“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Go out on the front porch of the house, turn the Washington Post over with your big toe, and if your name’s above the fold, you know you’re not going to have a good day.

I spend so much time in fear of going broke, and I never have been even remotely close to going broke.

Legalistic remorse says, “I broke God’s rules,” while real repentance says, “I broke God’s heart.”

I am not talking about the state or average or common people. I am talking about everybody; because when you close your mind as an official you cannot upgrade and vice versa.

And then, just like that, my heart broke. My face crumpled, my composure went and I held him tightly and I stopped caring that he could feel the shudder of my sobbing body because grief swamped me.

I appreciate the good work that senators in both parties have put into trying to fix our broken immigration system. There are some good elements in this proposal, especially increasing the resources and manpower to secure our border and also improving and streamlining legal immigration. However, I have deep concerns with the proposed path to citizenship. To allow those who came here illegally to be placed on such a path is both inconsistent with rule of law and profoundly unfair to the millions of legal immigrants who waited years, if not decades, to come to America legally.

I’m not going to die broke, but I’m not rich.

Truth always originates in a minority of one, and every custom begins as a broken precedent.

They back away from challenges. Ironically, they back themselves into the biggest problem of all … being broke, or close to it.