Why is it that when political ammunition runs low, inevitably the rusty artillery of abuse is always wheeled into action?
You can't expect that, after a poor fellow has written a book, he should also understand it.
The man who offers an insult writes it in sand, but for the man who receives it, it's chiseled in bronze.
No, Don Camillo; you didn't exactly steal it. Peppone had two cigars in his pocket. Peppone is a Communist. He believes in sharing things. By skillfully relieving him of one cigar, you only took your fair share.
When you share your last crust of bread with a beggar, you mustn't behave as if you were throwing a bone to a dog. You must give humbly, and thank him for allowing you to have a part in his hunger.
It is right to hate sin, but not to hate the sinner.
There can be. . . no power. . . to disclose. . . the secrets that may be buried with a human heart. The heart, making itself guilty of such secrets, must perforce hold them until the day when all hidden things be revealed.
Nothing compares with the satisfaction of pleasing the heart of our heavenly Father.
When someone challenges you, your supporters turn out.
In the past few years I have begun the process of becoming a new man.