The admiration of power in others is as common to man as the love of it in himself; the one makes him a tyrant, the other a slave.
I've found, in my own writing, that a little hatred, keenly directed, is a useful thing.
People who work hard often work too hard. . . . May we learn to honor the hammock, the siesta, the nap and the pause in all its forms.
Activism is my rent for living on the planet.
Nobody is as powerful as we make them out to be.
Any God I ever found in church, I brought in myself.
It has become a common feeling, I believe, as we have watched our heroes falling over the years, that our own small stone of activism, which might not seem to measure up to the rugged boulders of heroism we have so admired, is a paltry offering toward the building of an edifice of hope. Many who believe this choose to withhold their offerings out of shame. This is the tragedy of the world. For we can do nothing substantial toward changing our course on the planet, a destructive one, without rousing ourselves, individual by individual, and bringing our small, imperfect stones to the pile.
What the gears cannot do the computer might. The computer is the Proteus of machines. Its essence is its universality, its power to simulate
Now let us thank th' eternal power, convinced That Heaven but tries our virtue by affliction: That oft the cloud that wraps the present hour Serves but to brighten all our future days.
Today five out of six non-Christians in our world have no hope unless missionaries come to them and plant the church among them.
No torture has yet been devised that could get a liberal to mention the poor, beleaguered Kurds dancing in the streets because Saddam is gone.