But it is in storms that God does his finest work, for it is in storms that God has our keenest attention
The hearts letter is read in the eyes.
Prayer should be the key of the day and the lock of the night.
He that hath not the craft, let him shut up shop.
A discontented man knowes not where to sit easie.
He that commits a fault, thinkes every one speakes of it. [He that commits a fault thinks everyone speaks of it. ]
Thou who hast given so much to me, give me one more thing. . . a grateful heart!
As it stands now, those of us who are lucky enough to be citizens by birth don't have to do much. Very little is asked of us.
I love the game, it's the greatest game on earth, that's why I can't understand all of this talk about trying to make the game better. People talk about the high strike zone and changing this and that. Why? To speed up the game? That's the beauty of baseball. There is no time element.
I started thinking about the endless bullshit about quotas, and how certain types of character are fine "as long as it's important to the story," and so on, started thinking about the absence of the abject.
The journey is long, the road is dark and frightening, but together we can reach our destination: the Tasmania of which we all dream, where all are welcome and all prosper, made no longer of lies but truth, built not of rich men's hate but our love for our island and for each other.