly The Most Fun. To Lick Your Wounds, To Smack Your Lips Over Grievances Long Past, To Roll Over Your Tongue The Prospect Of Bitter Confrontations Still To Come, To Savor To The Last Toothsome Morsel Both The Pain You Are Given And The Pain You Are Giving Back--in Many Ways It Is A Feast Fit For A King. The Chief Drawback Is That What You Are Wolfing Down Is Yourself. The Skeleton At The Feast Is You.

Justice Is The Grammar Of Things. Mercy Is The Poetry Of Things.

It Was The Upward-reaching And Fathomlessly Hungering, Heart-breaking Love For The Beauty Of The World At Its Most Beautiful, And, Beyond That, For That Beauty East Of The Sun And West Of The Moon Which Is Past The Reach Of All But Our Most Desperate Desiring And Is Finally The Beauty Of Beauty Itself, Of Being Itself And What Lies At The Heart Of Being.