“God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform; He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm.”

All we behold is miracle.

Still ending, and beginning still.

Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.

Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid, In every bosom where her nest is made, Hatched by the beams of truth, denies him rest, And proves a raging scorpion in his breast.

Grief is itself a medicine.

Habits are soon assumed; but when we strive to strip them off, ’tis being flayed alive.

They whom truth and wisdom lead, can gather honey from a weed.

Heaven’s harmony is universal love.

What we admire we praise; and when we praise, Advance it into notice, that its worth Acknowledged, others may admire it too.

But oars alone can ne’er prevail To reach the distant coast; The breath of Heaven must swell the sail, Or all the toil is lost.

Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.

Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.

And works his sovereign will. Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break In blessings on your head.

The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r. Blind unbelief is sure to err And scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, And He will make it plain.

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilirate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature.

And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow’d perhaps by a smile.

The plan of God for your life is that you should be held captive by His power, doing that which you in the natural world would never do, but that which you are forced to do by the power of the Holy Ghost moving through you.

If the spirit does not move me, I move the Spirit.

When I moved to New York, I started switching fragrances. Between different seasons I would change fragrance, or if I was going out for a big fancy night versus going out in the daytime. But I also found that I was changing and growing so much.

I am not moved by what I see. I am moved only by what I believe.

If you make the effort to address the moves that cause a slice, you can straighten out all your shots. It won’t happen overnight, but if you’re systematic about it, the process will work.

But the self-controlled man, moving among objects, with his senses under restraint, and free from both attraction and repulsion, attains peace.

Moving from chair to chair, from coffee machine to coffee machine is the limit of my action in most films. But I enjoy being cast in them because I love watching them.

Even if the last move did not succeed, the inner command says move again.