“It is said that in some countries trees will grow, but will bear no fruit because there is no winter there.”

To run and work the law commands, but gives us neither feet nor hands. But better news the gospel brings, it bids us fly and gives us wings.

In times of affliction we commonly meet with the sweetest experiences of the love of God.

The man who does not know the nature of the Law, cannot know the nature of sin.

Be of good cheer, Jesus Christ maketh thee whole.

An idle man’s brain is the devil’s workshop.

There can be but one will the master in our salvation, but that shall never be the will of man, but of God; therefore man must be saved by grace.

A saint abroad, and a devil at home.

Christ is the desire of nations, the joy of angels, the delight of the Father. What solace then must that soul be filled with, that has the possession of Him to all eternity!

What God says is best, is best, though all the men in the world are against it.

If people really see that Christ has removed the fear of punishment from them by taking it into Himself, they won’t do whatever they want, they’ll do whatever He wants.

It could be a sign of pride in your life if a word of reproof or admonition is not able to be received with the same grace, whether it be given by the poorest of saints or the most educated person.

He who runs from God in the morning will scarcely find Him the rest of the day.

The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, and they that lack the beginning have neither middle nor end.

To pray rightly, you must make God your hope, stay, and all. Right prayer sees nothing substantial or worth being concerned about except God.

Hope is never ill when faith is well.

See how ye Pharisee in the Temple stands, And justifies himself with lifted hands. Whilst ye poor publican with downcast eyes, Conscious of guilt to God for mercy cries.

We all get the same amount of ice. The rich get it in the summer. The poor get it in the winter.

We are been taught to be ashamed of not being ‘outgoing’. But a writer’s job is ingoing.

The barking dog that robs you of sleep, the heat of summer, the cold of winter. Forgive the ingrown toenail, the flea that bites; forgive the cranky child, wrinkles, a forgotten birthday.

Two monks sit facing, playing chess on the mountain, The bamboo shadow on the board is dark and clear. Not a person sees the bamboo’s shadow, One sometimes hears the pieces being moved.

In the uncertain ebb and flow of time and emotions, much of one’s life history is etched in the senses. And things of no particular importance, or irreplaceable things, can suddenly resurface in a café one winter night.

A writer is a person who cares what words mean, what they say, how they say it.

O Winter, ruler of the inverted year!

Writers know words are their way towards truth and freedom, and so they use them with care, with thought, with fear, with delight.